Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The premiere of the latest Hollywood blockbuster was in full swing, the vibrant energy of the evening palpable in the cool evening air. Paparazzi flashes lit up the scene like a storm of artificial lightning, capturing the arrival of every A-list celebrity and industry mogul. Laughter and chatter rippled through the crowd, mingling with the sounds of clicking cameras and the occasional cheer from devoted fans pressed against the velvet ropes.

Still, the main attraction of the night—the reason many had flocked to this glamorous event—had yet to arrive. The lead star of the film, Alexandra Woods, was conspicuously absent, her entrance eagerly awaited by fans, reporters, and industry insiders alike.

Then it happened. A sleek, black limousine glided to a stop at the edge of the carpet, its tinted windows shielding its occupant from view. The excitement in the air intensified, every head turning toward the vehicle as photographers jostled for the perfect angle.

The door opened, and out stepped Alexandra Woods, her presence commanding immediate attention. Her dark brown hair was styled in a timeless updo, with a few loose strands framing her face in an effortlessly elegant way. Her gown—a masterpiece of couture in shimmering midnight blue—hugged her figure perfectly before cascading to the ground in a waterfall of fabric. Tiny crystals embroidered along the bodice sparkled under the glaring lights, making her seem as though she’d been dipped in starlight.

Her lips were painted in a bold crimson, the color accentuating her radiant smile. But for those who looked closer, there was something almost mechanical about her expression—a carefully rehearsed mask designed to exude confidence and charm. The slight tension in her jaw betrayed the truth: Alexandra Woods was playing a role, not just in the movie, but here on the carpet as well.

She stepped forward gracefully, her stiletto heels clicking softly against the polished red carpet. The crowd erupted into cheers, and she paused for effect, turning slightly to offer the photographers her best angles. Each pose was executed with the precision of someone who had perfected the art of being watched. She waved lightly, her diamond-studded bracelet catching the light, and offered a warm yet distant nod to the fans screaming her name.

As she made her way down the carpet, the barrage of questions began from reporters eager for a quote.

“Alexandra! Over here! How does it feel to be the star of the biggest movie of the year?” one shouted.

“Who designed your gown tonight?” another chimed in.

She stopped momentarily, tilting her head with a dazzling smile. “I feel incredibly honored,” she said smoothly, her voice calm and melodic, “to be part of such an amazing project. And the gown? Dior, of course. They’ve outdone themselves this time.”

She moved on, her smile unwavering as she posed for more pictures. Each step was poised and deliberate, the weight of her gown dragging against her heels. Her team hovered in the background, ensuring every detail was perfect, from the lay of the fabric to the angle of her earrings.

Beneath the blinding lights and layers of makeup, Alexandra’s thoughts drifted elsewhere. The deafening cheers, the flashing cameras, the constant scrutiny—it was all so exhausting. She longed for the quiet of her hotel suite, where she could slip out of this dazzling armor and simply be herself. But for now, the performance continued, her every move scrutinized and immortalized in the cameras of those watching.

As she reached the grand entrance of the theater, the light shifted. It was warmer here, less harsh, and she could almost feel the pressure lifting. Before stepping inside, she turned back one last time, waving to the crowd with that same poised smile. The cameras flashed again, their intensity undiminished, and then the heavy doors closed behind her, silencing the chaos.

For just a moment, Alexandra paused in the dimmed hallway, exhaling slowly. The role of the evening had been demanding, but she had played it perfectly. Now, she could let herself slip into the shadows, where the spotlight couldn’t reach.

Anya, Alexandra's sharp-eyed manager, stood waiting for her in the dimly lit hallway. She crossed her arms, a practiced look of calm masking the tension beneath.

"Do I really have to stay tonight?" Alexandra asked, her voice low but firm. Her polished facade was beginning to crack, weariness evident in her tone.

Anya glanced at her phone, likely juggling a dozen schedules and PR plans in her mind. "No," she said after a beat. "We can get you out discreetly through the back exit."

Relief flickered across Alexandra's face as Anya handed her a long trench coat and a wide-brimmed hat, their muted colors a stark contrast to the shimmering glamour of her gown. Together, they moved quickly through the narrow service corridors of the theater, avoiding the chaos of the premiere still in full swing.

The back door creaked open, revealing a neutral sedan with darkly tinted windows waiting at the curb. Alexandra climbed into the car, keeping her head down, and within moments, they were gone—no cameras, no fans, no spotlight.

When they arrived at the hotel, Alexandra wasted no time. She shed her designer gown and sparkling jewelry, letting them fall onto the plush armchair in the corner. The weight of the night lifted slightly with every swipe of a makeup wipe, every pin pulled from her carefully styled hair. Her reflection in the mirror shifted from the Hollywood starlet back to the person she recognized as herself.

Pulling on a loose hoodie, faded jeans, sunglasses, and a baseball cap, Alexandra took one last look in the mirror. This was her armor now—not for the cameras, but for anonymity.

By the time she slipped out of the hotel’s service exit, the premiere was still in full swing, with reporters buzzing about her as if she were inside the theater, watching the film with the rest of the cast and crew. The world believed she was exactly where they expected her to be.

Instead, she wandered through the city streets, blending seamlessly into the late-night crowd. No one gave her a second glance, mistaking her for just another passerby wrapped in the chill of the evening. The cool breeze brushed her face, and for the first time that night, Alexandra felt like she could breathe.

For a few precious hours, Alexandra Woods wasn’t the star of the year’s biggest film. She wasn’t the center of attention or the face of an elaborate PR campaign.

She was just a person walking under the city lights, utterly and wonderfully invisible.

Alexandra decided to step into a cozy, dimly lit bar. The sound of muffled laughter and soft music welcomed her as she pushed open the heavy wooden door. She made her way to the counter and ordered a beer, her hoodie and cap keeping her well under the radar.

Further down the bar, a group of young women was clearly deep into a celebration. Their laughter and excited chatter carried across the room, infectious even to those not part of their party. Alexandra couldn’t help but smile at their unfiltered joy, a rare sight compared to the polished facades she was used to.

“Cheers!” a dark-haired woman shouted, raising her glass high and grinning at the entire bar. Several patrons joined in, lifting their drinks in good-natured agreement, but Alexandra simply chuckled to herself, sipping her beer.

“You too!” the dark-haired woman suddenly called, her gaze locking onto Alexandra. Before she could protest, the woman walked right up to her, glass in hand. “Come on, cheers with me!”

Alexandra raised her beer with an amused smile. “What are we cheering for?” she asked, her voice warm but cautious.

The woman beamed, her cheeks flushed with drink. “My friend here! She just got her first art exhibition!” she said proudly, slurring her words slightly. “Where is my friend? My friend…” She turned dramatically, scanning the room with exaggerated movements. “Where is my friend? CLARKE!”

A blonde woman appeared from the crowd, her movements steady and her expression calm, in stark contrast to her friend’s theatrical antics. “What’s wrong, Raven?” she asked, her tone patient but with a hint of exasperation.

Raven threw an arm around Clarke and waved her glass in the air. “We’re cheering for you!” she declared dramatically, nearly spilling her drink.

“Great,” Clarke said with a small, amused smile, her voice soft and even. She glanced at Alexandra briefly, her expression polite but guarded, before turning back to Raven.

Alexandra raised her beer again, clinking glasses with both women. “Congratulations,” she said, her words directed toward Clarke.

“Thank you,” Clarke replied simply, her smile lingering.

As the group resumed their celebration, Alexandra found her gaze returning to Clarke. There was something about her—her understated beauty, the quiet confidence in her movements, the way she seemed so grounded despite the chaos around her. Alexandra didn’t notice the smile creeping back onto her lips until Clarke’s blue eyes flickered in her direction again, catching her staring.

Clarke tilted her head slightly, a curious look crossing her face. Alexandra quickly looked away, her cheeks heating under the brim of her cap.

Alexandra sipped her beer slowly, deliberately, keeping her focus anywhere but on the lively group celebrating at the other end of the bar. She was so intent on not looking at Clarke that she didn’t notice when the blonde slipped away from the others. Suddenly, Clarke was standing beside her, a faint smile playing on her lips.

“Hi,” Clarke said, her voice soft but confident.

Alexandra startled slightly, turning to look at her properly for the first time. “Hi,” she replied, her voice quieter than she intended.

“You were checking me out earlier,” Clarke said matter-of-factly, her tone laced with playful confidence.

Alexandra opened her mouth to respond but found herself utterly at a loss for words. She closed it again, flustered, trying to think of a denial or excuse, but nothing came.

“It’s okay,” Clarke said, letting her teasing edge soften. “I’m Clarke.”

“Lexa,” Alexandra replied, using the name she often gave when she wanted anonymity.

“Nice to meet you, Lexa,” Clarke said, her smile growing.

“You too,” Alexandra—Lexa—mumbled, trying not to betray the fact that her heart was racing.

Clarke reached out and gently placed her hand over Lexa’s. The touch was light, nonchalant, but it sent a wave of warmth through Lexa. “Do you maybe want to find somewhere a little more private?” Clarke asked, her tone casual but her intent clear.

Lexa hesitated, glancing toward Clarke’s friends, who were still engrossed in their celebration, laughing and cheering together. “Your friends are here celebrating you,” she said, her voice hoarse, her throat suddenly dry.

Clarke smiled, leaning in slightly. “We’ve been celebrating all day. I can think of something more fun to do,” she said with a glint of mischief in her eye.

Lexa’s gaze flickered back to the group of women, who seemed oblivious to Clarke’s absence. After a moment’s pause, she nodded. “I have a hotel room not far from here,” she said, her voice quiet but steady.

Clarke raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised.

“Business trip,” Lexa clarified quickly, smiling faintly. “Don’t worry, I’m not hiding a wife and kids somewhere.”

Clarke laughed, a soft, genuine sound that made Lexa’s chest tighten. Without another word, they slipped out of the bar together, disappearing into the cool night air.

The city lights reflected in the puddles on the sidewalk as they walked side by side, a quiet anticipation hanging between them. For once, Alexandra—Lexa—felt like someone else entirely.

Clarke had expected a small, modest hotel room—something practical, with a bed and a tiny bathroom. Or, at most, a slightly nicer room if Lexa worked for a well-off company. What she hadn’t anticipated was stepping into a space that screamed luxury.

The room was massive, far larger than Clarke’s entire apartment. The ceilings were high, adorned with modern light fixtures, and the plush carpet underfoot muffled their steps. A sleek sitting area with a velvet sofa and a marble-topped coffee table occupied one corner, while floor-to-ceiling windows offered a stunning view of the city skyline, glittering in the night.

Lexa closed a discreet door leading to another part of the suite, where Clarke caught a glimpse of an elegant dress hanging—likely the outfit from whatever high-profile event Lexa had escaped. Instead, Lexa guided her into the bedroom, where a king-sized bed with pristine white linens awaited.

Clarke turned to face Lexa, still taking in the sheer opulence of the space. Her surprise was momentarily forgotten when Lexa leaned in, her lips brushing against Clarke’s in a soft, exploratory kiss. Clarke responded eagerly, her hands resting lightly on Lexa’s waist.

But curiosity got the better of her. Breaking the kiss with a small laugh, Clarke pulled back just enough to say, “You’re rich.”

Lexa blinked, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then, with a faint shrug and a simple smile, she said, “Yeah.”

Clarke studied her for a second, taking in the casual jeans, hoodie, and baseball cap. There was no arrogance in her demeanor, no indication of wealth or privilege. If anything, Lexa seemed determined to blend in, to hide who she really was. Clarke chose not to press further. Instead, she nodded with a small smile, accepting the answer for now.

When their lips met again, the rest of the room faded away. The world outside didn’t matter. Slowly, they moved closer to the bed, their kisses deepening with each step. For Clarke, this moment wasn’t about the lavish surroundings or the questions lingering in her mind. It was about the undeniable connection between them, the electricity that seemed to spark every time Lexa’s hand brushed against hers.

As they sank onto the bed together, the city lights outside continued to glitter, but neither of them noticed.

Lexa woke up first. The morning light filtered softly through the heavy curtains, casting a golden glow on Clarke, who was still sound asleep beside her. For a moment, Lexa allowed herself to simply look at her—how peaceful and beautiful she looked, her blonde hair slightly tousled and her lips curved in the faintest hint of a smile.

But the tranquility was short-lived. A jolt of panic shot through Lexa as reality set in. She wasn’t out. If word got out about this—about Clarke—it could ruin everything.

Sliding out of bed as quietly as possible, Lexa grabbed her phone and hurried into the living area of the suite. Her hands trembled slightly as she dialed Anya’s number.

The call connected almost immediately. "Good morning, Lexa. You're up early. Your first interview isn’t until later today," Anya said, her voice brisk and professional as always.

“Help…” Lexa’s voice was barely above a whisper, laced with panic.

There was a beat of silence before Anya’s tone shifted. “What’s wrong?” she asked, instantly alert.

“There’s a woman in my bed,” Lexa mumbled, sinking onto the sofa and cradling her head in one hand while gripping the phone tightly with the other.

Anya sighed deeply, her disappointment evident. “Alex… You know this is terrible timing for your career.”

“I know,” Lexa muttered, her voice filled with regret. “I’m not coming out now. I can’t.”

“Okay,” Anya said, her voice calm but calculating. Lexa could almost hear her manager’s brain working through the problem.

“She doesn’t know who I am. I don’t think she recognized me,” Lexa added quickly, as if trying to convince both Anya and herself.

“Alright,” Anya said, her tone sharper now. “I’m ordering a car. You need to leave the hotel immediately. Don’t wake her. Don’t say goodbye. We can’t risk her recognizing you in the daylight.”

“I don’t want to be an asshole,” Lexa whispered, guilt weighing heavily on her.

“I know you don’t,” Anya said, her voice softening for a moment. “I’ll handle it. I’ll apologize to her when she signs the NDA.”

“Anya…” Lexa started, hesitating.

“It’s nothing harsh,” Anya reassured her. “Just something to ensure she doesn’t go to the media. Standard procedure.”

“She only knows me as Lexa. Nothing else. She doesn’t know who I am,” Lexa insisted.

“Fine. I’ll keep it simple.” Anya said

“Her name is Clarke Griffin,” Lexa said quiet

“You need to go now. I’ll come by later to pack your things,” Anya said firmly.

“Okay,” Lexa agreed reluctantly.

She moved quickly, packing a small bag with only the essentials. As she approached the door, she glanced back at Clarke, who was still sound asleep, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Lexa hesitated, her hand gripping the doorknob. She didn’t want to leave like this. Reaching for a notepad on the desk, she scribbled her private number and signed it simply as Lexa. After a moment’s thought, she tucked the paper into Clarke’s jacket pocket, hanging neatly on the chair.

Without another glance, she slipped out of the room, the door clicking softly shut behind her.

Anya arrived at the hotel suite shortly after Lexa had left. She glanced at the sleeping blonde woman sprawled on the bed—Clarke Griffin, Lexa had said. Quietly, Anya began packing some of Lexa’s belongings into a bag, moving efficiently but carefully. As Clarke stirred and began to wake, Anya stepped closer, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor.

“Clarke Griffin,” Anya said, her voice calm but firm.

Clarke jolted awake, her eyes wide with confusion. “Who are you?” she asked, glancing around the room as if searching for Lexa.

“Lexa asked me to apologize on her behalf. She had to leave,” Anya explained evenly.

Clarke frowned and instinctively pulled the duvet tighter around herself. “Can I have my clothes?” she asked, her tone clipped.

“Of course.” Anya retrieved Clarke’s scattered clothing and handed it to her without hesitation. Then, sensing the tension, she stepped out of the bedroom to give Clarke some privacy.

A few minutes later, Clarke emerged, fully dressed, her posture stiff with irritation. Anya stood by the desk, holding a document. “I need you to sign this,” Anya said, motioning for Clarke to approach.

“What is it?” Clarke asked, narrowing her eyes as she scanned the paper.

“An NDA,” Anya replied smoothly. “It simply states that you won’t go to the media or share any details about your evening here or your meeting with Lexa.”

Clarke raised an eyebrow. “Is she famous or something?”

“Or something,” Anya replied vaguely. “The fewer questions you ask, the better off you’ll be.”

Clarke let out a sharp breath but said nothing further, picking up the pen and signing the document.

“If you’d like a copy, I’ll need to step down to the reception to make one,” Anya offered.

“I’d like a copy,” Clarke said tersely, her voice tight with restrained anger.

Anya nodded. “I’ll be right back.”

As Anya left the suite, Clarke stood alone in the luxurious space, her eyes wandering over the lavish furnishings. Frustration bubbled inside her. She couldn’t quite pinpoint why the situation enraged her so much, but the way Lexa had left without saying goodbye felt cold and dismissive.

Grabbing her phone, Clarke typed "Lexa" into a search engine, hoping to uncover who Lexa really was. But after several frustrating minutes of sifting through irrelevant results, she gave up. The name must have been fake.

Anya returned promptly, handing Clarke her copy of the NDA. “Again, I apologize for Lexa’s absence. Her schedule is very demanding,” she said with practiced professionalism.

“Right,” Clarke replied curtly, her lips pressing into a thin line. She was ready to leave, afraid her irritation might spill over into words she couldn’t take back.

As Clarke turned to go, Anya stopped her with a question. “Do you have anything you’d like me to pass on to Lexa?”

Clarke hesitated, meeting Anya’s eyes. She considered unloading all her pent-up anger but decided against it. Shaking her head, she gave a terse, “No.”

Without another word, Clarke left the suite, the hollow sound of the door closing echoing behind her.

Lexa felt restless as she waited in the wings of the talk show set. She adjusted the hem of her sleek, designer dress and exhaled slowly. Her hair was swept up into an elegant style, every strand perfectly in place, but inside, she was anything but composed.

Anya hadn’t arrived yet, which Lexa knew was because her manager was still working to ensure the story didn’t break. The story. Clarke.

Lexa’s thoughts churned as she tried to make sense of the situation. She had left Clarke her number—well, a number, signed only with her pseudonym—and given Anya the task of handling things on the ground with a sterile, standardized NDA. It had been the safest option. But now, standing here, Lexa wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted. Did she hope Clarke would reach out? That thought felt like a threat to everything she’d built. Or did she hope Clarke would vanish into the ether, never contacting her again?

Deep down, she knew the truth: she wanted to see Clarke again. Their brief encounter had been electric, a rare spark in the otherwise controlled and detached life Lexa led. It had awakened something in her.

The sound of hurried footsteps drew her out of her thoughts. She turned to see Anya approaching with her usual purposeful stride. Lexa straightened immediately.

“How did it go? Did she say anything?” Lexa asked, her voice betraying her anxiety.

Anya shrugged, her expression unreadable as always. “It went fine. She didn’t say much.”

Lexa’s shoulders relaxed slightly—until Anya added, “But she seemed angry.”

The words hit Lexa harder than she expected. Anger was dangerous. It heightened the risk to her career. And worse, it made the possibility of Clarke reaching out seem even more remote.

“She signed without much hesitation, but we should prepare for the possibility of rumors,” Anya continued, her tone pragmatic.

Lexa nodded, her mood growing heavier. She trusted Anya to handle the logistics, but no amount of professionalism could quiet the nagging ache in her chest.

“Right now, you need to focus,” Anya said, her sharp tone pulling Lexa back to the present. “The questions will mostly be about the new film and your future projects. There’s nothing in the briefing about your personal life, but the host has a reputation for throwing in surprises. Be ready. Keep answers about relationships as vague as possible.”

Lexa nodded again, her resolve hardening.

The crowd beyond the stage began to cheer as the host introduced her with an energetic flourish. Lexa took a deep breath, adjusted her posture, and stepped into the spotlight, her signature smile firmly in place.

But as she walked onto the stage, her mind lingered on Clarke, a quiet hope still flickering somewhere deep inside.

Clarke was already exhausted by the time she arrived home, the crumpled NDA still clutched in her hand. The anger she’d felt leaving the hotel had dulled into a simmering frustration, but she knew her roommates would have plenty of questions about her one-night stand—questions she didn’t have the energy to answer.

As she stepped into their small apartment, she tossed her jacket over the back of a chair and dropped the NDA onto the table with a sigh.

