THE FIRST CRACK
970 Words
Lia's POV
The first promotional shoot happened three days later.
Three days.
That was all it took for the internet to become obsessed.
By the time Ethan and Rose officially appeared together, fan pages had already created edits, hashtags, and relationship theories.
Some people were analyzing old interviews from high school.
Others were calling it fate.
I learned very quickly that the public loved a reunion story.
Especially one involving first love.
I stood near the monitor while the crew prepared the set.
The studio had been transformed into a luxurious penthouse apartment for the photoshoot.
Artificial sunlight poured through massive windows.
Fresh flowers decorated every surface.
Everything looked romantic.
Intentionally romantic.
I hated it.
Not because of the set.
Because I knew exactly what the marketing team was doing.
The director clapped his hands.
"Positions, everyone!"
The room immediately came alive.
Makeup artists rushed around.
Assistants adjusted clothing.
Photographers tested lighting.
And then Ethan arrived.
A ripple moved through the room.
Even after all these years, his presence still affected people.
Including me.
He wore a black suit today.
Simple.
Elegant.
Dangerously attractive.
For one stupid second, my heart forgot it was supposed to be annoyed with him.
Then Rose walked in.
And suddenly they looked like the cover of a luxury magazine.
Tall.
Beautiful.
Perfect.
The kind of couple people imagined when they thought of movie stars.
I hated that thought too.
Rose smiled when she saw me.
"Morning, Lia."
"Morning."
"Did you sleep well?"
I almost laughed.
What an odd question.
"Enough."
"You look tired."
Before I could answer, Ethan appeared beside me.
"You tell everyone they look tired?"
Rose raised an eyebrow.
"Only when they do."
The exchange was harmless.
Friendly, even.
Yet something about it bothered me.
Maybe because Ethan sounded relaxed around her.
Or maybe because I remembered a time when he used to sound that relaxed around me.
The photographer interrupted.
"Ethan, Rose, we're ready."
They moved toward the set.
Together.
The word lingered unpleasantly in my mind.
I forced myself to focus on work.
Schedules.
Calls.
Emails.
Anything except the two people standing beneath the lights.
The shoot began.
At first, everything was professional.
Simple poses.
Smiles.
Promotional material.
Then the photographer got creative.
"Closer."
They stepped closer.
"Good."
Click.
Click.
Click.
"Rose, hold his arm."
Click.
"Perfect."
Click.
"Ethan, look at her."
Click.
The room erupted with approval.
I looked away.
A childish reaction.
I knew that.
But watching your husband stare into another woman's eyes—even professionally—wasn't exactly easy.
A voice suddenly spoke beside me.
"You're very calm."
I turned.
A woman stood there holding a tablet.
Tall.
Elegant.
One of the senior producers.
Her name was Olivia, if I remembered correctly.
"I am?"
She smiled.
"Most assistants get excited around celebrities."
"I'm used to them."
Something unreadable flickered across her expression.
Almost amusement.
"Interesting answer."
Before I could ask what she meant, someone called her name.
She walked away.
Leaving me strangely unsettled.
The real disaster happened during lunch.
I was reviewing Ethan's afternoon schedule when a commotion erupted near the entrance.
Several staff members hurried past.
Whispers spread rapidly.
Confused, I looked up.
"What happened?"
Maya rushed over.
Her eyes were huge.
"You won't believe this."
"Believe what?"
She thrust her phone toward me.
I looked.
And immediately understood.
Photos.
Hundreds of them.
The promotional shoot hadn't even ended yet, and images were already spreading online.
One particular photograph had gone viral.
Ethan and Rose standing face to face.
Smiling.
Looking entirely too good together.
The comments were exploding.
LOOK AT THEIR CHEMISTRY.
THEY'RE DEFINITELY IN LOVE.
NO ONE CAN FAKE THAT LOOK.
ETHAN NEVER LOOKS AT ANYONE ELSE LIKE THIS.
My stomach twisted.
The worst part wasn't the comments.
It was knowing they were wrong.
Completely wrong.
The man in those photos came home with me every night.
He left his shoes in our hallway.
He complained when I stole the blankets.
He drank too much coffee.
He was my husband.
And yet...
The entire world was celebrating another woman beside him.
A strange sadness settled over me.
Not jealousy.
Not exactly.
Something lonelier.
Like watching yourself slowly disappear from your own story.
That evening, Ethan was unusually quiet.
We ate dinner in silence.
The television played softly in the background.
Neither of us paid attention.
Finally, Ethan set down his fork.
"Talk to me."
I looked up.
"What?"
"You've been distant all day."
I almost laughed.
The irony was painful.
"Distant?"
"Yes."
I studied him for a moment.
The man who knew me better than anyone.
The man who somehow didn't notice the obvious.
"What do you want me to say?"
"The truth."
Dangerous answer.
Very dangerous.
Because the truth wasn't simple.
The truth was that I was tired.
The truth was that being invisible hurt more than it used to.
The truth was that watching another woman fit so effortlessly into Ethan's public life made me question my place in it.
Instead, I asked a different question.
"Are you happy?"
He frowned.
"Where did that come from?"
"Just answer."
Ethan leaned back.
Thinking.
Actually thinking.
And somehow that hurt too.
Because it shouldn't have required thought.
Finally, he nodded.
"Most days."
Most days.
Not every day.
I wasn't sure why that answer stayed with me.
Maybe because I felt the same way.
Most days.
Not every day.
The silence stretched.
Then Ethan reached across the table.
His fingers brushed mine.
A familiar gesture.
One that used to make everything feel okay.
Tonight, it wasn't enough.
Not because I loved him less.
Because I was starting to realize love wasn't the problem.
Something else was breaking between us.
Something neither of us knew how to fix.
And somewhere across the city, Rose Bennett had unknowingly placed her foot directly on the first crack.
- Writer
