Lahat ng Kabanata ng Play Me Like You Mean It: Kabanata 41 - Kabanata 50

The next morning, Drew didn’t even let me sit before announcing the theme of the day.“Today,” he said, his eyes sweeping over me with mock severity, “we’re tackling emotions. Or, in your case, how not to wear your broken little heart all over your face.”I blinked at him. “Excuse me?”He flicked his wrist, dramatic as ever. “Darling, you walked in here with heartbreak stamped across your face like a tabloid cover. In this industry? That’s a rookie mistake. Everyone’s watching– the paparazzi, the agents, the critics. And they don’t nudge, they strike. The moment they spot the smallest crack?” He mimed a slow cut across his throat, his eyes glittering.“They’ll slick you into pieces and auction off every fragment.”I couldn't help laughing, shaking my head. “You’re so extra.”“Extra keeps you alive out there,” Drew shot back. He paced the room like it was a runway. “You can cry in the bathroom. You can scream in your car. But the moment you step into the studio, the casting room, the r

I told Drew I’d be traveling to France with Zayne to meet Vittorio, and he practically squealed louder than I’d ever heard him.“Finally!” He clapped his hands, eyes bright. “My prodigy is stepping onto the world stage.” Then, with a snap of his fingers, his tone sharpened. “One last thing before you go: be bold. Skin or no skin, confidence is the only fabric you never take off. Clothes fall, heels snap, makeup smudges but if you carry boldness, nothing can move you.”I gave a small nod, trying to keep the nerves hidden. “Got it.”But I hadn’t told Jesse the truth. To him, I was still the sister who disappeared for offline styling classes. When I mentioned a “workshop program” in France, I braced myself for questions. But Jesse, with his easy trust, only nodded.“Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I’ll stay at Caleb’s until you’re back. Just text me when you land, okay?”The thought of the look on his face when he found out the truth gave me a thrill I couldn’t contain.The night before

Even after showering and having dinner, I was still in high spirits. My body was tired from the day, but my mind wouldn’t stop replaying everything: the lights, the cameras, Vittorio’s approving nod. And Zayne was the one I poured it all on. I kept talking, telling him how nervous I’d felt at first and how getting comfortable in front of the cameras wasn’t easy at all.Zayne didn’t interrupt. He sat across from me, quiet, watching as I rambled on, eating his dinner and smiling at how excited I still was.I was halfway through describing the moment I almost panicked on set when his voice broke through my rambling.“You’re beautiful, Mira.”His words caught me off guard. My chatter fell away, leaving me flushed and fumbling out a small, “Thank you.”But Zayne wasn’t finished. He eased back in his chair, placing his fork aside and looked straight at me.“Mira….”“Yeah,” I answered, meeting his eyes.“I’m not the type to play around or chase things I don’t want. The truth is, I like you.

Since the shoot was done, there was nothing left to keep me in France, so the next morning Zayne and I flew home.The flight home was quiet. I spent most of it staring out the window, thinking about how much my life had changed in just a few months. I wasn’t famous yet, but I could feel it coming, like something waiting just ahead, close enough to reach if I kept going.When we landed, Zayne’s driver was already waiting beside the jet. He greeted us with a quick nod and took over from there: bags, paperwork, all of it handled smoothly.By the time we reached my building, the driver had already pulled the suitcase from the trunk. Zayne stepped out with me.“I’ll have someone check on the setup for next week,” he said.“Alright.”He smiled. “Get some rest, Mira.”“I will.”The car stayed parked until I got to the door.Jesse opened it before I even reached for the handle.“You’re back!” he said, practically dragging my suitcase inside.“I told you I would be.”He grinned. “France looked

The more I scrolled, the worse it got. Every comment seemed designed to cut. It wasn’t just random hate. It was people questioning if I deserved the life I was finally living.I’ve had my share of harsh words before; life trained me to take them. But this was different. They weren’t just mocking my looks or my choices. They were questioning my worth. And maybe the part that stung most was that Zayne had helped me.Now it felt like kindness had turned into proof for strangers that I didn’t earn any of it.My chest felt tight.I stared at the screen for a while before calling Drew. He picked up almost instantly. “I was wondering when you’d call. You’ve seen the mess online, huh?”“Yeah,” I said quietly. “It’s bad. They’re saying the worst things.”He made a small sound. “You’d think people had better things to do. If it’s that easy, let’s see them get two rich men to look their way.”“Drew,” I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You’re supposed to make me feel better, not worse.”