“Did you have a good night?” Octavia called from the cramped kitchen, where she was stirring something on the stove.

“Tell us everything,” Raven chimed in from the couch, a grin on her face as she tinkered with a half-disassembled laptop.

Clarke rolled her eyes and sank into a chair. “It was a good night,” she said with a dry tone, “but not a great morning.”

Octavia turned, her expression curious. “What happened?”

Clarke ran a hand through her hair, leaning back in the chair. “She treated me like I was a goddess all night. And then this morning, she was gone—her assistant was there instead, with that.” Clarke pointed at the crumpled papers on the table.

“What’s that?” Raven asked, finally looking up from her laptop.

Octavia was closer, so she leaned in to take a look. “An NDA?” she asked, her voice laced with surprise.

“Yeah. Turns out she’s some closeted celebrity,” Clarke said, shaking her head.

“Who was she?” Octavia pressed.

“No idea. I’m pretty sure the name she gave me was fake, and I don’t exactly keep up with celebrities,” Clarke replied, the weariness in her voice evident.

“But I do!” Raven said, already reaching for the papers. “I love following all the celebrity drama, and I didn’t recognize her last night either.”

“You were pretty drunk, Raven,” Octavia pointed out. “By the end of the night, you couldn’t even recognize me.”

Raven waved her off, her focus shifting to her phone as she typed the name Lexa into a search engine.

“Honestly, it doesn’t matter,” Clarke interjected, rubbing her temples. “It was a one-night stand. I’m not going to see her again, and I’m definitely not going to the press with anything. It’s over. Can we talk about something else now?”

Raven shrugged, her search coming up empty. “She definitely gave you a fake name,” she said, closing her phone and setting the NDA back on the table.

“Subject change,” Clarke insisted firmly.

Octavia took the cue and started talking about her boyfriend Lincoln, steering the conversation away from Clarke’s frustrating morning. Clarke leaned back in her chair, half-listening, trying to shake the lingering irritation. The mysterious "Lexa" wasn’t worth the energy—was she?

When Lexa returned to her new hotel room after a long day of interviews, she felt a mixture of exhaustion, sadness, and, unexpectedly, inspiration. Acting was her primary craft, the one the world knew her for, but what no one outside her closest circle realized was that she also loved music. Over the years, she'd written songs in secret, many of which had been passed on to other singers and released under an alias. Yet it had been ages since she’d felt the urge to write anything herself.

Of course, this meant she hadn’t packed a guitar for this trip.

Pacing the spacious hotel room, snippets of lyrics and melodies swirled in her mind, refusing to quiet down. Finally, unable to resist, she picked up the phone and called the reception desk.

"Hi," she said, her voice polite but firm. "I know this is an unusual request, but is there any way someone could purchase a guitar for me?"

There was a pause before the receptionist replied, clearly caught off guard. "A...guitar, ma'am?"

"Yes," Lexa said. "It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. Just something functional."

It was the sort of request only someone staying at a luxury hotel—and willing to pay handsomely—could make. Thirty minutes later, there was a knock at her door. A young man handed her a brand-new acoustic guitar. She tipped him generously, thanked him, and was left alone again.

Lexa set her phone on the bedside table and hit record. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, she strummed a few tentative chords, letting her fingers find the melody that had been playing in her head all evening. Her voice was soft as she began to sing:

"There I was again tonight,
Forcing laughter, faking smiles.
Same old tired, lonely place."

The words caught in her throat, a lump forming as she let the lyrics articulate the feelings she so rarely allowed herself to confront.

"Walls of insincerity,
Shifting eyes and vacancy
Vanished when I saw your face.
All I can say is,
It was enchanting to meet you."

The song poured out of her in pieces—lines adjusted, chords shifted, melodies refined. Hours passed without her noticing, the hotel room falling into a tranquil silence between each verse.

By the time she finished, Lexa had a full song—her first in years. The feeling was bittersweet, the catharsis of creation tempered by the reality that she had no idea what to do with it.

Setting the guitar aside, she grabbed her phone and checked her messages. Nothing. Clarke hadn’t reached out.

Lexa sighed, setting the phone back down. She tried not to dwell on it, but the truth was she doubted Clarke ever would write to her. And maybe, Lexa thought, that was for the best. Even if it didn’t feel that way.

Clarke had been unusually lost in her own thoughts all day. It irritated her to no end that Lexa occupied so much space in her mind, especially when she didn’t even have a way to contact her. She wasn’t sure what she would say if she could, but she hated how things had ended between them—unfinished and cold.

“Ugh, I can’t find my wallet!” Raven’s frustrated voice cut through Clarke’s internal storm. She was pacing around the apartment, rummaging through drawers and under cushions with increasing desperation.

“What?” Clarke asked, finally snapping out of her thoughts.

“We’re trying to order pizza,” Octavia explained from her perch on the sofa, her phone in hand. “Raven offered to pay since I’m broke, but now she can’t find her wallet.”

Clarke pushed herself up from her chair, already heading toward her jacket. “Mine should be in my pocket. Hold on.”

She dug through the jacket hanging on the back of a chair, feeling for her card. Sure enough, it was there. She handed it to Octavia, who immediately started inputting the details on her phone. But as Clarke turned the pocket inside out to make sure there wasn’t anything else, her fingers brushed against a small, crumpled piece of paper.

Raven was still muttering to herself as she tore through her bag, and Octavia was focused on finalizing their pizza order. Clarke unfolded the paper, her movements slowing as she saw what it was: a phone number, scrawled in neat, careful handwriting, with a single name underneath.

Lexa.

Clarke’s breath caught for a moment, her heart racing as the name sent a tidal wave of emotions crashing over her. Frustration and anger resurfaced—how dare Lexa put her through all that and leave her with nothing but mixed signals? But beneath the irritation, there was something else: relief. Excitement. Lexa hadn’t been indifferent. She hadn’t just discarded Clarke after all. She had left this—a connection.

Clarke stared at the number, her thumb brushing over the ink as she debated her next move. Should she call? Should she text? What would she even say?

The bubbling frustration finally broke through the noise of everything else. Clarke pulled out her phone, fingers trembling slightly as she entered the number into a new message. Her emotions were all over the place, but the anger—sharp and unresolved—won out.

She typed the words and then, before she could second-guess herself, she hit send.

"What the hell?"

Chapter Text

Lexa sat at the head of the table, her attention divided between the ongoing PR meeting and the message she had received from Clarke. Anya was speaking about the preparations for Lexa's next film, outlining the tasks that had to be done before shooting started, but Lexa’s thoughts were still on the message from Clarke. The words "What the hell?" were burned into her mind. She wasn’t sure how to respond. An apology? A full explanation? The idea of telling Clarke who she truly was made her uneasy.

"I also think we should consider a new PR relationship," Anya said, bringing Lexa back to the present. She glanced around the room at her team, who were all listening attentively. Lexa knew why Anya suggested this. In case rumors about her sexuality resurfaced, it would be easier to manage the narrative with a public heterosexual relationship.

The room fell silent for a moment as her team processed the suggestion. While the idea wasn’t new, Lexa didn’t really like it. She had already been through too many PR relationships, and each one added to her reputation as a flirt—someone who had multiple exes and might even be seen as a bit promiscuous. It had been a way to deflect rumors about her real identity and make her seem more attractive.

It surprised her that no one questioned Anya's suggestion. The truth was, Anya often pushed for these relationships as a way to maintain Lexa’s image, to keep her career moving in the right direction.

Once the discussion wrapped up, Anya mentioned she would put together a list of potential candidates for the fake relationship.

As the others started to leave, Lexa called Anya back. "Anya?"

Anya stopped and turned back to her. "Yeah?"

"I’ve started writing music again. For the first time in a long time, I feel inspired," Lexa said quietly.

Anya smiled, a supportive look crossing her face. "That’s great! I’m glad to hear it."

Lexa paused, unsure if she should continue. "I’m thinking that if it keeps going, I might want to release it under my own name, not an alias."

"That sounds like a good idea. You’re famous enough that it won’t hurt your acting career," Anya replied, nodding.

Lexa felt a pang of hesitation before adding, "I also thought, with this PR relationship idea... maybe we can find someone who looks a little like Clarke. If these songs keep being about her."

Anya studied Lexa for a long moment, as if trying to piece together what she was really saying. Finally, she nodded slowly. "Give me a list of your criteria, and I’ll do my best."

Once Anya had left, Lexa sat alone, her phone still in her hand. The message from Clarke—"What the hell?"—still lingered on the screen. She took a deep breath, typed out a simple reply, and pressed send. "Hey Clarke."

Clarke stood in her small studio, a modest loft space she rented just above the city streets. The room was sparse, cluttered with unfinished canvases, paint tubes scattered across the floor, and brushes left soaking in jars of murky water. The single skylight overhead cast a pale gray light into the room, muted by the overcast New York sky. She had been standing in front of the blank canvas for what felt like hours, brush in hand but entirely motionless. The canvas was still stark white, untouched.

She couldn’t focus. Not on the canvas, not on the paint, not on anything except the message she had sent Lexa the night before. The words "What the hell?" still lingered in her mind, a brash opening to an already fragile connection.

Clarke had replayed the night over and over, her thoughts swinging between regret and frustration. She barely knew Lexa—just one night of flirtation and stolen moments—but somehow, the memory of her lingered in every quiet moment since. She had considered sending a follow-up message but stopped herself each time. What if Lexa thought she was clingy? Or worse, what if she never responded?

Her phone sat on the table nearby, taunting her with its silence. It was hard to focus on anything else when her thoughts kept spiraling back to Lexa. The way she had smiled, the way her voice had sounded—Clarke hated how deeply one night had burrowed into her, but she couldn’t shake it.

Just as Clarke sighed and set the brush down, her phone buzzed on the wooden worktable. Her pulse quickened as she snatched it up. The screen lit up with a new message.

"Hey Clarke."

That was it. Two simple words, yet they carried more weight than Clarke expected. Relief washed over her as she stared at the screen. She couldn’t help but smile, the tension that had been building all day loosening in her chest. Lexa had responded. Lexa hadn’t written her off.

Clarke sat down on the threadbare couch pushed against one wall and typed back, "Thanks for replying. I’m glad you did." She hit send, her heart hammering in her chest.

The reply came quickly. "I’m sorry about how things ended between us. I panicked and let my manager handle it. As you’ve probably guessed, I’m... well-known and not out. I’m sorry."

Clarke stared at the screen, rereading the message. None of it was surprising, not really. She’d pieced it together the morning after, but it felt different hearing it from Lexa herself. The honesty was unexpected but appreciated. Clarke took a deep breath and replied, "It’s okay. I just wish I’d heard it from you and not her first."

The dots appeared on her screen, then disappeared, then reappeared, as if Lexa were struggling to find the right words. Finally, the message came through.

"It was hard to leave when you were so beautiful, but honestly, I was scared you’d recognize me. It felt nice just being Lexa."

Clarke reread the message twice, her heart doing a strange flip in her chest. Lexa thought she was beautiful. The compliment settled into her like a warmth she hadn’t realized she needed. But the message also carried weight—Lexa had hidden herself intentionally. It wasn’t just panic; it was fear of being exposed.

After a moment of hesitation, Clarke wrote back, "I’d like to see you again, but how can I if I’m not allowed to know who you are?"

This time, the response came quickly. "I’d like to see you too. But I’m back in Los Angeles now. I was only in New York for work."

Clarke frowned at the screen. Los Angeles. The distance felt insurmountable. Not just physical, but the distance of their lives, their worlds. She started to type a response, something to gently let Lexa down, when another message popped up.

"I’m scared of what it would mean for my career if anyone found out. But I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s been so long since I’ve been honest with anyone besides my manager. If we were to try this, I’d have to be cautious—more than just an NDA. I don’t know if you’d want that."

Clarke stared at the message. It was raw and vulnerable, a rare glimpse into a world she didn’t fully understand. She felt the weight of Lexa’s words, the vulnerability in them. It wasn’t just about the distance or the secrecy. It was about trust and the risk that came with opening herself up to Clarke. The thought was both daunting and exhilarating. She hesitated before typing a reply.

"I want to see you too, but maybe we can start by just talking. You can be Lexa for me a little while longer."

She hit send, her heart pounding. Whatever came next, she wasn’t ready to let this go just yet.

Lexa sat at the edge of her sleek, modern desk in her Los Angeles home, the faint hum of the city outside her windows blending with the quiet strains of music playing in the background. Her home was as polished and curated as the image she projected to the world—minimalist furniture, sharp angles, and soft, neutral tones. Yet, for all its beauty, it lacked warmth, much like her life these days.

She opened her laptop, staring at the empty document meant to outline the ideal traits of her next PR partner. This task felt more personal than any before. The usual PR fluff—"handsome, charismatic, media-friendly"—felt hollow now. Her mind kept drifting back to Clarke, the woman she couldn’t quite forget.

Lexa tapped her pen on the desk, her gaze wandering to the oversized windows framing the Los Angeles skyline. "Blonde hair, blue eyes," she typed, pausing as she realized how absurdly specific—and obviously Clarke-like—she was being. "Artist," she added hesitantly. "Painter, if possible." The words on the screen felt ridiculous, a shallow checklist for someone meant to fill a role that was anything but real.

When her thoughts became too much, she pushed back from the desk and paced her living room. The house was silent, the stillness pressing on her. Lexa reached for her phone, pulling up Clarke's last text. She hadn’t heard from her in hours, but the memory of Clarke’s words still lingered, soft and bittersweet.

Unable to resist, she typed a message: "I'm thinking of you."

She hesitated for only a second before sending it. The vulnerability in those words felt like a crack in the armor she’d so carefully built over the years. But the thought of Clarke—her laughter, her art, her unapologetic presence—made Lexa willing to take the risk.

Placing the phone on the counter, Lexa sighed and leaned against the kitchen island, her gaze drifting to the guitar propped against the wall. Her fingers itched to play, to write. Clarke had been a spark, a muse, awakening parts of Lexa she thought had long since been buried.

For now, the thought of Clarke’s smile, even miles away, was enough to keep her going.

Lexa sat by the floor-to-ceiling window of her Los Angeles home, the city sprawling below her like a sea of endless possibilities, glowing faintly in the dimming light. She had been staring out at the skyline for what felt like hours, lost in thought, when her phone buzzed against the desk.

Reaching for it absentmindedly, her heart skipped a beat as Clarke’s name lit up the screen.

“Thnking of u too baby.”

Lexa stared at the text, her lips twitching into a soft smile. The typo—"thnknig" instead of "thinking"—and the ease with which Clarke had added baby felt deeply personal, as though Clarke had sent the message in a rush, her thoughts spilling out unfiltered. For a moment, Lexa let herself indulge in the fantasy of belonging to someone like Clarke.

But the fantasy carried weight. Lexa knew the risks, the complications.

Setting her phone down, she reached for the guitar resting by her desk. The worn wood and familiar strings felt grounding. She hesitated, then strummed a few soft chords. A melody began to form, almost instinctively, and she sang quietly:

"I’m perfectly fine, I live on my own.
I made up my mind, I’m better off being alone.
We met a few weeks ago,
Now you try on calling me, baby, like trying on clothes."

Lexa paused, letting the notes linger in the quiet room. Her mind swirled with emotions as she continued, the words flowing from her like a confession:

"And all at once, I’ve been waiting, waiting.
Ooh whoa, ooh whoa.
And all at once, you are the one I have been waiting, waiting.

late in the night, the citys asleep.
Your love is a secret I’m hoping, dreaming, dying to keep.
Change my priorities.
The taste of your lips is my idea of luxury

And all at once, you are the one I have been waiting for.”

Hours passed like seconds. By the time she played the final notes, the room was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the city outside. She reached for her phone, her fingers trembling slightly as she opened the voice recorder.

Lexa played the song once more, her voice steady and low as she let the music fill the empty space. When she finished, she saved the demo and sat in silence for a long moment.

She knew she couldn’t keep it to herself.

Opening her messages, she typed slowly:

"Please don’t share this or send it to anyone. It hasn’t been released yet. Yours, Lexa."

Attaching the file, she stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over the send button. Before she could overthink it, she pressed send.

The message disappeared, and with it, a piece of her.

Clarke had been stressed for hours, her thoughts racing as she prepared for the biggest moment of her career – the opening of her art exhibition. It was tomorrow, but today was the day she needed to check on everything. The gallery needed to be perfect. The paintings had to be arranged just right, the lighting adjusted to highlight her work, and everything needed to feel exactly the way she’d envisioned it for months.

She raced around her apartment, pulling clothes on in a hurry, running from one room to the next, desperately searching for her phone and keys. She had a few minutes before she had to leave, and she needed to make sure she wasn’t late.

After a frantic few moments, Clarke found her keys. But her phone was nowhere to be found. She paused for a second, about to give up on the search when she heard a sleepy voice from the hallway.

“You’re up early,” Octavia murmured, stepping out of her room with wild hair and a yawn.

“I’m trying to leave, but I can’t find my phone anywhere. Can you call it for me?” Clarke asked, exasperated.

Octavia rubbed her eyes, nodding. “Sure, no problem.”

She pulled out her own phone and dialed Clarke’s number. As it rang, Clarke’s phone began to vibrate beneath one of the couch cushions. She hurried over and pulled it out. “Ugh, I must’ve been so tired last night that I left it here,” Clarke muttered.

Octavia chuckled softly. “You’re a mess.”

Clarke smiled weakly, feeling the weight of everything bearing down on her. She ended the call from Octavia’s phone, and saw a message from Lexa.

"Please don’t share this or send it to anyone. It hasn’t been released yet. Yours, Lexa."

Clarke raised an eyebrow, curiosity sparking in her chest. She clicked on the audio file attached to the message, and the first note of a simple guitar melody filled her ears. The voice that followed was soft and emotional, but it was unmistakably Lexa’s. Clarke froze, listening, the words of the song drawing her in deeper with each line.

“I’m perfectly fine, I live on my own. I made up my mind, I’m better off being alone…” Lexa’s voice floated through the apartment, raw and tender. The song spoke of isolation, but the more Clarke listened, the more it seemed like it was about the two of them.

“Woah, what’s that?” Octavia asked, noticing Clarke’s frozen state and stepping closer to listen.

Clarke barely heard her friend’s voice over the sound of the song. She couldn’t take her eyes off the phone screen, the melody wrapping around her heart. She felt a rush of emotions – confusion, longing, and something else. The song felt like a confession, something deeply personal, and Clarke wasn’t sure how to react. Was it about her?

They stood in silence for a moment as the song played on, both of them quietly listening until the final notes faded away.

“Who was that?” Octavia asked once the song ended.

Clarke cleared her throat, still trying to process the emotions stirred up by the music. “That was from Lexa.”

“Shit, your girl’s a singer,” Octavia said, her tone a mix of surprise and amusement. “Do you think it was about you?”

Clarke swallowed hard, unsure how to explain what she was feeling. “Yeah,” she whispered. Her mind was still racing, the song echoing in her head. The connection she felt to it, to Lexa… it was overwhelming. She couldn’t quite understand why it hit her so hard.

“Damn, that was really good,” Octavia added, her voice soft with admiration.

“Yeah,” Clarke replied again, her mind still distant. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t done anything except stand there, still processing everything. The quiet was suddenly heavy, and it felt like a spell had been cast over her.

Then, with a sudden rush of realization, Clarke snapped out of it. She could hear Octavia shuffling around, but her focus returned to the task at hand. “I have to go. I’ll see you later,” she said quickly, grabbing her things and rushing out the door before she could even think about what had just happened.

The subway ride felt long and surreal. Clarke plugged in her headphones, hit play on the message again, and let the song wash over her once more. She closed her eyes, leaning against the subway car as Lexa’s voice filled her ears again. She couldn’t stop the smile that crept across her face, even though her heart was beating a little faster than usual. It was impossible for her to understand how someone could write something so beautiful about her, let alone send it in such a vulnerable way. How had they gotten here? The whole situation was confusing, and yet, in a strange way, it felt like something was pulling them together.

When Clarke arrived at the gallery, the nerves that had been clawing at her since early that morning began to settle. Everything was in place. The paintings hung perfectly, the lighting cast gentle shadows across the room, and the atmosphere felt just right. She snapped a quick selfie in the middle of the exhibition, looking around at the beautiful space, before sending the picture and a text to Lexa.

