UNSCRIPTED EMOTIONS
1182 Words
“I will be the interviewer? I haven’t been told anything about that.”
Jane's voice came out soft and unsure, a mix of confusion and discomfort.
Killian turned away from her, barely acknowledging the concern in her voice.
“Well, now you’ve heard,” he said bluntly, signaling to Mike. “Mike, please hand her the questions she’ll be asking during the interview.”
Jane received the printed scripts with a quiet sigh. Her fingers skimmed over the papers as she scanned through the lines. The questions looked formal, straightforward—but something about them felt…off.
“Get ready for the interview tomorrow,” Killian added, brushing past her as though it were just another casual work task. “We’re going to Ice Spice.”
—
The following day at the Ice Spice platform…
The venue was breathtaking. A well-decorated outdoor podium stood proudly under the open sky. The tiles beneath their feet were polished to a shine, and the gentle flow of the space made it ideal for a live interview setup. From the back of the stage, you could even see the sun starting its descent—warm gold melting into soft lavender hues.
Jane looked stunning in her short, form-fitting pink gown. Her makeup was light and soft, just enough to highlight her natural glow. She moved gracefully, taking in the beauty of the stage, completely unaware that Killian, too, had a thing for sunsets.
Jane’s POV:
Wow… this stage is gorgeous. I love it here. Slightly turning back, I caught the sunset from the corner of my eye, and without meaning to, I smiled to myself.
I reached for a chocolate cookie from the refreshment table, about to nibble when—bam—he appeared. Killian. Looking all clean, sharp, and just annoyingly sexy in his limited-edition fitted black suit.
Ugh, am I daydreaming again? Snap out of it, Jane! That’s just Killian Chris—the same grumpy guy who barely talks unless it’s a command. No way I’m letting my head spin for him.
He walked across the stage and casually sat beside me on the white couch.
I narrowed my eyes and made a face at him. “Do you really think that cowlick style looks good on you?”
“Cowlick?” he mumbled, confused. He immediately pulled out his phone, tapping rapidly as if trying to search what I meant.
Before he could respond, the camera assistant signaled—it was time. The crew was ready, lights on, mic live. But even with the camera rolling, I could still feel his eyes burning through me. He looked pissed—like an angry bird, honestly.
I cleared my throat, glanced down at the script in my palm, and read the first question.
“I heard you really love your mum. I’m curious, what does she look like?”
His expression shifted instantly. From irritated to cold. His jaw tightened.
I continued, ignoring his glare. “What’s your mum’s favorite food?”
He stood up. Just like that. No response. No explanation. He turned and walked off the stage, leaving everything—and everyone—stunned.
The crew gasped. The audience watching the live feed started murmuring. People didn’t know what just happened. I knew I had to do something fast.
Thinking quickly, I smiled into the camera and said, “Hmm… I think an emergency just occurred. The head manager had to attend to it, but I’m sure he’ll be back soon. While we wait, let me share my thoughts on CB Hotel. It’s been a dream of mine to work there, and here’s why…”
I went on to talk about CB Hotel—how exceptional their services were, the professionalism, the ambience. I kept talking, smiling, holding the moment together, praying he’d come back.
—
Flashback…
Earlier that morning.
A young woman walked up to Jane, handing her a different set of papers.
“Miss Jane, I was told to hand over these scripts for the interview,” she said.
Jane looked confused. “I’ve already received the questions for Mr. Killian. Who asked you to give me these?”
“This is a revised version approved by Mrs. Helen. She said this is what’s best for the interview.”
Jane hesitated but took them anyway.
—
Present…
Killian returned to the stage after a few minutes. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes scanned the crowd, and then landed on me.
He knew. He knew who was behind it.
Helen.
She was the only one who knew that talking about his mother would shake him like that. She planned this. And she was smiling in the corner, thinking she’d succeeded.
But what she didn’t know was that Killian had already made a decision. He wouldn’t let this damage his reputation. He had come back, and that spoke volumes.
Killian’s POV:
What’s this girl’s deal today? First, she insults my hair. Then she digs into things she shouldn’t be asking. But watching her hold the stage together, trying to cover up my reaction… maybe she wasn’t trying to ruin me. Maybe she didn’t know.
I walked back to the couch. Her eyes flicked up, a mix of surprise and mockery.
Jane’s POV:
Well, well, the mighty boss is back. What now?
“So… can we continue the interview?” I asked, keeping it light.
“Yes,” he replied. “But can I see the questions?”
“Sure,” I said, handing the script over.
He looked at the papers briefly… and then, in a move that caught me completely off guard, he flung them into the air. Pages scattered across the stage.
“If this is what I’m really curious about,” he said, his voice low and controlled, “then something’s wrong.”
My eyes widened, but before I could say a word, I asked—without thinking—
“Do you love watching sunsets?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I love sunsets… and nature, generally.”
“Let’s go watch the sunset then,” he said suddenly, not even looking at me.
He stood, and I followed. We moved to the edge of the stage, just as the sun dipped lower. The camera crew instinctively followed, capturing that perfect shot—just the two of us, framed by golden light.
“Oh my God, they look good together,” someone whispered behind us.
Soon, the internet agreed. By the end of the day, the interview hit half a billion views across platforms. People were talking, sharing, shipping.
Once the cameras stopped rolling, I started to relax—until he grabbed my hand and pulled me aside, dragging me to a quiet corner behind the stage.
“Do you know the kind of arrow you threw at me today?” he asked, voice low but filled with arrogance.
I snatched my hand back. “You? Do you even remember the kind of letter you wrote to me the first time we met?”
We stood face-to-face, eyes locked, both furious. Both hurt. Both too proud to back down.
- Writer
