STOLEN GLANCES

EPISODE ELEVEN

THE PRICE OF SILENCE

It had been a week since Noah’s change in demeanor became more pronounced. At first, Ethan had tried to brush it off as some passing phase, perhaps a reaction to the stress they were under, or maybe even Noah’s way of coping with the pressure of his career. But it wasn’t just a phase—it was a performance.

Noah’s flirtations, his charming smile, the way he would casually drop the names of the women he’d been seen with—none of it was innocent. It was as if he was trying to create an entirely new identity, one that didn’t have any place for Ethan in it.

The headlines were unavoidable. Every magazine, every tabloid was filled with photos of Noah laughing with models, dining with high-profile figures, and attending glamorous events with an endless stream of women. The speculation was rampant. “Noah and insert famous actress/model seen together again—Is he moving on?” “The playboy of the entertainment world: Noah’s new era of dating.” The articles seemed to pile up by the day.

Ethan had hoped it would all blow over—after all, Noah was a public figure, and such rumors were commonplace—but it was starting to affect the company. Business meetings were beginning to discuss his image. Some clients were pulling out, citing concerns over Noah’s "unpredictable behavior." Stakeholders were murmuring about his public persona clashing with the polished image they wanted for the group. It was a mess, and Ethan, as his manager, felt the weight of it all on his shoulders.

---

The tension was suffocating in the office as Ethan sat across from the executives, his fingers twitching on the edge of his pen. They had been discussing the fallout from Noah’s public behavior for nearly an hour, the words and implications growing heavier by the minute.

“It’s not just the media, Ethan,” one of the senior executives, Minji, said with a sharp edge in her voice. “It’s how it’s affecting our brand. We need to address this before it spirals out of control. We can’t afford to have our top star acting out like this.”

Ethan’s jaw clenched. He knew the company had a point. Noah’s behavior was out of control, and it was starting to hurt not only his own career but the company’s reputation as well.

“We’ve tried reaching out to him,” Ethan said, keeping his tone even. “But he’s… distant. He doesn’t want to talk.”

Minji crossed her arms. “Then you need to do something, Ethan. You’re his manager. If you can’t rein him in, we’ll have to take a different approach.”

---

Later that evening, Ethan found himself in the lobby of the hotel where Noah was staying. The cold, sterile atmosphere of the lobby only seemed to mirror the distance that had grown between them. Ethan could feel the weight of his responsibility pressing on him with every step. He couldn’t just sit back and watch Noah spiral out of control. But he also couldn’t ignore the fact that Noah was purposefully pushing him away, building walls that Ethan wasn’t sure how to break.

As he entered the elevator and made his way up to Noah’s floor, his mind raced. What was happening to him? Why was Noah doing this? But the answer was clear to him now. Noah was trying to forget something. Someone. And that someone was him.

Ethan reached Noah’s room and knocked on the door. There was no immediate response, but the faint sound of movement from inside made him knock again. Finally, the door opened, and Noah stood before him—looking effortlessly put together, his signature grin plastered on his face.

“Ethan,” Noah said, his voice smooth and casual, but there was something guarded about it, something that Ethan had come to recognize. “What brings you here? You need something?”

Ethan swallowed hard. “We need to talk.”

Noah’s eyes flickered for a moment, and then his grin faded, replaced by a faint glimmer of hesitation. But he stepped aside, allowing Ethan to enter.

Once inside, the room felt oppressive. Noah had bottles of expensive whiskey and wine scattered around, an ashtray with remnants of cigarettes, and clothes carelessly tossed on the furniture—symbols of his attempt to drown something, though Ethan wasn’t sure what.

“You’re really trying to make a statement, huh?” Ethan asked quietly, his gaze drifting to the tabloids on the coffee table. There were pictures of Noah with yet another woman, their smiles wide, their bodies too close.

Noah didn’t respond immediately. He moved toward the bar in the corner of the room, pouring himself a drink. “You know the drill, Ethan. I’m just living my life. What’s the problem?”

Ethan clenched his fists at his sides, trying to contain his frustration. “This isn’t you, Noah. You’re not just some… playboy, okay? This is—this is ridiculous. It’s hurting you, it’s hurting the company, and it’s hurting—”

He stopped himself before he could finish the sentence. The last thing he wanted was to admit what was really bothering him. That it was hurting them—that Noah’s actions were like a dagger to his heart.

But Noah didn’t seem to notice. He turned around, holding his glass with a relaxed grin. “I’m fine, Ethan. Stop worrying about me. I can handle this.”

“No, you can’t,” Ethan shot back, unable to keep his voice steady. “This is... this is a way to hide, Noah. You think that if you act like this, you’ll forget what you’re really running from, but you’re just making it worse.”

For a brief moment, something flickered in Noah’s eyes—something vulnerable that he quickly masked with another smirk. “And what am I running from, huh?”

Ethan swallowed hard, his throat tightening. “From me, Noah.”

There was a silence that stretched between them, thick and heavy, as Noah looked at him. His hand tightened around his glass, the ice clinking softly. Then he sighed, leaning back against the counter, finally dropping the charade.

“I’m not running from you,” Noah said, his voice low. “I’m running from everything. And I don’t know how to fix it, Ethan. I don’t know how to be who you need me to be.”

Ethan’s heart dropped at those words. It was the closest Noah had come to admitting what was truly going on inside of him. But Ethan couldn’t let this slide. He couldn’t let Noah continue down this path.

“You don’t have to be someone else, Noah,” Ethan said quietly, stepping closer. “You just have to be you. The person I’ve always known.”

Noah looked away, his gaze far off, as though searching for something. “I don’t think I’m that person anymore, Ethan.”

Ethan’s chest tightened, but he refused to give up on his friend—on the Noah he still believed was in there somewhere.

“Don’t do this, Noah. Not for me, not for anyone else. You can’t keep running.”

Noah’s silence was the loudest answer he could have given, but it spoke volumes about the distance that had formed between them.

And as Ethan left the hotel room, feeling the weight of the unspoken words hanging in the air, he knew that something had broken between them. But whether it could ever be fixed was another question entirely.