"Thank you so much for the song. It was truly beautiful. I’m ready for my first big art exhibition tomorrow."

She stared at the message for a moment, heart still racing, before she hit send. As the phone buzzed in her hand, Clarke couldn’t help but feel like something was beginning to shift. Maybe this was the beginning of something bigger, something she wasn’t quite ready for but couldn’t ignore. The connection was undeniable, and even if she didn’t fully understand it yet, she knew she couldn’t walk away from it.

Lexa was on her way to a meeting with Anya. They were supposed to select a candidate for her PR relationship and then set up the first meeting to draft the contract. As she was walking toward Anya's office, a message popped up on her phone. It was a selfie from Clarke, and Clarke looked incredible. Lexa froze, staring at the picture of her. Lexa stood in the doorway to Anya's office, her hand on the door handle looking at the picture. The shot was natural, a candid moment of Clarke smiling with her art in the background. The sheer warmth of Clarke’s expression made Lexa pause. Clarke looked so effortlessly beautiful, and Lexa couldn’t help but smile at the picture.

"Anything exciting?" Anya asked from behind her desk, noticing Lexa's stillness. Anya’s voice cut through the moment. Her eyes narrowing slightly as she observed Lexa’s hesitation.

Lexa hesitated. Technically, she hadn’t told Anya that she was still in contact with Clarke, but she wasn’t used to keeping secrets from her. “I gave Clarke my number, and we’ve been texting a little,” Lexa finally said as she closed the door behind her.

Anya didn’t react immediately, but her gaze shifted from her laptop to Lexa, her expression unreadable. "Should I prepare a new NDA?" she asked, her voice matter-of-fact.

Lexa sat down in the chair across from Anya’s desk, shaking her head. “Clarke still doesn’t know who I am. We’re just talking for now, but one day… definitely,” Lexa said, her voice trailing off. Her tone lighter than she felt. She knew full well that the 'one day' was a constant in her mind. It was just a matter of when—not if.

Anya looked at her for a long moment, her eyes studying Lexa. Finally, she gave a slow nod. "Just be careful. You don’t want this to become a liability."

Lexa’s gaze drifted back to Clarke’s message. "She has a big art exhibition tomorrow. Do we know anyone in New York who can go there and buy a painting for me?" Lexa asked, her voice a little softer, almost like she was trying to keep her emotions in check. It was the selfie, the way Clarke’s eyes sparkled in the picture, that tugged at Lexa’s heart. She couldn’t help herself. She was falling for Clarke, despite all the reasons she shouldn’t.

Anya observed her, her expression unreadable, before responding, “I can arrange that, if you want.”

Lexa nodded, smiling a little. “I just want something of hers… And to support her.” she added quietly, her voice slipping into something softer, more vulnerable.

Anya raised an eyebrow, her tone more serious. “Alex, is this for real? Is this more than just a passing crush?”

Lexa felt Anya’s eyes on her, watching her carefully. She could sense the scrutiny. “Yeah, I think it might be. I miss her. She makes me feel… things,” Lexa admitted, her words hesitant but genuine.

Anya leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I’ll send someone to the exhibition,” Anya said, her voice low. "But we should invite her to Los Angeles soon. Get her to sign an NDA, get everything formalized before you get too far. And you need to move quickly with the PR relationship. It’s more important than ever now.”

Lexa nodded, knowing that Anya was right. This could spiral into something bigger if she wasn’t careful. But there was something about Clarke that made Lexa willing to take the risk.

Anya slid a photo across the desk. It was of a tall, muscular man with light hair and piercing blue eyes. This is Bjorn Lothbrok. He’s a Scandinavian actor, currently playing a role in Bad Boys for Life. He’s a solid choice for your PR. He paints too” Anya explained.

Lexa picked up the photo and glanced at it before shrugging. “Yeah, okay.” The man looked like every other straight actor she’d seen, not particularly interesting to her.

“He lives on the other side of the world privately, and right now, he’s working in Canada, so you won’t have to see him that often. You’ll be busy with your own film shoots too. What do you think?”

Lexa studied the photo for a moment before nodding. “He’s fine.”

Anya’s lips quirked in a slight smile. "I know you’re not thrilled, but he’s a perfect fit. He’ll be in Los Angeles for a while. We can set something up for later today or tomorrow. "

Lexa pushed the photo of the blonde man back across the desk toward Anya. “Later today is fine. Let’s get it over with.”

Lexa rubbed her temples, suddenly feeling the weight of it all. She wanted to focus on one thing. One person. But it was impossible to ignore everything pulling at her from all sides. It was all tangled up in her mind

Lexa turned her attention back to her phone, the message from Clarke still there, waiting to be replied to. A knot formed in her stomach as she thought of how she would respond. It was clear now—Clarke wasn’t just someone Lexa admired from afar. No, Clarke had become something much more significant in Lexa’s life.

She had to tread carefully, but for the first time in a long time, Lexa wasn’t sure she wanted to.

Chapter Text

Clarke was on her way home from her exhibition, tired but satisfied with how everything had gone. Her first big show was tomorrow, and now she just needed some rest. She had so much on her mind, especially the message from Lexa that had kept her heart racing all day.

As she sat in the subway, the hum of the train blended with her thoughts. She read Lexa’s message again, her fingers hovering over the screen.

“I know we agreed not to meet in person and we've only been talking for a few weeks, but I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m about to start a big project, and I won’t be able to see you for the next few months. I hope we can meet before then. Maybe you could visit me once your exhibition is over?”

Clarke couldn’t help but feel conflicted. She was overwhelmed. It had been such a short time since they started talking, and now Lexa was asking her to visit, something they hadn’t planned. Clarke was still trying to process her own feelings and had very little time, and even less money, to be traveling across the country. But something about Lexa’s words made her heart flutter.

Her roommates, Octavia and Raven, had started teasing her about Lexa, picking up on the way Clarke’s mood shifted whenever Lexa’s name came up. But the truth was, Clarke hadn’t expected this. She hadn’t planned on feeling anything this quickly, but she couldn’t deny it: Lexa was starting to mean something to her.

Clarke barely noticed the stops as she moved through the subway, consumed by her phone screen. When she finally stepped off and walked towards her apartment, she was still thinking about what to say. She hardly registered the familiar creak of the door as she opened it, bumping into Raven, who had been standing just inside.

“Have you been wandering around in traffic like that?” Raven asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she took in Clarke’s distracted state.

Clarke snapped her head up, startled, her gaze meeting Raven’s. “What?”

Raven shook her head, a grin spreading across her face. “It’s a miracle you didn’t get run over.”

Clarke blinked, still lost in her thoughts, and replied absently, “Are you heading out?”

“Yeah, just going to grab some milk,” Raven said, with a nonchalant shrug. She was always the one to make quick trips for random things.

Clarke couldn’t keep it in any longer, the weight of the message pressing on her. “Lexa asked if I wanted to visit her in Los Angeles.”

Raven’s eyes widened, and she took a step back, the milk run temporarily forgotten. “Wait, seriously?”

Clarke nodded, unsure if she should do it. “Yeah.”

Raven looked at her, considering, and then grinned wide. “You should totally do it. After your exhibition, of course.”

Clarke let out a small sigh, the weight of the situation settling in. “I really can’t afford it. You know that.”

Raven raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Please. She’s rich and famous. You don’t think she’ll pay for it?”

Clarke laughed softly, though her mind was racing. “Maybe. But I’m not sure that’s what she meant. It doesn’t seem like she’s offering. I don’t want to take advantage of her. I don’t want to make this about money.”

Raven rolled her eyes, exasperated but with a hint of affection. “Just be honest. Tell her you can’t afford it. She’ll understand. You’re both adults. If she cares, she’ll figure it out. But don't let this chance slip away just because you’re worried about what she’ll think. If you want to see her, go. You deserve this.”

Clarke paused, the words sinking in. She wanted to see Lexa, no doubt about it. She felt this strange pull, this connection, even from afar. But the thought of putting herself in a vulnerable position was overwhelming.

“But what if it’s too much?” Clarke mumbled, staring at the screen again. “What if I’m just another person in her world? Someone she’s casually interested in?”

“Clarke, you’ll never know if you don’t try,” Raven said firmly, walking closer and resting a hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “You deserve to take that chance. Don’t overthink it.”

Clarke sighed, feeling the internal battle continue. She stared at the message again, at the thought of Lexa wanting her there, and her heart ached with the desire to be closer. But the fear of rejection, of being seen as a burden, crept in.

“Okay,” Clarke said after a beat, her voice a mix of resolve and uncertainty. “I’ll tell her. I’ll be honest with her, just like you said.”

Raven smiled and gave her a quick hug. “That’s the spirit. Go for it, Clarke.”

Clarke looked back down at her phone, finally typing out her reply to Lexa.

“Lexa, I would love to come and see you, but I have to be honest—I’m not sure I can afford the trip right now. I would love to meet you, but I have to be responsible with my finances. I hope you understand.”

She hesitated for a moment, then hit send.

Raven watched her with a knowing look, giving Clarke space as she waited for a response. Clarke sat back, heart in her throat, wondering what Lexa would say.

Lexa sat in the conference room at Anya’s office, her hands resting idly on the table as she scrolled through the script for her upcoming film. Across from her, Anya was tapping her fingers against the polished surface of the table, her impatience growing with every passing moment. Bjorn and his manager were late. Technically, only by a few minutes, but Anya didn’t tolerate delays lightly.

A knock at the door broke the tense silence.

“Come in,” Anya called, her tone clipped but professional.

The door opened, revealing a bald man in a tailored suit who introduced himself with a curt nod. “Titus,” he said, extending a hand toward Anya. Behind him entered a tall, muscular man with blonde hair and an easy smile that immediately made Lexa think of an action hero come to life.

Anya introduced herself with a firm handshake. “Anya,” she said, her voice measured.

Lexa rose gracefully from her chair, extending a hand to Titus. “Alexandra,” she said, giving him a polite smile that was met with a slightly strained one in return.

Then she turned to Bjorn, offering him the same formal handshake. “And you must be Bjorn,” she said.

“It’s actually pronounced ‘Bjørn,’” he corrected, his accent lilting slightly on the unfamiliar vowels.

Lexa’s polite smile faltered, if only for a moment, as the correction settled between them in an awkward pause. “Of course,” she said, recovering quickly. “As your girlfriend, I should probably get it right. Maybe you could send me a recording of the proper pronunciation, and I’ll practice.”

Bjorn’s smile returned, this time with a hint of warmth. “I can do that.”

“Enough chit-chat,” Titus interjected, moving briskly to the table and sitting down without waiting for an invitation. His abruptness was met with a sharp glance from Anya, but both women followed suit, taking their seats across from him and Bjorn.

Titus wasted no time laying out his agenda. “Bjorn’s film Bad Boys for Life is premiering soon. Since this arrangement is for mutual publicity, it’s crucial that you both attend the event together.”

Anya nodded, jotting down a note on her tablet. Bjorn gave Lexa another polite smile, though she could sense a certain unease behind it.

Titus continued, pulling out a calendar. “Ideally, the relationship should appear well-established by then. A public date tomorrow or the day after will set the timeline perfectly.”

“I agree,” Anya said smoothly, her tone professional but unyielding.

Titus seemed surprised by the lack of pushback but pressed on. “Given the nature of this longer-term contract, Bjorn should frequently accompany Alexandra to awards shows and other high-profile events where she would normally be invited.”

Anya leaned back slightly, her gaze sharp as she studied Titus. “So, part of your plan is to leverage Alexandra’s invitations for Bjorn’s networking opportunities?”

Titus didn’t flinch, but his smile thinned. “Bjorn needs to maximize the value of this partnership. Any chance for him to connect with industry insiders at events Alexandra attends should be utilized.”

Anya’s lips curved into a tight smile. “Let’s not forget this partnership goes both ways. Both parties should benefit equally.”

Titus squared his shoulders. “If you’re willing to share what Alexandra gains from this, we’d be happy to discuss. Frankly, I can’t see why Alexandra Woods would need a PR relationship like this.”

Anya cast a brief glance at Lexa before replying smoothly. “That’s our business. Rest assured, Alexandra will benefit. However, all major events Alexandra attends will include Bjorn as her plus-one.”

Titus gave a curt nod, his tone softening slightly. “I suggest Alexandra and Bjorn have dinner tomorrow night. We’ll tip the paparazzi, and the story can start circulating.”

“Let’s get this project moving,” Anya agreed, her voice crisp. “I’ll finalize the details in the contract, and we can sign it before you leave.”

Lexa leaned back in her chair, her fingers brushing over the edge of her phone as Titus and Anya debated finer points of logistics. Despite the rehearsed professionalism of the meeting, Lexa couldn’t help but feel a quiet dread settle over her. The arrangement felt more clinical than ever, but for now, she would play the part.

Lexa and Bjorn had just signed the contract, exchanged a few polite words, and said their goodbyes. Once Bjorn and Titus left, the room grew quiet except for the faint tapping of Anya’s keyboard as she worked on Lexa’s event calendar. Lexa sat back in her chair, absently scrolling through her phone. A message popped up, catching her attention. It was from Clarke.

"Lexa, I would love to come and see you, but I have to be honest—I’m not sure I can afford the trip right now. I would love to meet you, but I have to be responsible with my finances. I hope you understand.”

Lexa stared at the message for a moment, her lips pressing into a thoughtful line. “Clarke says she can’t afford to travel right now,” she said aloud.

Anya glanced up, arching a brow. “I assumed you’d pay.”

Lexa looked at her, slightly startled. “Yeah, I assumed that too.”

“Then call her and tell her,” Anya replied, as if it were the most obvious solution in the world.

“Right now?” Lexa asked, glancing uncertainly at her phone.

“Yes, now,” Anya insisted, nodding toward the open calendar on her screen. “Let’s get this scheduled while I have everything up.”

Taking a deep breath, Lexa tapped Clarke’s name and called her. The phone rang only a couple of times before Clarke answered.

“Hi, Lexa,” Clarke said, her voice warm and familiar.

“Hi,” Lexa replied, a small smile creeping into her voice. “It’s so nice to hear your voice.”

“You too. It’s always great hearing from you,” Clarke replied, the background noise of muffled conversations suggesting she wasn’t alone. Lexa guessed it was Clarke’s roommates, Octavia and Raven, who she’d heard so much about.

“I just wanted to say,” Lexa began, choosing her words carefully, “that of course I’ll cover the trip if you want to visit me. You don’t have to worry about money at all.”

Anya gave Lexa an encouraging and professional smile hinting at her approval.

“Are you sure?” Clarke asked, her voice laced with a mix of relief and hesitation. “I’d love to visit, but…”

“Of course, I’m sure,” Lexa interrupted gently. “Just tell me when, and we’ll make it work.”

“Well,” Clarke began, a trace of shuffling noises suggesting she was looking for a calendar. “My exhibition opens tomorrow, and I need to be here for at least this week, maybe the next, to network in case any major art collectors or critics show up.”

Lexa glanced over at Anya’s screen, noting the block of red that marked her upcoming commitments. “I understand,” she said.

“How about early next month?” Clarke asked

“I’m sorry I’m away next month,” Lexa replied, a touch of disappointment in her voice.

“I’ll be working on a big project and won’t be free for a while.” Lexa said, grimacing at her tightly packed schedule.

Clarke was quiet for a moment, then asked, “What about the last week of this month?”

Lexa glanced back at Anya’s calendar, which was packed but technically feasible. Before she could respond, Anya scribbled a note on a pad and slid it toward her: Invite her friends too. Make it a vacation.

Lexa smiled and said, “I will be busy a lot but what if you bring Octavia and Raven? I could rent a beach house for all of you, and we could meet whenever I’m free.”

“Really? They’d love that,” Clarke said, excitement bubbling in her voice.

Anya scribbled another note: NDA.

“You’d all need to sign an NDA, of course,” Lexa added.

“Of course,” Clarke replied, her smile audible.

“They’d need to anyway, if you’d be sharing my identity with them,” said Lexa.

“Of course,” Clarke replied.

“Exactly. But yes, I mean it. Bring them along,” Lexa assured her.

“I’ll ask them right now!” Clarke said eagerly.

In the background, Lexa could hear Clarke relaying the news to her roommates, followed by shouts of joy and the distinct sound of people jumping up and down. A moment later, Clarke returned to the call, slightly breathless.

“Lexa, we’re all so excited! Thank you so much. We can’t wait!”

Lexa chuckled softly. “I’m glad. My manager will send you all the travel details. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon,” Clarke said warmly before hanging up.

As Lexa set her phone down, Anya smirked. “Look at you, Miss Generosity.”

Lexa shrugged, but a small smile lingered on her lips. “It’s worth it.”

Clarke stood in the backroom of her art exhibit, her nerves taut as a wire. Everything was in place, and the doors were set to open in just half an hour. She sipped a glass of cold water slowly, trying to calm herself. This was the moment she had worked for ever since telling her mother that she wouldn’t pursue a career in medicine after all.

Her relationship with her mother had always been close, but medicine was her mother’s entire life. It had been hard for her to understand Clarke’s decision to follow a different path, and that had created a rift between them that Clarke still didn’t know how to mend.

The door to the backroom creaked open, and Octavia peeked her head inside. “So, this is where you’re hiding. Come on, Clarke, get out there and enjoy it. You’ve done everything you can.”

Clarke nodded and took a deep breath, setting the glass down. “You’re right. It’s time.”

Before she knew it, the room was bustling with people dressed in elegant attire, moving through the space and studying her artwork. Clarke stood at the edge of the room, observing the mix of familiar faces and strangers. Her heart skipped a beat when her eyes swept across the crowd and didn’t spot any major art figures yet.

“Hey, Clarke,” a familiar voice said behind her.

Turning, she saw two old friends, Jasper and Monty.

“Guys! What are you doing here?” Clarke exclaimed, hugging them both.

“We’re here to support you, obviously,” Monty replied with a smile.

Clarke was about to thank them when her gaze caught sight of someone entering through the front doors. Her breath hitched.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, her voice tight with excitement.

“What’s wrong?” Monty asked, craning his neck to see what had caught her attention.

“Don’t look!” Clarke hissed, trying to stop him from staring. “That’s Luna Wagner.”

“Should we know who that is?” Jasper asked, his tone casual.

“She’s one of New York’s biggest art collectors. A really important contact. I need to talk to her,” Clarke said, her voice a mix of awe and nerves. She wiped her sweaty hands on her dress, took a deep breath, and summoned her courage.

As Clarke approached, Luna noticed her and offered a polite smile. “You must be the artist.”

“Yes,” Clarke said, extending her hand. “I’m Clarke Griffin.”

“Luna Wagner,” Luna said, shaking Clarke’s hand. “I got a tip about your exhibit and decided to stop by. I’m glad I did.”

“I’m so glad to hear that,” Clarke said, barely able to keep the tremor out of her voice.

Luna’s gaze swept over the room before landing back on Clarke. “You’ve got something special here, and I don’t say that often to people I’ve just met. Tell me, which piece is your favorite?”

Clarke hesitated, glancing around at her paintings. Finally, she pointed to one depicting Earth as seen through a spaceship window, with the shadow of a figure in the corner. “That one. I call it The Artist’s Window.”

“Interesting choice,” Luna mused, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

“Thank you,” Clarke said, her smile polite but genuine.

Luna reached into her bag and handed Clarke a business card. “I’ll take a closer look at the rest of your work, but do let me know when you have your next exhibit.”

Clarke accepted the card with trembling fingers. “I will. Thank you so much.”

Luna gave a curt nod and continued through the exhibit. Clarke remained rooted in place for a moment, her thoughts racing, before another guest approached her to ask about her work.

She did her best to stay engaged, though her attention was split as she watched Luna stop by Murphy, the gallery owner, who appeared to be deep in conversation with her. Then, just as suddenly as she had arrived, Luna exited the exhibit. Clarke noticed Murphy stepping up to one of the paintings—the one Clarke had pointed out—and placing a small red sticker beside it.

Heart racing, Clarke excused herself from the guest and hurried over. “Murphy, did she buy it?”

Murphy gave her a quizzical look. “You can see the sticker, can’t you?”

