Wives Behind The Scene

Who Has The Talent

Maya

In the sun-drenched nursery, the sharp, rhythmic ripping of diaper tabs was the only sound competing with the low hum of the television mounted on the wall—a background companion I kept on purely to drown out the suffocating quiet of the sprawling, empty house. Leo squirmed beneath my hands, his small legs kicking lazily against the changing table. I worked mechanically, my movements practiced and detached, a phantom operating in a beautifully decorated cage.

On the screen, the neon-bright graphics of a morning entertainment news station flashed, the upbeat theme music cutting through my fog. I reached for a fresh diaper from the stack.

"...and in a massive announcement from Horizon Studios this morning, casting has officially begun for the highly anticipated psychological drama, 'The Climax'..."

My hand froze mid-air, hovering inches above the plastic packaging.

The anchor’s voice carried an enthusiastic, well-rehearsed pitch, but the words themselves felt like a sudden drop in cabin pressure.

I stared at the screen, my heart beginning a slow, heavy thud against my ribs. I told myself it was a coincidence. The industry was full of overlapping tropes. Hollywood recycled ideas every day.

"...and the studio confirms this gripping narrative is based on an uncredited manuscript discovered and heavily mentored by none other than the Romance king himself, Calvin Edward."

The fresh diaper slipped from my fingers, fluttering onto the carpeted floor unnoticed.

The camera cut to a pre-recorded clip of Calvin. He was standing outside a studio lot, looking effortlessly charming in a tailored gray jacket, his perfect smile firmly in place as he spoke into a microphone about 'nurturing raw storytelling' and 'bringing a hidden gem to the big screen.'

The nursery door groaned open. Calvin stepped into the room, a glass of green juice in one hand, his eyes scanning his phone. He looked exactly like the man on the television—polished, successful, and entirely untouchable.

I slowly turned my head away from the screen, my gaze locking onto him. The shock in my veins was rapidly boiling over, turning into a searing, blinding heat. The sheer audacity of his presence in the room made the air feel thin.

"How dare you?"

The words were quiet, but they carried a jagged edge that instantly cut through the room's quiet atmosphere.

Calvin didn’t look up from his phone at first, merely taking a sip of his drink. "What’s that, babe? Did you see the segment? Great press for the studio, right?"

"Why would you take something that is mine?" My voice rose, thick with an agonizing mixture of betrayal and fury. I took a step away from the changing table, my hands trembling so violently I had to fist them into the sides of my thighs. "That script. You stole them."

Calvin finally lowered his phone, his brow furrowing with a look of mild, patronizing confusion. He looked at the television, then back at me, his posture relaxed, almost dismissive. He shrugged, a casual movement that made me feel as though I were watching a stranger rewrite my life.

"Come on, Maya. Don't be dramatic," he said, his tone dropping into that smooth, reasonable register he used to manage public relations disasters. "It was just lying there in the drawer, collecting dust. I read it, it had a solid hook and I pitched it to the executives during our development meeting. I thought you'd be happy. It’s not like you were actually going to use it for anything here."

"Who told you I wasn't going to use it?" A hot tear finally broke free, scalding my cheek, but I refused to wipe it away. The pain was a physical weight, crushing the breath from my lungs. "That story was mine. It was the only part of myself I had left! I wrote it during the early years of acting school. I wrote it from the pieces of my own life!"

Calvin let out a short, irritated sigh, setting his glass down on a nearby shelf with a soft click.

"Let’s be realistic, Maya," he said, stepping closer, his voice flattening into an abrasive hard line. " It is just a script. And, as I said, it really isn't as if you are going to use it at all.

You’ve been out of the loop for years. At least let people who actually have the talent and the platform have the story, so it doesn't just sit in a dark drawer fading away. Don't worry, I made sure they'll leave your name somewhere in the credits. A small acknowledgment in the closing crawl. You’ll get your nod."

I stared at him, the silence in the room suddenly turning absolute. The world around me seemed to narrow down to the sharp contours of his face, the easy arrogance in his eyes, and the utter casualness with which he had just dismantled my worth.

People who actually have the talent.

The phrase repeated in my mind, a cruel loop that didn't break me—it anchored me. The heavy, suffocating despair that had held me captive for years suddenly snapped.

"Lest you forget, Calvin," I whispered, my voice dropping to a terrifyingly calm cadence that made him blink in surprise. I stepped right into his space, forcing him to look down at me. "I gave up my own career in acting for this family. I stood in the wings so you could stand in the spotlight. How dare you stand there and talk to me about talent?"

Calvin opened his mouth to reply, his smooth defense mechanism kicking in, but I didn't give him the chance. I looked past him to the television screen, where his face was still smiling back at the world.

"You want to see people who could actually have it?" I said, the words falling like iron weights between them. "Very well then. I will show you."

I walked right past him, my shoulder brushing his with enough force to make him step back. I didn't look at the changing table, I didn't look at the television, and I didn't look back at him. For the first time in years, I walked out of the house with a destination in mind. And no one having to tell me what I needed to do, or not do.