BEHIND HIS SPOTLIGHT

THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH

Lia's POV

The trouble with the internet is that it never sleeps.

By seven the next morning, the photograph had accumulated over three million views.

Three million strangers looking at my husband and another woman.

Three million strangers deciding what their story should be.

I stared at the numbers on my screen while waiting for the elevator.

Beside me, Ethan adjusted the cuff of his suit.

"You look like you're about to declare war on somebody."

I locked my phone.

"Maybe I am."

His lips twitched.

"There she is."

"There who is?"

"The version of you that actually has a personality."

I shot him a look.

He laughed.

And for one brief moment, things felt normal again.

The elevator doors opened.

The moment vanished.

Work had a way of doing that.

The promotional campaign was moving faster than expected.

Too fast.

By the time we reached the studio, reporters were already waiting outside.

Questions flew the second Ethan appeared.

"Are you and Rose Bennett dating?"

"Ethan, how do you feel about being reunited with your first love?"

"Do you believe in second chances?"

I felt my shoulders stiffen.

Second chances.

Interesting choice of words.

Ethan ignored the questions and continued walking.

Cameras followed him anyway.

The media didn't need answers.

They only needed possibilities.

Inside, the atmosphere was chaotic.

The production team was celebrating.

Ratings projections had doubled overnight.

Sponsors were calling.

Investors were interested.

Apparently, public obsession was profitable.

Who would've guessed?

"Everyone's thrilled," Maya whispered as she handed me a stack of documents.

"Clearly."

She winced.

"You saw the comments?"

"I made the mistake of opening social media."

"Ah."

That explained everything.

Around noon, I was delivering revised schedules to the conference room when I heard laughter.

Familiar laughter.

I slowed.

The conference room door was partially open.

Inside, Ethan sat across from Rose.

Neither had noticed me.

They were talking while waiting for a meeting to begin.

Simple.

Harmless.

Normal.

I should have walked away.

Instead, I froze.

"...remember the chemistry teacher?" Rose was saying.

Ethan groaned.

"Mr. Watson?"

"Yes."

"The man hated me."

Rose laughed.

"No, he didn't."

"He literally threw my paper in the trash."

"You deserved it."

"I got one question wrong."

"You wrote your own formula."

"It should have worked."

Rose laughed harder.

So did Ethan.

The sound hit me unexpectedly.

Not because they were laughing.

Because they shared memories I wasn't part of.

I hated myself for caring.

It was ridiculous.

Everyone had a past.

Including me.

But standing there, I felt strangely excluded from my own husband's history.

Like I was watching two people revisit a chapter I'd never read.

I quietly stepped away before they saw me.

Professional.

Always professional.

The meeting ended an hour later.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the end of my problems.

The real problem arrived in the form of Olivia.

The senior producer.

The woman who seemed to notice far more than she should.

She stopped by my desk that afternoon carrying a coffee.

"For you."

I blinked.

"What did I do to deserve this?"

She smiled.

"Nothing."

Suspicious.

Very suspicious.

Still, I accepted it.

"Thank you."

Olivia leaned casually against the desk.

"You've worked with Ethan for a long time."

"Several years."

"You know him well."

I hesitated.

Dangerous question.

"Comes with the job."

Her eyes sparkled.

Like she knew I was lying.

"Interesting."

There was that word again.

Interesting.

I was beginning to hate it.

Before I could respond, Olivia changed the subject.

"Can I give you some advice?"

"Sure."

She glanced around to ensure nobody was listening.

Then she lowered her voice.

"People only notice what's directly in front of them."

I frowned.

"What does that mean?"

"It means..."

She paused.

"...the most dangerous place to hide is in plain sight."

My stomach tightened.

For a second, I wondered if she somehow knew.

Knew about me.

About Ethan.

About our marriage.

But then she smiled.

The moment disappeared.

And she walked away.

Leaving me completely unsettled.

That evening brought another disaster.

This one arrived through Ethan's publicist.

The meeting lasted less than ten minutes.

Unfortunately, ten minutes was more than enough.

"We want to capitalize on the attention."

The publicist sounded excited.

Too excited.

Ethan looked wary.

"Meaning?"

"The audience loves the reunion narrative."

I already hated where this was going.

The publicist continued.

"We're arranging joint interviews."

Silence.

Then:

"No."

Ethan's answer came immediately.

I nearly sighed with relief.

Nearly.

The publicist wasn't discouraged.

"Listen, we're not asking you to date her."

"Good."

"We're talking about promotion."

Ethan folded his arms.

"I said no."

The room grew quiet.

I should have been happy.

Instead, something bothered me.

Because this wasn't over.

I could feel it.

The publicist finally gathered his papers.

"We'll revisit the discussion later."

Translation:

This fight wasn't finished.

Not even close.

That night, I couldn't sleep.

The city lights spilled through the bedroom window.

Beside me, Ethan was already asleep.

One arm stretched across the mattress.

His breathing slow and steady.

I watched him for a long moment.

The man I'd loved since I was seventeen.

The man I'd married at twenty-one.

The man who still reached for me in his sleep.

Sometimes I wondered if relationships ended suddenly.

Or if they broke gradually.

Tiny fracture after tiny fracture.

So slowly that neither person noticed until the damage was already done.

My phone vibrated on the nightstand.

A notification.

Curious, I picked it up.

And immediately regretted it.

Another article.

Another headline.

Another photograph.

This time, it wasn't from the promotional shoot.

It was from years ago.

A high school event.

Ethan and Rose standing together beneath string lights.

Young.

Smiling.

Carefree.

The headline read:

FIRST LOVE NEVER REALLY DIES.

I stared at the words.

Then at the sleeping man beside me.

A strange feeling settled in my chest.

Not fear.

Not jealousy.

Something worse.

For the first time since Rose returned...

I found myself wondering whether everyone else remembered Ethan's first love more clearly than I did.

And that thought followed me all the way into the dark.