“I sold something?” Clarke asked, barely able to contain her excitement.

Murphy rolled his eyes. “That’s the point of a gallery exhibit, isn’t it?”

Clarke didn’t bother trying to explain the magnitude of this moment to him. Instead, she nearly ran to where Octavia and Raven were standing.

“I sold something!” Clarke burst out as she reached them.

“Seriously?!” Raven asked, her eyes wide with excitement.

Clarke nodded, beaming.

“Congratulations!” Octavia said, pulling her into a tight hug.

“Thank you,” Clarke said, trying to keep her composure. She couldn’t let herself lose it here—not with so many important eyes still on her. But later, when the night was over, she’d allow herself to celebrate properly.

Lexa was finishing up her preparations for her first date with Bjorn. True to her word, she had practiced the pronunciation of his name using the audio recording he had sent, but the elusive Danish "Ø" sound still gave her trouble.

The hairstylist was adding the final touches, arranging Lexa’s hair into a sleek, elegant style that paired perfectly with the outfit her stylist had chosen. She glanced at the dress and jewelry laid out on the vanity, feeling a strange detachment. It felt more like preparing for one of the countless superficial events she was obligated to attend than getting ready for a casual dinner date with her boyfriend.

As Lexa checked her reflection one last time, Anya entered the room.

“Is he here?” Lexa asked, her voice tinged with nerves.

“Not yet,” Anya replied, holding up her phone with a sly smile. “I actually came to tell you that Clarke’s painting has been purchased. For you.”

Lexa blinked in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes,” Anya confirmed. “I asked an old friend, Luna, to check out Clarke’s exhibit. She said the work was excellent. The painting is already being shipped to Los Angeles.”

“Thank you so much, Anya,” Lexa said earnestly.

“It’s nothing, Alex,” Anya replied with a teasing grin.

Just then, the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house.

“That must be your date. Have a great evening,” Anya said, giving Lexa a quick nod before stepping out of the room.

Lexa took a deep breath, straightened her dress, and walked downstairs. When she opened the door, there stood Bjorn, looking dapper yet relaxed. His warm smile immediately helped calm the nerves that had been bubbling inside her all evening.

“Hi,” Lexa said, smiling back at him.

“Hi,” Bjorn replied, offering her a small bouquet of flowers. “You look stunning.”

“Thank you,” Lexa said, accepting the flowers and stepping aside to let him in. “You’re right on time.”

Bjorn chuckled. “Punctuality is important when you’re dating someone as busy as you.”

Lexa laughed softly, leading him into the living room. “Let me just put these in some water, and then we can head out.”

As she placed the flowers in a vase, Lexa felt a rare sense of ease creeping in.

Clarke wandered around their shared apartment, chatting excitedly about how Luna Wagner had shown up at the exhibition like a superhero and bought a painting thanks to a tip. "She came because of a tip! A tip! Who would’ve given her a tip?" Octavia smiled and nodded at the right moments, but she was more focused on her laptop. Raven didn't participate at all, instead lying on the couch watching TV. A bubbly blonde gossip reporter appeared on the screen, loudly discussing the latest hot couple who had been spotted having dinner together.

"Alexandra Woods was spotted with none other than the hot new star Bjorn Lothbrok. Yum! Yum! Am I right, ladies? This got us thinking about Alexandra’s many loves, and loves lost. So we’re going to give you the complete guide to Alexandra’s full dating history!"

"What are you watching?" Clarke asked, glancing at the blonde reporter.

"I'm trying to spot your girlfriend," Raven replied.

"You can’t even remember meeting her," Octavia said without looking up from her computer.

"Maybe a picture will jog my memory," Raven said.

"Can you not? Those kinds of 'news' are too invasive of their private lives," Clarke remarked, still not looking at the TV.

Reluctantly, Raven turned off the TV.

"Plus, whoever they were talking about had a straight dating history longer than my ex's. I doubt it was Lexa," Clarke added casually.

Raven paused for a moment, staring at the turned-off TV, when Octavia said, "Raven, come help me pick out a new bikini instead."

Raven stood up and walked over to Octavia and her computer.

"What?" Clarke asked, surprised.

"I want to look good when I’m lounging on California’s beaches," Octavia said.

"Yeah, me too," Raven added, peering over Octavia’s shoulder as she browsed bikinis.

"Come on, Clarke. You should show off what you've got when you’re trying to impress Lexa," Raven teased.

Clarke shook her head in a mix of exasperation and amusement.

Lexa and Bjorn stood at Lexa’s front door; the evening air cool around them. She leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, a gesture that almost felt forced, even though her hand lingering on his arm just a little too long. He looked at her with a smile that was wide and eager, his gaze lingering like he had just been handed the sun and the stars and it made Lexa feel like she was caught in something far too complicated for her to fully understand. She had convinced herself that this was part of the deal, that she was playing the part she had to play. They had to make the paparazzi believe it, after all.

“Goodnight,” she said softly, more out of obligation than anything else, watching as Bjorn walked down the path toward his car, his footsteps echoing lightly on the pavement. She lingered at the door for just a moment longer than necessary before closing it, locking herself away from the world outside.

The house was dark, eerily so. Gustus, her bodyguard, was somewhere out there, watching the perimeter like he always did, giving her the space, she craved. She didn’t mind the solitude; it was a comfort, a moment to breathe without having to pretend for anyone else. But as she stood there, the silence pressed down on her, more suffocating than soothing.

She didn’t bother to turn on the lights. The house felt different in the dark, somehow lonelier. She walked through the dark hallways, each step echoing softly in the emptiness. The evening had stretched longer than she anticipated, partly because of the paparazzi who had made their presence known, forcing them to put on a little more of a show than planned. Even after dinner, they’d walked around the city for a while, hand in hand, smiling for the cameras. But now that she was alone, the excitement of the charade had worn off, and Lexa found herself feeling worn out and restless.

Now, standing in the quiet, Lexa felt the weight of her loneliness. The thought of calling Clarke, of sharing her night, made her heart ache with something too raw to articulate. She longed to share the evening with someone real, to tell Clarke everything. But she couldn’t. Not yet. Not until the NDA was signed. The whole situation felt like a game, a dangerous game, with too much at stake for any mistakes to be made. The fake relationship was fragile; if it leaked, the consequences could be more than either of them were ready for. And so, even though she knew Clarke was probably still awake in New York, texting, scrolling through her phone, Lexa chose to put her phone away. She couldn’t risk it.

Instead, she reached for her guitar, the one thing that always grounded her in the stillness of the night. The guitar was her outlet, the only place where she could be truly herself without the weight of the world pressing down on her.

She strummed a few chords, letting the music flow from her fingers as she settled into the quiet, her mind drifting to thoughts of Clarke. It was strange, how much she missed her, even though they had barely met. They had shared a handful of moments, but the connection was undeniable. Clarke had a way of making Lexa feel like she was more than just her public persona, more than the carefully crafted image she had to uphold.

The song came to her easily, almost without thinking. She sang softly, her voice barely above a whisper in the darkened room.

“I bet this time of night you’re still up.
I bet, you’re tired from a long hard week.
I bet you’re sitting in your chair by the window.
Looking out at the city.
And I bet sometimes you wonder about me.”

Lexa paused, her fingers stilling on the strings. She imagined Clarke in her apartment in New York, the soft glow of the city lights filtering through her window, maybe thinking about her, too. Maybe wondering what it would be like to have something real with Lexa, something outside of the fake world that Lexa was stuck in.

She closed her eyes, the ache in her chest growing stronger. It was ridiculous, this connection she felt, given the circumstances. She barely knew Clarke, and yet she couldn’t stop thinking about her. She had spent so much time pushing her feelings aside, telling herself this was just part of the game. But with each passing day, each moment spent pretending, it was harder to ignore what she really wanted.

“And I just wanna tell you.
It takes everything in me not to call you.
And I hope you know that every time I don’t,
I almost do.
I almost do.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Lexa couldn’t breathe. It was a confession she wasn’t ready to make, a vulnerability she wasn’t ready to admit. She hated how easily it came to her, how the song seemed to capture everything she felt for Clarke. She wasn’t supposed to feel this way. She wasn’t supposed to want anything real when everything around her was a lie.

But it was too late. The connection was there, undeniable and overwhelming. She wanted Clarke, even if she knew that they couldn’t be together, not in the way she wanted. Not yet, not until everything settled, until the charade was over.

Lexa set the guitar down gently, her heart heavy with the weight of the emotions she couldn’t express. It was late, too late to call Clarke now. She had to keep playing the part anyway, keep up the illusion, for now. But as she sat there, in the dark, her thoughts full of Clarke, she couldn’t help but wonder if one day, she would get the chance to make this real.

Chapter Text

The atmosphere in Clarke's apartment was lively as they packed for their trip to Los Angeles. Music was playing, and they took turns guessing whether the artist they were listening to might be Lexa, as Clarke had become convinced that Lexa was a singer. Every now and then, they paused to analyze the lyrics or the voice, trying to find clues that could confirm the newest theory.

“I’m telling you, this could totally be her,” Clarke said, nodding to the beat as a soulful melody and lyric filled the room.

“I don’t want it,
And I don’t want to want you.
But in my dreams I seem to be more honest.
And I must admit, you’ve been in quite a few.

Halley’s Comet
Comes around more than I do.
But you’re all it takes for me to break a promise
Silly me to fall in love with you.”

Octavia chuckled, tossing a pair of shorts into her suitcase. “You’ve said that about the last three artists.”

“But this one could really be! She has that mysterious vibe, doesn’t she? And listen to those lyrics, they’re so… profound.”

Raven, lying on the couch with her arms stretched behind her head, smirked. “Profound, huh? I think you’re just hoping she’s serenading you.”

Clarke rolled her eyes but laughed along. “Maybe I am. But you have to admit, it’s fun to guess.”

They were leaving the next morning, and Lexa had told Clarke that all she had to do was give her name at the airport ticket counter. Clarke had no idea that being so VIP in an airport was even possible. Lexa had also asked if they needed a ride to the airport, but Clarke insisted they could handle that part of the trip themselves. So, Octavia had convinced her brother to drive them.

“I’ve never been to that side of the country before,” Raven said, sitting up and stretching.

“Never, ever?” Clarke asked, surprised.

“Never, ever,” Raven confirmed with a shrug. “I’m more of an East Coast girl, you know? New York’s chaos is my comfort zone.”

“I only been once as a child,” Octavia added, folding a shirt and placing it neatly in her suitcase.

Clarke grinned, lifting her glass. “Then cheers to me for bringing you along,” she said, raising one of the spontaneous drinks they had made during their packing party. The others lifted their glasses as well, clinking them together with laughter.

“To new adventures,” Octavia toasted.

“And to Lexa, for making it possible,” Raven added with a wink in Clarke's direction.

Clarke blushed slightly but smiled. “To Lexa.”

They took a sip, the excitement palpable in the room. The trip felt like the beginning of something special, a rare opportunity to explore and unwind together. As they continued to pack, the conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on everything from what they would do once they arrived in Los Angeles to how they imagined Lexa's home would be.

“I bet she lives in one of those minimalist mansions, with huge glass windows and an infinity pool,” Octavia mused.

“Totally,” Raven agreed. “And maybe a studio where she works on her music—or whatever mysterious art she’s into.”

Clarke listened, her heart fluttering at the thought of seeing Lexa again. Despite the uncertainty surrounding their relationship, there was something undeniably thrilling about it all. She couldn't wait to see how everything would unfold.

Lexa sat hunched over her desk, staring at her schedule for the week. Clarke was arriving tomorrow, and while she was excited, she struggled to figure out how they would find proper time to see each other. The following week marked the beginning of filming for her new movie, and there was still so much to be done before then. It was an action film, so every day began with an intensive training routine. Each day also included stunt training or scene rehearsals. On top of that, she had a live talk show interview, at least one date with Bjorn, and the premiere of Bad Boys for Life to attend.

With a sigh, Lexa rested her head in her hands. The excitement of seeing Clarke was overshadowed by the overwhelming list of commitments. She had been looking forward to spending time with Clarke, but now the sheer magnitude of her responsibilities loomed over her like a dark cloud. Balancing her career with her personal life had always been a challenge, but this week felt particularly impossible.

Her phone buzzed, breaking her train of thought. It was a text from Bjorn, reminding her of their planned outing later in the week. She frowned slightly, feeling the weight of the charade they had to maintain. Lexa had never imagined that a fake relationship could feel so consuming.

Pushing the phone aside, she refocused on her schedule, trying to see where she could squeeze in a moment of peace with Clarke. But the blocks of time seemed unyielding, each more essential than the last. She desperately needed a break, a sliver of time to just be herself, without the constant demands of her public persona.

"Maybe we can steal a few hours here and there," she whispered to herself, flipping through her planner. "Late at night, or early in the morning... something."

But even as she said it, Lexa knew how hard it would be to carve out those moments. Clarke deserved more than stolen minutes and hurried conversations. Lexa felt a pang of guilt, knowing she had promised Clarke this trip would be a chance to connect.

She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to imagine Clarke's arrival. The thought of seeing Clarke's smile, hearing her laugh, and just being in her presence gave Lexa a brief respite from her anxiety.

"I'll make it work," Lexa muttered, determination hardening her resolve. "I have to."

Clarke woke up early, even though she was still exhausted from the packing party the night before. Already dressed, she had managed to rouse the other two when the doorbell rang. Clarke opened the door and greeted, "Hey Bellamy. You’re early."

Bellamy looked surprised to see Clarke ready. "I thought you’d all sleep in after the pictures I got last night," he said with a grin.

Clarke welcomed him inside and replied, "I couldn’t sleep any longer."

Bellamy chuckled, "Someone’s excited for a little vacation. I still don’t get how you can afford this. A few weeks ago, you barely had enough for pizza. Did you really sell that many paintings?"

Clarke shrugged, uncertain about how much to reveal, and answered, "An opportunity came up, and we took it."

Bellamy laughed, "I would’ve done the same."

Octavia emerged from her room, still in her pajamas. "Hey, big brother. I thought I heard your voice."

"Hey. Get dressed. We don’t have all day," Bellamy replied.

Soon enough, Clarke, Raven, and Octavia were squeezed together, surrounded by their luggage, in Bellamy’s small car, heading to the airport. The cramped quarters didn’t dampen their spirits. They chatted and laughed, the excitement of the trip buzzing between them.

"Have you ever been to Los Angeles, Bell?" Raven asked, glancing at him in the rearview mirror.

"Once, a long time ago," he said. "But I was there for work, not fun. You guys are going to love it. Beaches, sunshine, and who knows, maybe you’ll bump into some celebrities."

Octavia smirked, "That’s the plan, right?"

Clarke rolled her eyes but smiled, keeping the real details to herself. The thought of seeing Lexa again filled her with anticipation, but she knew she had to play it cool for now.

As they approached the airport, Bellamy gave them a quick pep talk. "Alright, you’ve got everything? Tickets? IDs? Don’t forget to take a million pictures, especially of the stuff you’re not supposed to," he joked.

Bellamy parked outside the airport and helped the girls unload their bags from the car.

"Thanks for the ride, Bell," Clarke said.

He looked at them and asked, "Are you sure you don’t want me to come in and say goodbye?"

"We're sure," Octavia said quickly.

"We’ll just say goodbye here," Clarke added, giving Bellamy a hug.

Bellamy held the hug a moment longer than a typical friendly embrace, prompting Octavia and Raven to exchange a quick, knowing glance.

"Have a blast, guys. And Clarke, text me when you land, okay?" Bellamy said

"Will do," Clarke promised, before they headed inside, ready to embark on their West Coast adventure.

They turned to head into the airport.

"Take care, guys, " Bellamy called after them, watching as they walked away, the bustling crowd of the airport swallowing them up.

As they entered the airport, Clarke hesitated briefly before cautiously approaching the ticket counter. The woman behind the desk gave her a tired smile, her eyes appearing unfocused. Clarke cleared her throat and said, "I was told to just give my name. Clarke Griffin."

Raven and Octavia stood anxiously behind her, waiting to see what would happen. Suddenly, the woman’s eyes sharpened as if a different protocol had been activated in her brain. She tapped a few keys discreetly and replied, "Of course, Miss Griffin. Just a moment."

Shortly after, a man in a sharp suit appeared, followed by two young employees pushing a luggage cart. "Miss Griffin, we're delighted to have you flying with us today. If you'll allow my colleagues to handle your luggage, please follow me," the man said smoothly.

Clarke, Raven, and Octavia left their bags for the staff, who immediately began loading them onto the cart. The man in the suit led them away from the crowded terminal, down a private corridor, and into a luxurious lounge that resembled an upscale restaurant, devoid of other people.

As they entered, a waiter appeared with perfect timing. "It will be just a moment before we are ready for you. Please feel free to order anything you like while you wait," the suited man said before turning to leave.

The waiter guided them to a table and handed them menus. Clarke hesitated, but Raven and Octavia quickly persuaded her that it wouldn’t hurt to order a drink and some appetizers. The waiter returned swiftly with their selections, and the three of them relaxed slightly, marveling at the VIP treatment they were receiving.

They had barely finished their appetizers when the man in the suit returned, announcing, "Your flight is ready. This way, please." He led Clarke, Raven, and Octavia down another private corridor, which opened into what was unmistakably a private jet.

"Holy shit," Raven muttered under her breath as the reality of their luxurious mode of travel dawned on them.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable and enjoy the flight. It has been an honor to assist you," the suited man said before exiting the plane.

Inside the jet, a single stewardess stood waiting, her posture poised and professional. She closed the door behind them as they settled into the plush leather seats. A voice crackled over the intercom, "Welcome aboard, Miss Griffin, Miss Blake, and Miss Reyes. I'm your pilot today, Thomas. The weather is perfect for flying, so we should have a smooth journey across the country. We have approximately 5-6 hours together, so feel free to explore our selection of movies, games, and music. We also offer a variety of snacks, beverages, and meals. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask your stewardess, Ava."

"This is insane," Raven said, fastening her seatbelt, her eyes wide with amazement.

"Yeah, we definitely need to thank Lexa," Octavia added, echoing the sentiment.

Clarke nodded, barely able to find her voice. The sheer scale of Lexa’s influence was becoming increasingly evident, leaving her momentarily speechless at the thought of how much she had underestimated the star.

About halfway through the flight, Clarke and her friends were in the middle of a lively board game. They had just finished a delicious lunch, and the plane was now filled with music and laughter. The game they had chosen required four players, so they had successfully convinced Ava, the stewardess, to join them. The table was scattered with drinks and snacks, adding to the festive atmosphere.

Raven was leaning back, grinning as she rolled the dice. "I can't believe we got Ava to play. This makes it so much more fun!"

Ava laughed, "Well, it’s not every day I get to be part of the in-flight entertainment. You three are quite the team."

Octavia moved her game piece, her competitive streak shining through. "We have to win this round. Clarke, focus!"

Clarke smiled, feeling more relaxed than she had in weeks. "I’m trying! Don’t put so much pressure on me."

The camaraderie was infectious, and the plane felt more like a cozy living room than a high-altitude jet. Ava passed around another round of drinks, keeping the mood light and the laughter constant.

"This is definitely the most fun I’ve had on a flight," Clarke admitted, glancing at her friends.

"It’s hard to top flying in a private jet while playing board games and being pampered," Octavia agreed, nudging Clarke playfully. "I think we owe Lexa more than a simple thank you."

The thought of seeing Lexa again added an undercurrent of excitement to Clarke’s contentment. For now, she was happy to enjoy the moment, surrounded by her closest friends in a setting she never could have imagined just weeks ago.

As the plane touched down in Los Angeles, Clarke, Octavia, and Raven politely said their goodbyes to both the pilot and Ava. A different man in a suit greeted them as they exited the plane, guiding them through private corridors of the airport. His pace was swift but professional, leading them past the usual crowds and into the sleek, black limousine waiting for them outside. The tinted windows kept the outside world at bay as the car glided smoothly through the busy streets of the city, heading toward the coast.

The hum of the city seemed distant inside the luxury of the car, and Clarke let out a small sigh of relief. The tension from the long day of travel was finally starting to ease, and the view of Los Angeles from the backseat was nothing short of stunning.

"Wow, this city is something else," Raven said, her face pressed against the window, eyes wide as they passed through bustling streets, the skyline rising in the distance. "It’s like we’re in a whole new world."

Octavia nodded, her gaze just as captivated. "It really feels like we’re in the heart of everything."

Clarke smiled at the both of them, the reality of the trip settling in. "And we’re just getting started."

The limousine wound its way toward the ocean, with the scent of the salty sea air beginning to drift in as they neared the coast. Clarke felt a mix of excitement and anticipation—this was a world she had never imagined she would be a part of, but here she was, with her friends, on her way to meet someone who had made this whole trip possible.

The car turned down a long, winding road that led to a beautiful, secluded beach house. Clarke glanced over at Raven and Octavia, both of them clearly intrigued by what lay ahead. It was clear that this was more than just a vacation. The luxury, the secrecy, and Lexa’s involvement all hinted at something much bigger than they could have anticipated.

Their chauffeur took their bags out of the car, and a staff member came out of the beach house to take them inside. Along with the young employee was Anya.

"Welcome. It's so nice that you could come," Anya said warmly, though Clarke could sense a slight tension in her tone.

"Anya," Clarke replied in a measured tone. She hadn't forgotten their first meeting and still wasn’t sure if she liked Anya or not.

Anya forced a smile, just a bit tight around the edges, before gesturing toward the house. "Come in, I’ll show you inside."

They followed Anya into a stunning modern living room, with large windows that opened out to a massive pool, which stretched down nearly to the beach. The view was breathtaking, the ocean just a short walk away, its rhythmic waves crashing gently on the shore.

"Lexa won’t be here for a little while, she had an important meeting," Anya continued, motioning toward the dining table in the center of the room. "But that gives us a bit of time to get the most important things sorted first."

Clarke’s eyes shifted to the table where several documents were laid out neatly. "I’ve already prepared an NDA for each of you. Please take the time to read through them carefully before signing," Anya said.

Raven, Octavia, and Clarke walked over to the table, each picking up a document. Clarke’s eyes scanned the text, but her mind kept drifting back to Anya.

She glanced at Anya, who was standing off to the side, watching them intently.

Raven raised an eyebrow as she skimmed the NDA. "So... just to clarify, this is all about confidentiality? Nothing too... restrictive?"

Anya gave a tight smile. "It’s pretty standard, nothing to worry about. Just making sure that everything stays private."

Clarke didn’t miss the way Anya said "private." There was an undertone to her words, one that made Clarke’s stomach tighten with unease.

Clarke looked at the document in her hands and said, "Lexa... she really isn’t here yet?"

Anya nodded, her expression softening slightly. "She should be here in a few hours. She’s really looking forward to seeing you."

Clarke didn't respond immediately. She was still processing everything—the documents, the tension in the air, and the odd sense of déjà-vu she couldn’t shake. It was like there were pieces of the puzzle she hadn’t yet figured out, and it was making her more cautious than usual.

After they had all signed the documents, Anya gave them the freedom to explore the house. Octavia and Raven were still full of excitement and joy, but the atmosphere had shifted for Clarke. She had traveled across the country for hours. She had signed another ridiculous NDA. And yet, Lexa still wasn’t here. The waiting felt heavier with every passing minute.

As the hours stretched on, Clarke’s patience began to wear thin. She couldn’t sit still anymore. She made her way over to Anya, her frustration creeping in.

"When is Lexa coming?" Clarke asked, her voice tinged with impatience.

Anya gave her an apologetic smile. "She should have been here by now, but she’s unfortunately been delayed. She’s very sorry. She'll be here after dinner."

Clarke nodded, though the feeling of deflation settled in her chest. Maybe this trip wouldn’t be what they had hoped for after all. Raven, having overheard the conversation, quickly interjected with her usual enthusiasm.

"Well, let’s eat something! What’s on the menu?" Raven asked with a bright smile.

Anya smiled, clearly appreciative of Raven’s effort to shift the mood. It was exactly why she had suggested Clarke bring her friends along—to keep things light. "What would you like to order? Do you have any preferences?"

"Just... not pizza," Raven grinned.

In the end, Anya ordered some delicious food from a fine restaurant. When the food arrived, Raven, ever the instigator, suggested, "Why don’t we eat on the beach?"

Anya hesitated, shaking her head. "I don’t think so," she said firmly. But Raven, always determined, shot her a look. They held each other’s gaze for a moment, as if silently communicating something that only the two of them understood.

Finally, Raven spoke, "Come on, Anya, why don’t you join us for a meal on the beach?"

Anya rolled her eyes but turned to Clarke and Octavia. "Do you want to eat on the beach too?" she asked.

Clarke shrugged. "Why not?" she replied, her tone more indifferent than she intended. Octavia, however, was all for it and nodded enthusiastically.

So, they gathered the food and made their way down to the beach. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the horizon as they laid a blanket on the sand. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore mixed with their laughter as they ate and chatted. The tension that had been hanging in the air earlier was still there but it seemed to fade slightly into the backdrop of the evening’s serenity.

As the sky darkened, Clarke couldn’t help but appreciate the moment, even if it wasn’t what she had wanted. Even if Lexa was still missing.

Anya cleaned up after their dinner and made her way back up to the house before the others. Clarke stayed on the beach, her gaze fixed on the waves, feeling the cool evening breeze against her skin. The rhythmic crashing of the water did little to soothe the unease settling in her chest.

She couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment that lingered, knowing that Lexa wasn’t there yet. There was something about the absence—about the delay—that made everything feel a bit off. The warmth of the beach, the laughter earlier—it all seemed distant now, replaced by a quiet longing.

Octavia noticed Clarke’s distant expression and approached her gently. "Hey, Clarke," she said softly. "Lexa will be here. It’ll be fine. It’s just… things happen."

Clarke gave a small nod, but didn’t respond immediately. The words didn’t seem to comfort her in the way Octavia had hoped. She appreciated her friend's attempt, but the truth was, she was too tangled in her own thoughts to find solace just yet.

After a few more moments, Octavia gave Clarke’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before turning to follow Raven, who had already started walking back toward the house. Clarke stayed behind for a moment longer, letting the sound of the waves wash over her before finally standing up and following her friends up the path.

The house was quiet when they arrived, with only the soft glow of lights from inside welcoming them back. Clarke’s mind was still elsewhere, and the distance between her and the rest of the group seemed to grow as they entered. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate their company—it was just that, no matter how much they tried to cheer her up, she couldn’t help but feel something was missing. Someone was missing.

Anya had lit the fireplace when they returned from the beach, the crackling flames adding to the atmosphere of warmth in the spacious but cozy living room. The low hum of music played in the background, and a bottle of wine sat open on the coffee table.

The three friends had settled in, discussing everything from their spontaneous trip to Los Angeles to their plans for the next few days. Raven was trying to keep the mood light, joking about how absurd everything had felt since they’d arrived, while Octavia took it all in with her usual sharp, observant eyes. Clarke, though, couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Her mind still lingered on the feeling of emptiness she couldn't shake.

She couldn’t help but feel the weight of the day—traveling cross-country, the anticipation of seeing Lexa, and the strange distance that still hung between them. She had tried to push it aside, but the lingering unease remained.

Every now and then, Anya glanced nervously at the clock, as if willing the time to speed up or somehow make Lexa appear faster. Clarke noticed the unease in Anya’s demeanor, but it only mirrored her own impatience. Lexa was supposed to be here already. Clarke had been looking forward to this moment for so long, and now that it was here, it felt like everything was taking longer than it should.

"She’ll be here soon," Octavia said, breaking the silence that had begun to stretch between them. "Don't worry. She’s probably just stuck in something."

Clarke nodded, but the smile she gave Octavia was strained. She wasn’t sure if Octavia's reassurance was for her or for herself. She stood and walked toward the windows, gazing out at the dark sky, trying to breathe through the nerves building inside her.

The evening wore on in slow, almost painful fashion, and just as Clarke started thinking about going to bed, she heard the unmistakable sound of a door opening.

The sound was faint, but in the quiet of the house, it made all their heads turn. Clarke’s heart skipped as the front door clicked open. There, standing in the doorway, was Lexa.

She looked exhausted, her hair slightly tousled from the long day, her dark clothes slightly wrinkled as if she had just come from a long day of meetings. She had a bag over her shoulder, and her eyes were tired, but when they landed on Clarke, there was a flicker of recognition, of something softer behind the weariness. She stood in the doorway for a moment, almost as if taking everything in.

"Holy shit! It’s Alexandra Woods!" Raven’s voice was full of awe, but Clarke barely heard her. She barely registered Octavia’s surprised expression.

Clarke’s heart surged in her chest, and before she even realized what she was doing, she moved. She moved quickly, the floor barely making a sound beneath her feet as she closed the distance between herself and Lexa. Her breath caught in her throat, and before she could think twice, she threw herself into Lexa’s arms, feeling the weight of her body against Lexa's strong frame.

Lexa’s eyes widened in surprise, but there was no hesitation as she dropped her bag and pulled Clarke tightly against her. The moment they embraced felt like everything in the world had finally snapped back into place. It was like a missing piece of her soul had been returned.

Clarke buried her face in the crook of Lexa’s neck, inhaling the familiar scent of her skin. There was something so grounding about her presence, something that made Clarke feel like she could finally relax, like everything would be okay. The frustration of the day faded, replaced by something far more powerful.

Lexa gently tilted Clarke’s face up to meet her own, and in an instant, their lips collided. It was a kiss that felt like an exhale after holding your breath for too long. There was passion, yes, but more than that, there was relief—relief that they were finally together again, after all the uncertainty, the distance, and the unknowns. Clarke’s lips were soft against Lexa’s, and Lexa responded with a tenderness that melted Clarke’s resolve.

The kiss deepened, slow and careful, as though neither wanted to rush the moment but wanted to savor it instead. For a long second, nothing else mattered. There was no NDA, no cameras, no pressure, just the two of them, together. Lexa was finally home.

When they finally pulled apart, Clarke’s heart was racing, her chest heaving slightly from the intensity of the moment. She looked up at Lexa, who was smiling, though her eyes still held that tired edge. Clarke brushed a strand of hair out of Lexa’s face, her hand lingering on the side of her cheek.

"I missed you," Clarke whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

"I’m sorry I’m late," Lexa murmured, her fingers tracing lightly over Clarke's arm as she spoke. "Work ran longer than expected, but... I’m here now."

Clarke smiled, the weight in her chest lifting with those words. "You’re here now," she repeated, as though saying it out loud made it more real.

The room felt lighter, warmer, and the tension that had been hanging over the evening seemed to dissipate. Octavia, Raven, and Anya exchanged glances but didn’t interrupt the moment, letting Clarke and Lexa have their space.

"Finally," Raven whispered to Octavia, though Clarke couldn’t hear her.

Clarke took a step back, still holding Lexa’s hand, reluctant to let go but knowing that they would have time to catch up.

"Come on," Clarke said softly. "Let’s sit by the fire. I’ve waited long enough."

Lexa nodded, her fingers interlacing with Clarke’s.

Raven, Octavia, and Anya exchanged a quick glance, the silent understanding passing between them like a shared secret. They had all witnessed the rawness of the reunion, the palpable connection between Clarke and Lexa, and without a word, they knew it was time to give them the space they needed.

Raven, ever the practical one, was the first to stand. She gave Lexa a wink and a teasing smile, her voice light as she spoke, “Alright, alright, we’ll leave you two to it. Goodnight, lovebirds.”

Just as Raven walked past Clarke, she whispered, “She’s an actress!"

Octavia followed with a soft chuckle, giving Clarke a knowing look. “We’ll be in our rooms if you need anything,” she added, her tone warm but teasing.

Anya, more reserved than the others, offered a polite nod. “Goodnight,” she said quietly before turning toward the door.

Clarke smiled at them, her heart still fluttering from the moment with Lexa. “Goodnight,” she replied, grateful for their understanding.

Once the three of them had exited the room, the door closing softly behind them, the atmosphere in the living room shifted. The only sounds now were the crackling of the fire and the distant waves crashing outside. Lexa and Clarke were alone.

Clarke turned to Lexa, her smile softer now, the warmth of the fire reflecting in her eyes. “It’s just us now,” she murmured, her voice low and tender.

Lexa nodded, her gaze not leaving Clarke’s. She stepped closer, the space between them closing as she reached out, cupping Clarke’s face in her hands. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” she said, her voice full of quiet sincerity.

Clarke shook her head, leaning into Lexa’s touch. “You don’t have to apologize,” she replied, her hand gently resting on Lexa’s arm. “I just... missed you.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, heavy with emotion. Lexa smiled softly, her thumb brushing over Clarke’s cheek. “I missed you too,” she said, her voice a soft whisper as she leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Clarke’s forehead.

Clarke closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the warmth of Lexa’s touch, the comforting presence that she had longed for. She felt a quiet peace settle over her, as if everything—everything—was finally falling into place. They didn’t need to say anything more. The connection between them was enough.

With the fire crackling softly in the background, Lexa and Clarke sat down together on the couch, their fingers still intertwined. The world outside seemed far away, and for once, Clarke allowed herself to relax fully, her heart at ease, knowing that Lexa was there beside her.

It was the kind of quiet, simple moment that made all the chaos, the waiting, and the uncertainty worth it.

Clarke was the first to break the comfortable silence. "Should I call you Alexandra now?" she asked, her voice curious yet playful.

Lexa chuckled, a soft, melodious sound that filled the cozy space. "God, no. No one who knows me personally calls me Alexandra, except my mom."

Clarke smiled, leaning her head on Lexa’s shoulder. "Are you close with your mom?" she inquired, her voice gentle, as if treading carefully over sensitive ground.

Lexa hesitated for a moment before answering. "Not really. It was her idea for me to get into acting. I started as a child actor. A baby actor, actually."

"Do you not like it?" Clarke lifted her head, her eyes meeting Lexa’s, searching for a deeper truth.

"I do love my job, but there are a lot of things that come with it that I don’t necessarily love," Lexa admitted, her gaze softening. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Clarke’s lips.

"So, what should I call you then?" Clarke asked, a teasing lilt to her voice.

"My friends call me Alex, but you can still call me Lexa," Lexa replied, her tone tender, as if offering a precious secret.

"You don’t mind? I mean, I think I’ll always think of you as Lexa, but if you prefer Alex, I can switch," Clarke said, her words sincere, her willingness to adapt evident.

Lexa laughed softly, pulling Clarke into another kiss, her lips lingering as she spoke between each kiss. "I… love… the way… you… say… my… name… I… want… to be… your… Lexa."

Clarke smiled against Lexa’s lips, her heart swelling with affection. "And you’ll always be my Lexa," she whispered, sealing her promise with another kiss, the warmth of the fire mirroring the heat between them.

Chapter Text

When Clarke woke up, she was alone in the bed, and Lexa’s side was already cold, a sign she had been up for a while. Clarke looked around the room, but she was completely alone. The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room’s modern decor. The quiet was almost unsettling, and Clarke felt a pang of disappointment at not waking up beside Lexa.

She sat up, stretching and running a hand through her messy hair, trying to shake off the lingering sleepiness. The events of the previous night replayed in her mind—the warmth of Lexa’s embrace, the soft whispers exchanged by the fire, and the long, lingering kisses that made her heart race.

Clarke sighed, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and placing her feet on the cool floor. She grabbed her phone from the nightstand, hoping for a message or a note from Lexa explaining where she had gone. Nothing.

Clarke padded across the room, the wooden floor creaking slightly under her steps, and opened the door to the hallway.

Clarke walked through the quiet house, the soft padding of her bare feet barely making a sound on the cool wooden floor. The early morning light streamed through the large windows, casting long shadows across the minimalist furniture. It seemed like she was the only one awake.

It wasn’t until Clarke approached the house’s gym, that she began to hear faint sounds—rhythmic thuds, muffled grunts, and the occasional sharp bark of instructions. Her curiosity piqued, Clarke gently pushed the door open and peeked inside.

There stood Lexa, in the middle of an intense sparring session with a muscular Black woman. "Faster," the woman commanded, her voice steady and authoritative. Lexa responded without hesitation, her movements fluid and precise as she launched into a series of strikes and blocks. She wore tight, form-fitting training clothes that accentuated her lean, muscular frame, and sweat glistened on her skin, trickling down her face and neck, evidence of the effort she was exerting.

Clarke stood in the doorway, mesmerized by the sight. It took her a moment to realize that they weren’t actually fighting but rehearsing choreographed sequences of punches, kicks, and parries. The fluidity of their motions, the precision of each movement—it was like watching an intricate dance unfold. Clarke felt a swell of pride as she watched Lexa, her strength and grace on full display.

As part of the sequence they were practicing, Lexa pivoted to the side, shifting her angle to the woman. This movement gave her a direct line of sight to Clarke, standing quietly at the entrance. Lexa’s eyes widened in surprise, and a radiant smile spread across her face, momentarily breaking her concentration.

That split-second distraction was enough for her to miss a planned block, and the woman’s fist landed solidly on Lexa’s shoulder. "Focus," the woman chided, her tone sharp but not unkind.

"Of course," Lexa responded, her voice slightly breathless but filled with warmth. "Just a moment." She jogged over to Clarke, her smile never fading. Without a word, she wrapped Clarke in a strong embrace, lifting her off the ground. Clarke laughed, her arms instinctively circling Lexa's neck, though she wrinkled her nose and teased, "Ew, you’re all sweaty."

Lexa chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to Clarke's cheek. "I have to finish my training, but you’re welcome to watch," she said softly, her eyes gleaming with affection.

Clarke nodded, her earlier unease dissipating. "I’d like that."

Lexa returned to the gym mat, resuming her practice with renewed vigor. Clarke found a comfortable spot on a nearby bench, watching with admiration as Lexa and her sparring partner continued their session. The rhythmic sounds of their training turned into a symphony of dedication and effort.

After a while, Lexa transitioned to strength training, her muscles flexing as she lifted weights and performed push-ups with ease. Clarke’s stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten yet. Smiling to herself, she decided to head back to the kitchen to grab something to eat, feeling content knowing that Lexa was in her element.

When Clarke returned to the kitchen, she found her friends already there. Raven sat hunched over a cup of coffee, staring intently into the dark liquid as though it held the secrets of the universe. She was clearly not a morning person, her entire demeanor radiating a reluctance to face the day. Octavia, on the other hand, was already dressed in her workout clothes, busily filling her water bottle at the sink.

"Hey, where have you been?" Octavia asked, glancing over her shoulder at Clarke.

"Oh, I was just watching Lexa train a bit," Clarke replied, trying to sound as casual as possible. Despite her efforts, a faint blush crept up her cheeks, betraying her.

Normally, this would have been prime teasing material for Raven, but she remained unmoved, still as a statue, gazing into her coffee without a word. Her silence was unusual, and Clarke noted it, though she didn’t comment on it just yet.

Octavia, choosing not to tease Clarke either, offered her a broad smile instead. "Do you think she’d mind if I joined in for a bit?"

Clarke returned the smile, grateful for the easy shift in conversation. "I think it’s totally fine."

With a nod, Octavia grabbed her water bottle and headed off to the gym, leaving Clarke and Raven alone in the kitchen. Clarke busied herself finding something to eat, the sounds of breakfast preparation filling the otherwise quiet room.

Clarke sat hunched over her breakfast, her fork idly pushing scrambled eggs around her plate. The steam from her coffee curled upward, mingling with the morning light streaming through the window. She chewed her lip, hesitating, a dozen questions swirling in her mind. She knew she should ask Lexa directly about everything that intrigued her, but unable to resist the urge, Clarke sighed and pulled out her phone. With a quick glance around to ensure no one was watching, she opened her browser and typed "Alexandra Woods." The search results loaded instantly, and Clarke's breath hitched at the flood of information.

Page after page displayed Lexa's life in high definition—her illustrious film career, a gallery of stunning red-carpet photos, and a detailed list of the awards she’d won over the years. There were interviews, articles, and even fan blogs dedicated to her. Clarke felt a mix of awe and intimidation. Lexa wasn’t just talented; she was a global star.

As she scrolled further, Clarke found personal details—her height, her upbringing, and the fact that both her brother and mother were also well-known in the industry. Then, her thumb paused mid-scroll, her eyes widening.

Her boyfriend.

Bjorn Lothbrok.

Clarke's heart stopped for a moment, and her thumb hovered over the screen. She stared at the series of images: Lexa and Bjorn attending premieres, walking hand in hand, laughing together.

Clarke’s mind raced with questions, her heart pounding in her chest. Her fingers trembled slightly as she quickly closed the browser.

Clarke glanced nervously at Raven, who was still lost in her coffee, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside Clarke. Taking a deep breath, Clarke tried to compose herself. It must be a fake relationship, surely.

After finishing her breakfast and tidying up, Clarke noticed Raven finally stirring. Raven lifted her coffee cup, took a sip, grimaced, and muttered, "Cold." She pushed the still half-full cup away and headed toward the patio door.

"Hey, where are you going?" Clarke called after her.

"Swimming," Raven mumbled as she stepped outside. To Clarke's surprise, Raven jumped straight into the pool, still wearing her nightclothes.

Clarke shook her head, bemused by Raven’s antics. Just then, Lexa returned from the gym, a towel draped around her neck and a broad smile on her face.

"You never mentioned Octavia was so athletic," Lexa said, grabbing a quick bite of breakfast.

"She used to be in the police force, but she doesn't talk about it much with new people. She's trying to get certified as a bodyguard," Clarke explained.

"Really?" Lexa said, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Maybe I can pull some strings for her."

"She’d be thrilled," Clarke replied, smiling.

Lexa leaned in and kissed Clarke before taking the final bite of her breakfast. "I have a meeting, so I’m going to take a quick shower, but I’ll see you later," she said, already heading out of the kitchen.

"Are you gone again today?" Clarke asked, a note of disappointment in her voice.

"Unfortunately. I start filming next week and have a lot to wrap up before then," Lexa said apologetically.

She walked back to Clarke, gave her another kiss, and said, "See you later," before leaving the room.

Raven returned from the pool, drenched but more alert, her dark hair dripping water as she wrapped a towel around herself. Octavia soon joined them in the kitchen, her cheeks flushed from her workout, a light sheen of sweat still on her forehead. Clarke watched them with a small smile, appreciating the contrast between Raven's impulsiveness and Octavia's discipline.

"That swim woke me up," Raven declared, squeezing water out of her hair before grabbing a glass of juice. "I needed that."

Octavia stretched her arms over her head, flexing her muscles. "A good workout will do the job," she said, taking a long sip from her water bottle.

"Alright, let’s get ready for the day," Clarke suggested, eager to distract herself from the ache of missing Lexa.

They each went off to their respective rooms to shower and change, the house echoing with the sounds of running water.

When they reconvened in the living room, they were fresh and ready, clad in casual yet chic outfits suitable for a day out in Los Angeles. Clarke wore a light sundress, Octavia chose a pair of jeans with a fitted tank top, and Raven opted for shorts and a loose tee that hung slightly off one shoulder.

"What do you guys want to do today?" Clarke asked, brushing her still-damp hair back from her face.

"Definitely some sightseeing," Octavia said, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "I want to see all the famous spots."

"Same here," Raven agreed, her enthusiasm infectious. "Let’s hit the Hollywood Walk of Fame, maybe check out some cool neighborhoods, and grab some good food."

As they planned their day, Anya quietly appeared from the corner of the room, where she had been working on her laptop. She didn’t say much but had clearly overheard their conversation. Clarke noticed her discreet presence as Anya picked up her phone and made a quick call.

Not long after, the sound of a car pulling up outside caught their attention. They walked to the front door and were greeted by the sight of a sleek, black limousine. A smartly dressed chauffeur opened the door, and a private guide stood beside the car, ready to escort them on their tour.

"Whoa," Raven gasped, her eyes wide with amazement. "This is next level!"

Octavia let out an impressed whistle, her smile growing broader. "This is how you do sightseeing in style."

Clarke, however, felt a flicker of unease. As much as she appreciated the gesture, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this luxurious treatment was part of the broader effort to keep them content and distracted. It felt too orchestrated, too much like they were being managed. Yet, she didn’t want to dampen her friends’ excitement, so she pushed her concerns aside and climbed into the limousine with them.

Clarke, Raven, and Octavia had enjoyed a wonderful day exploring the city's most iconic tourist spots, from the bustling Hollywood Walk of Fame to the serene Griffith Observatory. They indulged in a late, delicious lunch at a trendy café, savoring every bite as they shared laughter and stories. Raven told Clarke everything she knew about Lexa's career, mentioning that she was known as one of the straightest actresses in Hollywood. Octavia laughed and commented, ”Clearly not.”

Content and full, they leaned back in their seats as the limousine cruised along the coastal road, the sun beginning its descent, casting a golden glow over the ocean.

When the limousine pulled into the driveway of the beachfront house, the trio stepped out, feeling the gentle breeze on their faces. As they entered the house, the scent of the sea mingled with the familiar warmth of home. Clarke’s eyes immediately landed on Lexa, who was seated at the dining table, her brows furrowed in concentration as she sifted through a stack of papers.

“Lexa!” Clarke exclaimed, her voice filled with joy as she rushed over. Lexa, without hesitation, dropped the papers and stood, welcoming Clarke into her arms. Their kiss was warm and tender, a brief but sweet reunion.

“You’re home already!” Clarke said, her excitement palpable as she gazed up at Lexa.

“Yes, but just for a little while. I have a date later,” Lexa replied, her tone casual but with an undertone of regret.

“A date?” Clarke’s face lit up, her eyes sparkling at the thought of a real date with Lexa. The anticipation made her heart race.

Lexa’s smile faltered, and she quickly began to explain. “I should have worded that differently. I’m sorry. It’s a public, straight date tonight—with a fake boyfriend,” she said, her voice softening with apology.

“Oh…” Clarke’s face fell, unable to hide her disappointment. The enthusiasm drained from her as the realization settled in. She was happy that Lexa’s boyfriend was fake, but she really missed spending time with Lexa.

“It’s been planned for a while. Our… fake relationship follows a strict timeline,” Lexa said, her eyes searching Clarke’s for understanding.

“It’s okay…” Clarke responded, though the words felt heavy on her tongue, and her tone betrayed her attempt to sound supportive.

“I’m sorry. We’ll have proper time together soon. I promise,” Lexa said sincerely, reaching out to touch Clarke’s arm, her eyes filled with guilt.

By now, Raven and Octavia had entered, standing near the doorway, trying to make themselves inconspicuous. Lexa noticed them and seized the opportunity to shift the conversation, turning to Octavia with a purposeful look.

“Octavia, one of my acquaintances needs a bodyguard for a premiere later this week. If you’re interested…” Lexa began, her voice steady and inviting.

Octavia’s eyes lit up, a broad smile spreading across her face. “I’m interested!” she said, her excitement unmistakable.

“Great. They’d like to meet you tonight if possible,” Lexa continued, pleased with Octavia’s enthusiasm.

“I’m ready,” Octavia replied confidently, without a moment’s hesitation.

“Excellent. I’ll have Anya arrange a car for you,” Lexa said, her smile returning as she felt a sense of accomplishment in helping Octavia.

Turning back to Clarke, Lexa’s expression softened again, the weight of the situation evident in her eyes. “I’m really sorry about this, but I need to get ready for my date.”

Clarke nodded, her lips pressing together in an attempt to mask her feelings. “Okay,” she murmured, though the disappointment lingered in her tone.

Lexa leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on Clarke’s forehead before whispering, “I promise we’ll have our time soon.” She gave Clarke a sad smile and turned to leave, her steps heavy with the burden of obligation. Clarke watched her go, feeling a mix of frustration and longing, the ache in her heart a reminder of the complexity of their situation.

Lexa had left for her date, and shortly after, Octavia was picked up by a car to meet her potential employer. With both of them gone, only Raven, Anya, and Clarke remained in the house. The air felt heavy, the silence underscored by the distant sound of the waves outside.

"Hey, we talked about having dinner on the beach again," Raven suggested, her tone light but tentative, aware of the somber mood since Lexa’s departure.

Clarke shook her head, her eyes downcast. "I think I’d prefer to be alone for a bit," she said quietly, the weight of her emotions evident in her voice.

"Are you sure?" Raven asked, concern etched on her face.

"I’m sure. Just take Anya with you to the beach," Clarke insisted, forcing a small smile to reassure her friend.

Raven hesitated for a moment but then nodded, understanding that Clarke needed space. "Alright. We’ll be back later," she said, gesturing for Anya to follow.

Once they had left, the house felt even quieter. Clarke moved to the couch, grabbing a bag of chips and a beer from the fridge on the way. She sat down heavily, the cushion sinking under her weight as she turned on the TV, mindlessly flipping through channels.

She nibbled on the chips, taking occasional sips of beer, her thoughts swirling around Lexa and the complicated nature of their relationship. The flickering images on the screen did little to distract her from the ache in her chest. Alone in the dimly lit living room, Clarke indulged in a rare moment of self-pity, feeling the sting of loneliness as the evening wore on.

Lexa found herself unexpectedly enjoying Bjorn's company more than she had anticipated. From the moment he picked her up, she had been battling a heavy heart, but Bjorn's easy charm and gentle demeanor gradually chipped away at her somber mood. He kept the conversation light, peppered with amusing anecdotes, and never once pressured her to be more present than she wanted to be. It was a refreshing change from the high-pressure situations she often found herself in.

By the time they reached dessert, Lexa’s laughter came more easily. The air between them was relaxed, filled with the kind of camaraderie that made her forget, even briefly, that this was a public performance. Bjorn reached across the table, his hand covering hers, his touch warm and steady. Lexa allowed it, feeling the connection, even though it was all for show.

As they left the restaurant, the calm of their shared moment was replaced by the familiar frenzy of flashing cameras and shouted questions. The paparazzi were relentless, their cameras capturing every step and glance. Bjorn leaned close to Lexa, his lips near her ear. "If this gets too much, let go of my hand. I’ll stop immediately," he whispered. His voice was calm, reassuring, and it made Lexa feel protected in the midst of chaos.

Despite the din, Lexa felt a semblance of safety in his proximity. She squeezed his hand, signaling her understanding, and he gave a subtle nod. They walked down the street, hand in hand, a display for the photographers. Bjorn's hand remained gentle but firm around hers, guiding her through the throng with ease.

They moved purposefully, eventually turning into a quieter alley. The sounds of the city dimmed, and the flashes of the cameras grew sparse. In this relative calm, Bjorn paused, turning to face Lexa. The brick wall behind her was rough, but she leaned against it, needing the support. Bjorn's eyes met hers, his expression soft but serious.

"Tell me to stop if it’s too much," he said, his voice low and steady.

Lexa took a deep breath, feeling the tension still buzzing in her limbs. She managed a small smile, her eyes conveying more than words could. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, a silent reassurance that she was okay. Bjorn, understanding her unspoken consent, leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to her lips.

The kiss was soft, lingering, and respectful, yet charged with the undercurrent of their shared charade. The flashes from distant cameras still flickered in her peripheral vision, but they felt less invasive now, almost distant. Bjorn’s hand on hers anchored her, reminding her that despite the pretense, there was a genuine care in his actions.

When he pulled back, Bjorn’s eyes searched hers again, ensuring she was still comfortable. Lexa smiled a little more, a quiet gratitude in her gaze. Together, they walked back to the street, still hand in hand, continuing their orchestrated performance, but with a newfound ease in each other’s company.

Clarke didn’t want to watch anything she was flipping through. The TV felt like a carousel of meaningless noise and images—fragments of movies, snippets of news, and reality shows that barely held her attention for more than a few seconds. She sighed in frustration, the remote a lifeline to distraction that wasn’t working. She had been zapping through channels for what felt like hours, her mind restless and unfocused. Her third—or was it fourth?—beer sat half-empty on the coffee table, a silent testament to her growing frustration and disappointment.

Nothing on the screen seemed to capture her interest, nothing that could take her mind off the ache in her chest. She leaned back into the couch cushions, her gaze flickering between the TV and the beer, hoping for some reprieve from the thoughts circling in her head.

And then, the voice of a gossip journalist sliced through the air like a dagger.

"Alexandra Woods caught in a heated moment. We could hardly believe our eyes when the young couple was captured in their desire after a romantic date, but the pictures speak for themselves."

Clarke’s heart thudded loudly in her chest as the screen filled with images of Lexa and a blonde man, their hands intertwined. The man leaned close, his lips brushing against Lexa's ear, whispering something Clarke couldn’t hear but imagined was intimate. The next image hit like a punch to the gut—Lexa, pressed against a brick wall in a dimly lit alley, the man's mouth on her neck, then moving to her lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

Clarke’s fingers went limp, and the beer slipped from her hand, crashing to the floor with a splash that sent droplets spraying across the room. The cold liquid seeped onto the floor, unnoticed as Clarke’s world tilted. Her vision blurred with tears, falling freely, betraying the storm of emotions roiling inside her.

Desperation gripped her as she fumbled for the remote, her hand shaking as she turned off the TV, plunging the room into a suffocating silence. But it was too late—the images were seared into her mind, haunting her every blink. Lexa’s face, flushed with something that wasn’t directed at her, burned behind her eyelids.

Clarke sat motionless, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she stared at the now-blank screen. Her mind raced, a whirlwind of hurt, anger, and betrayal crashing over her in relentless waves. Minutes ticked by, the silence around her amplifying the chaotic thoughts in her head.

Eventually, she forced herself to move, her muscles stiff as she rose from the couch. Her eyes drifted to the spilled beer, the puddle shimmering in the dim light of the room. She bent down to clean it up, her hands steadying herself on the coffee table as a wave of dizziness washed over her. It was only then she realized how much she had drunk, the alcohol dulling her senses but not enough to numb the pain.

She wiped up the mess, her movements slow and mechanical, the task a small distraction from the turmoil inside her. But no amount of cleaning could erase the images that continued to torment her, the sight of Lexa with someone else, their staged intimacy feeling too real, too painful.

Lexa sat back against the plush seat of the car, the rhythmic hum of the tires against the road barely registering in her mind. Her body ached with exhaustion, a culmination of the day’s events and the performance she had to play. But despite the fatigue, her thoughts were consumed with one thing: Clarke.

She couldn’t wait to see her, to wrap her arms around. The pain she had caused, the tension between them—it was almost suffocating. She hoped Clarke was still awake, still waiting for her at the beach house. She needed to hold her, and somehow make things right before Clarke saw the pictures. The last thing Lexa wanted was to have Clarke find out from the media.

The car’s radio crackled to life, a soft female voice filling the quiet space. It was a calm, melodic song at first, but the words… the words made Lexa feel like the universe was throwing salt into an open wound.

“Lips meet teeth and tongue
My heart skips eight beats at once
If we were meant to be
We would have been by now
See what you wanna see
But all I see is him right now.”

The song seemed to echo her thoughts, each lyric a painful reminder of the distance that now lay between her and Clarke. The images of her with Bjorn, the kiss, the way he had whispered in her ear and held her close—those were the things that would be plastered across every tabloid, every gossip site.

The press would see what they wanted to see. They would see the chemistry between her and Bjorn, the moments that were part of the charade, and they would spin it into something real. She could already feel the weight of it—Clarke would see it too.

Her thoughts turned to Clarke again, the way her face had looked earlier, distant and disappointed. Lexa closed her eyes briefly, guilt washing over her in waves. She had hoped she could protect Clarke from this, that they could keep their worlds separate.

"I just need to talk to her," Lexa whispered to herself, her voice barely audible above the hum of the car. She wanted Clarke to know the truth, to understand why she had done it.

But in her heart, she feared that words wouldn't be enough. That no matter what she said, the images, the public perception, would always stand between them. She was losing her grip on everything she had worked so hard to build with Clarke, and the thought was unbearable.

The car slowed as they neared the beach house, the warm glow of the lights reflecting off the ocean in the distance. Lexa’s pulse quickened. She was almost there, but the anxiety gnawed at her.

Clarke decided to retreat to bed, hoping that sleep would offer an escape from the turmoil swirling in her mind. But as she lay there, staring up at the dark ceiling, sleep was the furthest thing from her. The silence of the room was deafening, each second ticking by with agonizing slowness. She shifted under the covers, trying to find a position that would bring comfort, but none did. Her thoughts kept circling back to the images she had seen on the television, the betrayal she felt, and the growing distance between her and Lexa.

Time passed in a haze of restless thoughts, and just when Clarke began to consider getting up again, she heard the bedroom door creak open. Her body tensed, and she closed her eyes, feigning sleep as the door quietly shut. Lexa entered, moving with deliberate softness, the faint rustle of her clothes barely audible in the stillness.

Clarke listened intently as Lexa moved about the room, her footsteps light on the floor. Lexa didn’t turn on the light, likely not wanting to disturb Clarke’s presumed sleep. In the dark, Clarke could hear the subtle sounds of Lexa changing, the soft shuffle of fabric, the click of a drawer being opened and closed gently.

Each sound was a reminder of how close Lexa was, and yet how distant she felt emotionally. Clarke kept her breathing even, her body motionless, though her heart ached with every quiet noise Lexa made.

Finally, Lexa slipped into bed, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight. She settled on her side, her back facing Clarke, letting out a small, content sigh as if relieved to finally rest. The bed’s warmth grew as their shared body heat filled the space, but to Clarke, it felt cold, like a chasm had formed between them.

As Lexa lay beside her, seemingly falling into sleep, Clarke’s tears returned, flowing silently down her cheeks. She bit her lip to keep from making any sound, her chest tightening with the effort to stay quiet. The closeness they once shared felt unreachable now, an intangible connection that had frayed without her fully realizing when it had started.

She turned her head slightly, gazing at Lexa’s back in the faint light filtering through the window. Lexa’s breathing had evened out, and Clarke knew she was falling asleep. Clarke longed to reach out, to touch Lexa’s shoulder, to feel her warmth and assure herself that they were still connected, but the weight of her emotions kept her hand firmly by her side.

The night stretched on as Clarke lay there, tears slipping down her face, her heart aching with the sense of separation that had settled between them. The darkness seemed to mirror her feelings, deep and unyielding, leaving her feeling more alone than she had ever felt before, even with Lexa lying just inches away.

Chapter Text

Clarke woke to the soft strumming of a guitar. The sound was gentle, almost like a lullaby, and as she opened her eyes, she saw Lexa sitting on a chair a little ways away. Lexa was dressed in workout clothes, though she clearly hadn’t started training yet. She was completely absorbed in the music, her fingers moving gracefully over the strings as her voice filled the room.

"Ocean blue eyes looking in mine,
I feel like I might sink and drown and die..."

Clarke watched Lexa, taking in the way the soft light from the morning filtered through the windows and cast a warm glow on her. She was lost in her own world, her expression a mix of concentration and calm as she sang for herself. There was something so intimate about the way Lexa played, like she was offering a part of herself in the song, an unspoken vulnerability that Clarke could feel.

"You’re so gorgeous,
I can’t say anything to your face,
‘Cause look at your face..."

Clarke felt a rush of warmth flood through her chest at the sound of Lexa’s voice. It was both soothing and electrifying, a perfect contrast to the chaos she had been feeling inside the past day. She stayed quiet, not wanting to interrupt, as Lexa continued.

"And I’m so furious
At you for making me feel this way,
But what can I say?
You’re gorgeous..."

Clarke remained still, mesmerized by the gentle melody and the way Lexa poured her feelings into the song. It was like watching a part of Lexa’s soul on display. Clarke’s eyes softened as she let the music wash over her, and for a moment, she forgot about all the tension from the night before. This moment felt so pure, so real, and Clarke couldn’t help but feel a little more connected to Lexa in that space.

"You make me so happy, it turns back to sad,
There’s nothing I hate more than what I can’t have,
You are so gorgeous, it makes me so mad..."

Lexa glanced up from her guitar, her gaze meeting Clarke’s. "You’re awake," she said with a soft smile, as if she hadn’t realized just how much time had passed.

"It was beautiful," Clarke said, her voice still a little hushed, as if she didn’t want to break the magic of the moment.

"Hm," Lexa responded, her smile widening. "I’ve been feeling very inspired lately. It helps to have such a wonderful and beautiful artist in my bed."

Clarke’s heart fluttered at the words, though she still didn’t quite know how to respond. She smiled, but the words felt like they were caught in her throat. Lexa’s presence had a way of making everything feel like it was falling into place, even if she didn’t completely understand it herself.

"I should probably be honest," Lexa said, the tone of her voice shifting slightly as she put the guitar aside. "I saw the beer bottles in front of the TV this morning on my way down to training."

"Ah," Clarke muttered, unable to completely hide her embarrassment. It was hard to believe how quickly she’d allowed herself to slip last night, and the last thing she wanted was for Lexa to see that part of her.

"I didn’t want you to wake up alone again," Lexa continued, her voice soft and warm. "So, I haven’t trained yet. My trainer, Indra, will be pretty mad if I skip out completely, but I thought maybe we could train together for a bit."

Clarke’s smile softened as she saw the effort Lexa was putting into trying to make her feel better, to bridge the gap that had formed between them.

"I’ve got some stuff to catch up on too, but I can do that from here. Later today, I have a talk show interview, but you can come with me and watch if you want."

Lexa stepped carefully toward Clarke, as though approaching a wild animal, her eyes warm but cautious. Clarke couldn’t help but chuckle at the way she was moving, as if she didn’t want to spook her. Without hesitation, Clarke reached out, took Lexa’s hand, and pulled her down to sit beside her on the bed.

"Yes, please, to all of it," Clarke mumbled against Lexa’s lips before she kissed her deeply, the world outside fading as they shared the quiet understanding that existed between them.

Clarke and Lexa walked together into the training room, the sound of their footsteps echoing softly against the sleek floors. The room was spacious and well-equipped, with various machines and weights neatly arranged. They both headed toward the two treadmills positioned at one end of the room. Clarke stepped onto one and started at a slow walking pace, while Lexa immediately set hers to a faster speed, breaking into a steady jog.

Clarke maintained her relaxed walk, watching as Lexa's stride lengthened, her movements smooth and efficient. After a few minutes, Lexa transitioned to the rowing machine, settling into the seat and beginning a rhythmic pull. They exchanged smiles, a silent communication of companionship, before Lexa focused fully on her workout, her eyes narrowing in concentration.

Clarke's gaze wandered around the room but frequently returned to Lexa, captivated by her dedication. She observed Lexa's muscles flex and contract as she pulled on the handles, her breath even and controlled. The intensity in Lexa's demeanor was both impressive and mesmerizing.

When Lexa finished on the rowing machine, she moved on to strength training, picking up a set of weights and beginning a series of lifts. Clarke, still walking on the treadmill, felt a mixture of admiration and curiosity. Lexa's focus was unwavering as she went through her sets, her movements deliberate and powerful.

Eventually, Lexa approached the punching bag in the corner of the room, wrapping her hands quickly before unleashing a series of punches and jabs. Clarke could see the fire in her eyes, a fierce determination that made it hard to look away. The sound of Lexa's fists connecting with the bag echoed through the room, a rhythmic beat that matched the pounding of Clarke's heart.

After a while, Lexa slowed, taking deep breaths as she started to stretch out her muscles, cooling down from her intense session. Clarke stepped off the treadmill, having enjoyed a long, leisurely walk, but more than that, she had enjoyed watching Lexa. There was something incredibly captivating about the way Lexa moved, the energy and strength she exuded.

As Lexa finished her stretches, she glanced over at Clarke, catching her staring. Clarke blushed slightly but smiled, feeling a warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with her physical activity. Lexa returned the smile, her expression softening as she walked over to Clarke, a silent question in her eyes, asking if everything was okay. Clarke nodded, feeling more at ease than she had in a long time.

After their workout, Lexa and Clarke decided to take a long, relaxing shower together. The bathroom was spacious, with a large walk-in shower that had multiple showerheads. The warm water cascaded down, creating a soothing atmosphere filled with steam.

Lexa reached for the shower controls, adjusting the temperature to perfection. Clarke stepped in first, letting the water drench her. Lexa followed, standing close behind her. The intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on either of them as they stood quietly under the spray, letting the warmth envelop them.

Clarke leaned back against Lexa, feeling the strength and comfort of her presence. Lexa's arms instinctively wrapped around Clarke's waist, pulling her in for a tender embrace. They stayed like that for a while, finding solace in each other’s company without the need for words.

After a few moments, Lexa grabbed a bottle of shampoo, lathering it into Clarke’s hair with gentle, circular motions. Clarke closed her eyes, enjoying the soothing touch as Lexa massaged her scalp. The gesture was simple yet filled with care, making Clarke feel cherished.

Once Clarke’s hair was rinsed, they switched roles, with Clarke washing Lexa’s hair. Her fingers worked through Lexa's dark locks, taking her time to ensure every strand was cleansed. Lexa tilted her head back, letting the water wash away the suds, a peaceful expression softening her features.

With their hair clean, they turned their attention to each other’s bodies, washing away the sweat and tension from the morning workout. Their movements were slow and deliberate, each touch a reminder of their connection.

When they finally stepped out of the shower, the air was thick with steam, and their skin glowed with warmth. They wrapped themselves in plush towels, patting each other dry. Lexa leaned in, placing a soft kiss on Clarke's forehead, and whispered, "Thank you for this."

Clarke smiled, her eyes shining with affection. "It was exactly what I needed."

Dressed in comfortable clothes, they made their way to the kitchen. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as Lexa prepared a simple yet hearty breakfast. They sat across from each other at the table, enjoying the meal in a comfortable silence, the morning’s activities leaving them both content and connected.

After breakfast, Octavia strolled by, her swimsuit clinging snugly to her form, a towel draped casually over her shoulder. Her hair was damp, still glistening from an earlier dip. "Heading out for a swim," she announced with a quick smile as she passed Clarke and Lexa, making her way to the pool with a relaxed ease.

Lexa turned toward Clarke, her expression soft but slightly apologetic. "I need to get some work done," she said gently, indicating the stack of papers waiting for her. "It shouldn’t take too long."

Clarke nodded, her smile reassuring. "That’s fine. I think I’ll relax on one of the loungers for a bit."

Lexa's eyes softened with appreciation. "Good. You deserve it."

Clarke gathered a book and her sunglasses, heading out to the sunlit terrace. The warmth embraced her as she stepped outside, the wooden deck beneath her feet radiating a comforting heat. She walked toward the row of sun loungers, each perfectly positioned to catch the sun’s rays. She chose one in the center, its cushions inviting and soft, and reclined with a sigh of contentment. The sun kissed her skin, and she adjusted her sunglasses, settling into the warmth. Opening her book, she let her eyes drift over the words, but her gaze frequently wandered back to Lexa.

Lexa, meanwhile, set up at a table nearby, her work materials spread out in neat stacks. She sat with a straight posture, her eyes scanning the documents with an intense focus. Occasionally, she made notes in the margins, her pen moving swiftly across the paper. The golden light of the sun highlighted her features, casting soft shadows across her face. Every so often, she glanced up from her work, her eyes finding Clarke lounging on the chair, serene and radiant in the morning sun.

The terrace was peaceful, the air filled with the soothing sounds of nature—the rustle of leaves, the distant chirping of birds, and the gentle splash of water as Octavia moved through the pool. Raven and Anya were nowhere to be seen, their absence adding to the stillness of the scene. Clarke, reclined in her lounger, allowed the tranquility to wash over her, feeling completely at ease under the warmth of the sun. Lexa, though immersed in her work, found solace in the presence of Clarke, the calm morning weaving a quiet intimacy between them.

Lexa spent the rest of the morning, and the entire afternoon deeply engrossed in her work. Seated at a table on the terrace, she sifted through piles of scripts, and notes, her focus unwavering. Occasionally, she would pause to type out an email, her expression a mix of concentration and determination. The world around her seemed to fade as she dedicated herself to the tasks at hand, the steady hum of her work forming a quiet backdrop to the day.

Clarke, in contrast, embraced a day of relaxation and light-heartedness. She moved between the comfort of a sun lounger on the terrace, the pages of her book capturing her attention, and the cool, inviting waters of the pool. The warm sun kissed her skin as she read, and when she felt the need to stretch, she would join Octavia for a swim. The two women laughed and chatted, their voices mingling with the sounds of water splashing and the rustling of the trees around them.

Octavia, ever energetic, swam vigorous laps in the pool, her powerful strokes cutting through the water. She enjoyed the physical exertion, the feel of the water against her skin, and the rhythmic movement that cleared her mind. Every so often, she would take a break, floating lazily or joining Clarke for a brief conversation, their camaraderie evident in their easy banter.

Clarke alternated her time between reading and swimming, finding joy in both. When she wasn’t immersed in the fictional worlds of her book, she would recline back on the lounger, allowing the sun to dry her after a refreshing dip. Her eyes would often drift to Lexa, admiring the way she threw herself into her work. Clarke appreciated these moments of quiet observation, feeling a deep affection as she watched Lexa in her element.

As the afternoon stretched on, Clarke and Octavia continued to enjoy their leisurely activities, the gentle rhythm of their day punctuated by laughter and the occasional splash. Lexa, although immersed in her work, occasionally glanced up, catching glimpses of Clarke and Octavia enjoying themselves. These moments brought a small, satisfied smile to her lips, knowing that Clarke was happy and at ease.

Clarke, feeling a pleasant weariness from the day's activities, stretched out on her lounger, content. She glanced over at Lexa, who was still deep in her work, and a soft smile spread across her face. Despite their separate engagements, there was a comfort in being near each other, sharing the same space even in their different pursuits.

As the evening settled in, Lexa stood up from her work, stretching her arms above her head. She turned to Clarke, who was lounging on one of the chairs nearby, flipping through a book. "I need to get ready for the talk show interview," Lexa said. Clarke stood up too and walked with Lexa toward their shared bedroom. "My stylist and makeup artist will be here soon. Just a reminder—I’m not out of the closet," she added gently, her tone cautious yet firm. "So, I'll be changing in another room."

Clarke nodded, understanding the complexities Lexa had to navigate in her public life. "Is there anything specific I should wear?" she asked, unsure if she needed to dress up for the occasion.

Lexa smiled, her eyes softening. "No, just something comfortable. You'll be behind the scenes, so no need to worry about that." Her smile lingered for a moment before she turned and disappeared into the adjoining room to prepare.

Shortly after, a flamboyantly dressed man and a sleek, stylish woman arrived, each carrying cases of makeup and styling tools. Clarke assumed the man was likely gay, given his mannerisms and flair, though she kept her thoughts to herself. They both entered the room where Lexa was getting ready, their professionalism apparent as they got straight to work.

Clarke decided to take a quick shower, rinsing off the remnants of the day's activities—chlorine from the pool and sunscreen from the sun-soaked terrace. She chose a pair of well-worn jeans and a simple, soft T-shirt, prioritizing comfort. As she towel-dried her hair, she caught the sound of faint laughter from Lexa’s room, a sign of her easing into the preparations.

When Lexa finally emerged, Clarke was caught off guard. Lexa was stunning, clad in a form-fitting dress that accentuated her figure, with delicate gold jewelry adding a touch of elegance. Her hair was styled in soft waves, cascading down her shoulders, and her makeup was impeccably done, highlighting her striking features. Clarke’s breath hitched, and she could barely whisper, "Wow."

Her reaction was instant and unguarded, but she quickly remembered the need for discretion. She glanced away, her cheeks warming with a blush. Lexa noticed and, with a knowing smile, relished the effect she had on Clarke. It was a small but satisfying reminder of their connection.

As they walked toward the waiting car, Lexa’s hand brushed lightly against Clarke’s, a subtle reassurance amidst the need for secrecy. Once seated in the car, Lexa turned to Clarke, her voice low but filled with meaning. "The interview will focus on my latest film and, of course, Bjorn. But I want you to know," she paused, her eyes meeting Clarke’s, "whenever I talk about him, I’m really thinking of you."

Clarke felt her heart flutter at Lexa’s words. Despite the public charade, Lexa's words held a private truth, a message meant only for her. She nodded, a small smile creeping onto her face, comforted by Lexa’s quiet affirmation of their bond, even as they prepared to navigate the complexities of the public eye.

When Lexa and Clarke arrived at the talk show studio, the atmosphere was already buzzing. The show was live, and the host, an older man with a jovial demeanor, was cracking jokes in front of the enthusiastic live audience. The sound of laughter and applause filled the space as the crew moved about, preparing for the next segment. Lexa and Clarke stood behind the curtains, watching, waiting. An assistant hurried over, looking at her watch. “Right on time. You’re up next,” she said, and Lexa nodded with a small smile.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our next guest is someone you all know,” the host's voice rang out, drawing the audience’s attention. “Please welcome the one and only, Alexandra Woods!” The crowd erupted into applause, their cheers almost deafening. Clarke gave Lexa a final smile, trying to offer her some quiet reassurance. Lexa’s eyes met hers for a moment before she stepped forward, her posture straightening as she walked out onto the stage. The audience’s reaction only grew louder, their excitement palpable.

Lexa walked confidently over to the host, giving him a warm hug like they were old friends. “Alexandra, thank you so much for being here tonight!” he exclaimed, and they both took their seats across from each other.

“Thank you for having me! It’s always a pleasure to be here,” Lexa replied, her voice calm and composed, with a bright smile.

The host nodded. “Let’s dive into your latest project, Into the Storm. It’s already been a massive success. How does it feel to be part of such a hit film?”

Lexa’s smile widened, her passion for the project shining through as she responded, “It feels amazing! Into the Storm was an incredible experience to work on. The team was so dedicated, and we all knew we were making something special. It’s really gratifying to see that the audience loves it as much as we did while making it.”

“I’ve heard you did a lot of your own stunts for this film. Is that true?” the host asked, leaning in slightly as if he were about to uncover a juicy secret.

“Yes, it’s true!” Lexa confirmed enthusiastically. “I love challenges, and doing my own stunts gave me a chance to really immerse myself in the character. Of course, we had an amazing stunt team who made sure everything was safe, but it was a thrilling experience.”

“That’s impressive! But I have to ask—there’s been a lot of buzz about your boyfriend, Bjorn, recently. How’s it been navigating your relationship in the public eye?” the host inquired, clearly eager to get some juicy details. He leaned forward, trying to make it seem like he was letting the audience in on a secret.

Lexa took a sip of water, composing herself before answering with a soft chuckle. “Ah, Bjorn. Yeah, it’s been... interesting. We’re both really busy, but we do our best to find time for each other. He’s incredibly supportive, and we try to keep our private lives as private as possible.”

“And how did you two meet? Was it on a movie set? Or maybe at a Hollywood party? After all, he’s from Scandinavia, right?” the host asked, his curiosity piqued.

Lexa nodded, pausing for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. “Yeah, he’s from Scandinavia. But we actually met in a bar. I was out…” She hesitated for a second before adding, “…with some friends, and Bjorn didn’t know who I was. I think he was a bit of an outsider when it came to Hollywood and all the celebrities around. It was actually kind of refreshing that he didn’t recognize me right away.”

The host grinned. “That sounds like a fantastic start to a relationship! What was it that caught your attention about him?”

Lexa laughed softly, her eyes twinkling. “Besides his natural charm? I have to admit, I was quickly taken with his blonde hair and deep blue eyes. There was something very genuine and calming about him. And he’s an incredibly talented artist. His perspective on the world is something truly special. I love witnessing the way he sees things.”

“He sounds like a dream!” the host said, grinning. “Do you think his calm demeanor helps keep things grounded for you?”

Lexa nodded, her expression softening. “Absolutely. It’s so important to have someone who doesn’t just see you as a celebrity. He keeps me grounded, and I love hearing his perspectives on art and life, without it being all about Hollywood.”

“That’s wonderful to hear,” the host responded warmly. “Alexandra, we’re all so excited for your film and to see what the future holds for you. Thank you for sharing your time with us tonight!”

“Thank you for having me. It’s been a pleasure,” Lexa replied with a genuine smile.

“And that was Alexandra Woods, everyone! Be sure to catch Into the Storm in theaters now! Stay tuned, we’ll be back after the break!” the host said to the applause of the audience. As the camera stopped rolling and the live broadcast ended, the host stood up and shook Lexa’s hand quickly. They exchanged a few quick words before he disappeared offstage, heading for the backstage area to grab a drink. Lexa, meanwhile, walked over to the audience area, where a few fans had gathered to ask for autographs. She smiled politely, signing a few posters and chatting briefly with her supporters.

Clarke stood quietly in the backstage area, trying her best to blend into the shadows while Lexa finished her interview. The live audience was buzzing with excitement, and the sound of clapping and cheers from the studio filtered through the door. Clarke took a deep breath, she was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that she was here, at this talk show, supporting Lexa. Alexandra, really.

Just then, the host appeared from behind the curtains, his eyes scanning the area before landing on Clarke.

“Ah, you must be Alexandra’s assistant,” the man said dismissively.

Without even looking at her, he waved his hand toward a table across the room, where a few bottles of water were lined up. “Could you grab me one of those?”

Clarke hesitated for a moment, then, against her better judgment, walked over to the table and picked up a bottle. She handed it to the host, her mind racing with the uncomfortable feeling of being treated like an afterthought. Her eyes staying neutral as she tried not to let his behavior affect her.

“I’ve known Alexandra for years,” the man continued, his tone condescending as he looked Clarke up and down, his gaze lingering just a bit too long. “And for some reason, she always has the most beautiful young women as assistants.”

Clarke kept her expression neutral, despite feeling the heat rising in her cheeks. She gave a tight smile. “Really?” her voice polite but barely masking her irritation. She just wanted to get this awkward exchange over with.

“Yeah,” he said with a smirk, clearly enjoying the power he had in this moment. His gaze still lingering too long on her. “But they always disappear in the end. Probably because she can’t give them what all beautiful women truly want... attention.” Clarke’s stomach twisted, a wave of nausea rising in her chest. He took a step closer to Clarke, his tone laced with a hint of arrogance. "If you ever want to try something different, I’m in need of a personal assistant with a lot of opportunities, if you know what I mean." Clarke’s heart sank. The offer was lewd, degrading, and completely inappropriate. She opened her mouth to respond, to set the record straight, when the sound of Lexa’s voice broke through the tension.

“I see you’ve met my good friend, Clarke,” Lexa said loudly, stepping between them with an air of confidence. Her eyes locked onto the man with a sharp intensity that made him step back a little, caught off guard by the interruption.

The man blinked, clearly thrown off by the sudden disruption. “Your... friend? I thought she was your assistant?” he asked, confusion flickering across his face as he looked between Clarke and Lexa.

“No,” Lexa replied, her voice calm but sharp. “Clarke is an artist. I met her through Luna Wagner. You know Luna, right? The art collector from New York?”

The man’s expression shifted slightly as recognition seemed to dawn on him. He nodded, though still unsure of how to react. “Ah, right, I know who she is…” he muttered, still unsure of what was happening.

“Luna introduced Clarke to me and Bjorn at an event a while back,” Lexa continued smoothly, her smile easy but her tone unwavering. “Bjorn is also an artist, if you remember.” She gave a small, casual smile, as if to downplay the situation. “Clarke and I became friends after that. She’s incredibly talented. You should see her work. I even have one of her pieces hanging in my living room.”

Clarke’s cheeks flushed slightly as Lexa spoke, but she kept her composure. The man looked at her now in a completely different way, his demeanor suddenly much more deferential.

“I... I’d love to see one of your pieces sometime,” the man said, now clearly trying to make up for his earlier rudeness. His voice was softer, almost apologetic.

“Of course,” Clarke replied, her tone polite. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to engage with him any more than necessary.

Lexa, sensing the tension was finally breaking, nodded toward Clarke and gave the man a curt smile. “Well, it’s been a pleasure talking to you,” she said, her voice laced with finality.

With that, Lexa turned to leave with Clarke. They walked together, leaving the man standing there, still trying to piece together what had just happened. As they moved toward the exit, Clarke exhaled sharply, feeling the weight of the situation lift slightly off her shoulders.

Once they were outside, away from the noise of the studio, Lexa stopped and looked at Clarke with a small, knowing smile. “You okay?” she asked, her voice soft but concerned.

Clarke met her gaze, feeling the tension from earlier still lingering, but now, with Lexa beside her, it felt more manageable. “Yeah,” she said, her voice steady. “Thanks for that. I... I didn’t know how to handle it.”

Lexa squeezed her hand, her expression warm but protective. “I’ve got you,” she said simply, her voice filled with sincerity. “Always.”

Clarke smiled, feeling a wave of warmth at the simple reassurance as they got into the car.

Lexa glanced over at Clarke as they made their way through the quiet streets of the neighborhood, the soft hum of the car filling the air. "Would you like to see my house before we head back to the beach house?" she asked, her voice casual but her eyes hinting at something deeper, a sense of wanting to share more of herself.

Clarke, her curiosity piqued, smiled and nodded. “Yes, I’d love to.”

Lexa smiled back, giving the driver a small nod to turn down a street lined with towering hedges and grand gates. The neighborhood was exclusive, the houses grand and sophisticated, set back behind long driveways that seemed to stretch on forever. The road felt private, almost surreal, as though they had entered a world of their own.

As they drove further into the area, Clarke couldn’t help but glance around in awe. The homes were massive, each one a testament to wealth and success, designed with modern touches and sprawling yards. The car finally slowed and pulled up to a large, contemporary house. Its sleek, minimalist design was softened by lush greenery surrounding it, offering both elegance and a sense of peace.

“Wow, it’s incredible,” Clarke whispered, her eyes wide as she took in the clean lines and vast windows that seemed to invite the outdoors in. “This is beautiful.”

Lexa’s smile deepened, her eyes lighting up as she looked at Clarke. “Thanks. Come on inside,” she said, leading Clarke up the stairs and through the front door, her fingers brushing against Clarke’s lightly.

Inside, the house was a testament to taste and restraint. High ceilings, large open spaces, and floor-to-ceiling windows gave the home a sense of openness and calm. The decor was minimalist but striking, with modern art pieces on the walls and furniture that seemed to float in the space. It was a home that felt very much like a display of Lexa’s success.

Lexa led Clarke through the living room, a space that felt both grand and welcoming, before pausing in front of a large painting hanging on the far wall. Clarke’s eyes immediately locked on it. It was an image of Earth seen through a spaceship’s window, the deep blues and greens of the planet striking against the infinite black of space. The small shadow of a person could just be seen in the corner, their figure barely visible but powerful in its suggestion.

Clarke’s breath caught in her throat. She stared at the painting, her heart racing. She knew that image. It was her work. “That’s... that’s my painting,” she murmured, almost to herself, before her eyes flicked to Lexa, disbelief flooding her chest.

Lexa smiled softly, her voice tender as she explained, “It’s a painting by an artist who’s going to be very well known—Clarke Griffin. It’s called ‘The Artist’s Window.’”

Clarke stood frozen for a moment, the realization washing over her. Then, without thinking, she stepped forward and kissed Lexa. It wasn’t a kiss of passion—it was a kiss of gratitude, of recognition. It was the kiss of someone who saw how deeply Lexa understood her, how much she believed in her, how Lexa had seen her in a way no one else had.

Lexa kissed her back, pulling her close, her arms wrapping around Clarke as the world seemed to disappear. The kiss lingered, quiet and intimate, before they slowly pulled away, both of them breathing a little faster, their hearts beating in unison.

“I wanted to show you that,” Lexa said softly, her thumb brushing against Clarke’s cheek. “You’re a part of me, Clarke. Your art... it means so much to me.”

Clarke smiled, her heart full as she looked at Lexa, seeing her in a new light. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I never imagined I’d see my work in a place like this.”

Lexa grinned and gently pulled Clarke through the rest of the house, showing her the gallery of carefully curated artwork, the kitchen where she occasionally entertained, and the cozy reading nook by the window. The house was beautiful, yes, but it was the way Lexa shared it with her, the way she allowed Clarke to step into her life so effortlessly, that made it feel like home.

After touring the house, they made their way back to the car, the drive back to the beach house quieter than before, both of them reflecting on the moment they had just shared. When they arrived at the stand-alone beach house, it felt like the perfect ending to an evening that had deepened their bond.

Their friends were all waiting for them with dinner

The evening was calm as they all gathered around the dinner table, the scent of home-cooked food filling the air. Raven and Anya had returned from wherever they had disappeared to, both of them slightly flushed in the cheeks, as if something had transpired between them. They ate in silence, neither of them acknowledging each other, while Clarke and Lexa couldn’t seem to tear their eyes away from one another. They held hands throughout the entire meal, their fingers intertwined, and their quiet connection spoke volumes, even though words were few.

Octavia, always perceptive, glanced between the two women. Her eyes flickered between Raven and Anya, and then back to Clarke and Lexa, trying to figure out what exactly was going on. The atmosphere felt charged, but no one was willing to break the silence with questions. They ate their meal, occasionally exchanging brief glances or silent smiles, but the conversation didn’t flow.

It wasn’t until Anya finally spoke that the stillness was broken. “Tomorrow night, there’s the premiere of Bad Boys for Life,” she began, casually. “Octavia’s been hired as a bodyguard for the artist Niylah, so she’ll be there. Lexa, of course, will be attending with Bjorn, but… I’ve actually managed to get tickets for both Clarke and Raven as well. So we can all go together.”

Clarke looked up, startled. “Really?” she asked, her voice a mix of surprise and curiosity. She hadn’t expected to be included in such a high-profile event. Her eyes flicked to Lexa for a moment, searching for reassurance, but Lexa just gave her a small, encouraging smile.

Raven raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard by the invitation. “How did you manage that?” she asked, her tone laced with curiosity.

Anya leaned back slightly, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Well, I happen to owe Bjorn’s manager, Titus, a favor now. But I’m sure it’ll be worth it. We all deserve a night out,” she said with a small smile, the playful glint in her eyes not going unnoticed.

Lexa, intrigued but not overly surprised, leaned back slightly. “Really?” she asked, glancing over at Anya. “Titus?”

Anya gave a single, nonchalant shrug. “Yes, really,” she replied, looking back at Clarke. “And I think everyone could use a little fun, don’t you think?”

The table fell into a moment of quiet contemplation before the evening continued, their shared understanding of the situation making everything seem easier.

Soon enough, everyone said their goodnights. Lexa and Clarke made their way to their room, where the quiet intimacy between them filled the space. They undressed, and without a word, crawled into bed, their bodies naturally gravitating toward one another. They fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms, the comforting warmth of the other person making the world outside seem distant. Clarke’s heart beat softly against Lexa’s chest, and Lexa’s steady breath filled Clarke’s mind with peace as she drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

Clarke woke up alone. Again. She reached out instinctively, her hand finding only the cool, empty sheets where Lexa should have been. A small sigh escaped her lips as she sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The room was bathed in the soft, early morning light filtering through the curtains, but it felt cold and still without Lexa's presence.

She glanced at the clock; it was still early. Too early for Lexa to have already gone through her entire morning routine, but the cold sheets suggested otherwise. Clarke contemplated going back to sleep, the idea of curling back under the warm blankets tempting her. But just as she lay back down, the door creaked open.

Lexa stepped in, her damp hair hanging loose around her shoulders, a light sheen on her skin indicating she had already worked out and showered. She moved with her usual grace, her outfit casual but impeccably chosen, a testament to her natural elegance.

"You're up early," Clarke said, her voice thick with sleep, a mixture of surprise and curiosity in her tone.

Lexa offered a small, apologetic smile. "Yeah," she replied, walking over to the dresser and picking up a few items. "Anya called super early. Titus has already called in the favor he did for Anya. He wants Bjorn and me to go on a breakfast date so the press will talk about us all day before the premiere."

Clarke watched Lexa move around the room, her gaze following every step. The way Lexa's shoulders held a slight tension didn't go unnoticed. Clarke felt a twinge of something she couldn't quite name—perhaps it was frustration, or maybe it was jealousy masked as concern.

"Okay," Clarke said, her tone carefully controlled, though a hint of disappointment lingered in her words.

Lexa continued; her voice softer now, almost as if she was thinking aloud. "Titus also insisted that we be seen leaving my house together later, making it look like Bjorn practically lives there."

Clarke swung her legs over the side of the bed, sitting up straight. Her eyes narrowed slightly, her mind racing with the implications. "So, you're going on a date with him soon, and then you'll be with him all day until the premiere tonight?" There was a sharpness to her voice now, a subtle challenge that Clarke couldn't quite suppress.

Lexa paused, sensing Clarke's rising tension. She turned to face her, meeting Clarke's eyes with a soft, regretful expression. "My stylist and makeup artist are already on their way to my place. I have to head back now to get ready for the date," Lexa explained, her voice tinged with an unspoken apology.

"So, you'll be gone all day?" Clarke's question hung heavily in the room, weighted by the emotions she tried to keep at bay.

"Unfortunately, yes," Lexa admitted, stepping closer to Clarke. She reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against Clarke's cheek. "But we'll see each other tonight. You have an invitation now. It’ll be fun."

Clarke nodded slowly, though her expression remained unreadable. Lexa leaned in, placing a tender kiss on Clarke’s cheek, lingering for just a moment longer than usual. "We’ll have a great time, I promise," she whispered.

Clarke's gaze followed Lexa as she moved towards the door, her heart caught in the storm of conflicting emotions. "See you tonight, beautiful," Lexa said softly, offering one last smile before slipping out of the room, the door closing behind her with a quiet finality.

Clarke remained seated on the bed, staring at the closed door. The silence of the room was deafening, her thoughts swirling with a mixture of longing, frustration, and a touch of sadness as she tried to shake off the emptiness Lexa’s departure left behind.

Clarke lay back down, pulling the blanket up to her chin as she stared at the ceiling. The emptiness beside her felt almost tangible, the absence of Lexa's warmth a stark reminder of how alone she was. Her mind replayed their conversation from earlier, the way Lexa had kissed her cheek before leaving, the hint of regret in her voice.

Clarke sighed, her heart heavy with a mix of longing and frustration. She knew this was part of Lexa’s life, the demands of her career pulling her in different directions, but it didn’t make the loneliness any easier to bear. She closed her eyes, trying to summon the strength to get up, but the bed was too tempting, too comforting in its familiarity.

The muffled sounds of the house slowly waking up filtered through the walls—the soft patter of footsteps, the distant hum of conversation, the clinking of dishes. They were small, ordinary noises, but they reminded her she wasn’t entirely alone. Somewhere in the house, her friends were starting their day, their presence a quiet reassurance.

Eventually, Clarke sighed again, this time more resolute. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet meeting the cool floor with a slight shiver. Moving slowly, she wrapped herself in a soft robe and made her way out of the bedroom, her steps quiet in the early morning stillness.

The warmth of the sun greeted her as she walked down the hallway, its golden light casting a gentle glow on the walls. When she entered the kitchen, the comforting aroma of fresh coffee greeted her, mingling with the soft murmur of conversation. Raven and Octavia were already seated at the table, their mugs in hand, engaged in quiet chatter.

Octavia looked up as Clarke entered, her expression brightening with a welcoming smile. "Morning," she said, her voice warm and easy.

Clarke returned the smile, though it felt a bit strained around the edges. She made her way to the counter, pouring herself a cup of coffee and savoring the warmth of the mug in her hands. The familiar ritual brought a sense of normalcy, a small anchor in the sea of her swirling emotions.

She took a seat at the table across from her friends, the weight of their quiet presence a balm to her unsettled heart. Clarke listened to the gentle rhythm of their conversation, the ebb and flow of their words providing a soothing backdrop as she sipped her coffee. In this moment, surrounded by friends and the simple pleasures of a new day, she found a semblance of peace amidst the ache of Lexa’s absence.

"What are we doing today?" Clarke asked, glancing around at Octavia, Raven, and Anya, her voice tinged with curiosity and hope for some shared plans.

"Oh, I’m heading out shortly," Octavia said hesitantly, a note of apology creeping into her tone. Clarke's expression shifted to one of mild surprise, but she didn’t say anything right away.

"I’ve got that bodyguard job tonight, so I need to meet up with the security team and go through everything today. We’ll cover security procedures, the layout of the venue, emergency exits, potential crisis points, all that stuff," Octavia explained, her tone a mix of apology for leaving and excitement for her new responsibilities.

"Of course. You have a job to do," Clarke replied, forcing a supportive smile, though a hint of disappointment flickered in her eyes.

"So, it’s just us today, huh, Raven?" Clarke added, turning her gaze to Raven with a hopeful expression, eager for some company.

"I’m actually taking Raven today," Anya interjected quickly, her words rushing out as if she wanted to prevent Clarke from getting her hopes up. Clarke looked at her, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I’ve got a lot of work to do before the party tonight, and I convinced Raven to help me with… some of it," Anya said, her voice slightly awkward, as though searching for the right words.

"Uh… yeah, we’ve got plenty of… work… to get through," Raven added, her tone uncertain, as she exchanged a quick glance with Anya, a silent conversation passing between them that Clarke couldn’t quite decipher.

"Okay…" Clarke said slowly, her voice soft, processing the sudden change in plans. Something felt off, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

"Part of the work includes picking up the outfits we’ll wear tonight, so we can all get ready together later," Anya added hastily, trying to smooth over the situation.

"Yeah, we’ll be back later to get ready, and until then, you can just relax and do whatever you want," Raven chimed in, her tone upbeat, clearly trying to lift Clarke’s spirits.

"Yeah, you’ll have the whole house to yourself, and I’ll make sure you get some delicious lunch delivered," Anya said persuasively, a reassuring smile on her face as if that would make up for their absence.

"That sounds really nice," Octavia said quietly, offering her support with a gentle tone.

Clarke didn’t respond right away, just looking at her friends as they smiled at her in a mixture of reassurance and persuasion. They were clearly trying to make her feel better about being left behind, but despite their efforts, Clarke couldn’t shake the feeling of being sidelined.

Clarke sat on the sofa, scrolling through her phone aimlessly. Her thoughts were clouded, her mind not fully on the screen in front of her. She had just waved Octavia off. Anya was walking around the room, gathering her things and talking on the phone. Clarke’s attention drifted to her, noticing how Anya’s voice filled the space, contrasting with the stillness Clarke felt.

"Hey, Tony? Yeah, I’d like to order some lunch. Yes, just for one. Yes, exactly, just one person," Anya said, her tone light, but Clarke felt a small knot form in her stomach at the mention of ‘one’.

She watched as Anya paced back and forth, continuing her conversation with Tony. "No, no, not Alexandra. Yes, exactly, just for one person. Thanks so much, I appreciate it. Great. Bye."

Clarke’s eyes followed Anya as she hung up, and Anya turned toward Raven, giving her a nod. Clarke felt a flicker of jealousy, irrational as it was. Raven and Anya were together today, and soon enough, they would be leaving her behind.

“Alright, we’re headed out. See you later, Clarke,” Raven said, offering a small wave. Anya followed, heading toward the door, and just like that, the house was silent once more. The door clicked shut behind them, and Clarke was left alone, the echo of the empty space filling her senses.

She glanced at her phone again, but the words seemed to blur. She was here, by herself. The contrast between the busy world around her and her solitude felt like it was closing in, and Clarke had to take a deep breath to calm the tightness in her chest.

Clarke tried to occupy herself with the same things she enjoyed yesterday—swimming in the pool, relaxing in the sun, reading outside—but everything felt hollow. The warmth of the sun on her skin did little to ease the tightness in her chest, and the peacefulness she usually found in these activities seemed distant, unreachable. Each time she tried to focus, her thoughts relentlessly circled back to Lexa and the date she was on with Bjorn. Clarke could easily imagine them together, holding hands, sharing a kiss, their laughter filling the air. The thought twisted in her gut, sharp and painful.

Restlessly, she moved around the house, hoping to distract herself. She passed the TV several times, her mind tempting her to turn on one of the gossip channels. She could see it now—pictures of Lexa and Bjorn, the two of them laughing, gazing into each other’s eyes. The urge to know was almost overwhelming, but she couldn’t do it. She knew seeing them would only make the ache deeper. She turned away, her feet carrying her through the house, until she found herself in the gym.

Clarke didn’t think, she just moved. Her fists slammed into the punching bag, the rhythm of the hits grounding her in the present moment. The sound of each punch echoed in the empty room, like a release of everything she couldn’t say, every feeling she couldn’t bear to face. With every hit, the frustration, the anger, the jealousy, bled out of her. But still, it wasn’t enough. Her hands moved faster, harder, each blow an attempt to fight off the chaos inside.

Eventually, her body gave in. She slowed, breathing heavy, her arms aching, but the storm in her mind still raged on. She slid down the wall, exhausted, letting her head fall into her hands. It was the kind of weariness that settled deep in her bones, not just physical, but emotional, too. Sitting there, in the dim silence of the gym, her thoughts churned endlessly. She felt so alone, even though she was surrounded by luxury, by people who cared for her. The weight of it all pressed down on her, and for a moment, it felt like she was suffocating in her own solitude.

After what felt like an eternity, she stood up, determined to shake off the despair. She needed to do something, anything, to stop feeling like she was drowning. She stumbled toward the bathroom, the coolness of the shower offering a small comfort as the water cascaded over her, washing away the physical tension. But the emotional ache remained, gnawing at her insides, and she knew it would be there for a while.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, the sound of the doorbell sliced through the silence. It was jarring in the stillness of the house, but she made her way to the door. She opened the door to find a man standing there, holding a bag of food, his polite smile feeling like a reminder of the world she was trying to avoid.

"Delivery for Ms. Griffin," he said, his tone pleasant, but the distance between them felt immense.

Clarke nodded, taking the bag from him. She thanked him quietly and closed the door, the weight of the empty house pressing in on her again. The solitude felt more profound now, like a vast, unending silence. She walked back toward the kitchen, the bag of food in her hands, but all she could think about was how alone she felt, how she couldn’t escape the emptiness inside.

Clarke was eating the delicious lunch, but the taste did little to ease the tight ache in her chest. Despite the food, she couldn't shake the weight of the day, the emptiness that seemed to swallow her whole. It was frustrating. Why was she letting herself feel so lost, so small? She was better than this!

Her frustration grew, and she suddenly stood up from the table, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. She couldn't sit still anymore, couldn't wallow in this self-pity any longer. Clarke stormed through the house, opening every drawer, searching through cabinets, as though the solution to her pain could be found in a forgotten corner. It wasn't long before her hands landed on what she was looking for: thick paper and paint.

Without a second thought, she moved to the center of the living room floor, spreading the paper out beneath her, setting the paintbrush in her hand. The motion was familiar, comforting in a way that nothing else had been today. Clarke felt something shift inside her as she began to paint, her strokes growing steadier with each pass. She could feel the tension slowly release from her shoulders as the colors and shapes filled the space before her.

The act of creating became her escape, her sanctuary. For the first time today, she found some peace. The rest of the world faded away as the images took shape beneath her hands. She lost track of time, absorbed in the rhythm of painting. Slowly, the living room around her filled with drying pictures, each one a fragment of her mind and heart, each one offering her a small, fleeting sense of clarity.

But then, the sound of the front door opening shattered her solitude. Clarke froze. Laughter filled the air, bright and warm—Anya’s distinctive laugh followed by Raven’s voice, telling some story. Clarke glanced up, momentarily stunned, as the noise interrupted the quiet space, she had built for herself. The sudden return of her friends felt both comforting and jarring, like a sudden intrusion into her fragile bubble of focus.

She didn’t move at first, unsure of how to feel, her emotions still tangled and raw. The laughter from the hallway echoed in the quiet house, drawing her attention back to the reality outside the sanctuary she had created. They were back.

“Wow. You’ve been busy,” Raven said, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of the living room. Clarke had lost herself completely in her work, and now the floor was littered with drying paintings, a chaotic sea of color and emotion. Anya’s expression, however, was different. Her face had tightened, her eyes scanning the room with a mix of concern and distaste, especially as they landed on the splotches of paint that marred the floor.

"We have some very expensive dresses in the car. Raven, maybe you can help Clarke clean up the room so we can use it," Anya said, her voice strained. She turned on her heel and walked briskly toward the door, clearly eager to get back to the task at hand. Clarke couldn’t help but feel a twinge of shame. It was as if she were a child caught in the act of mischief. Her fingers tightened into fists as she watched Anya leave, leaving her with the mess—her mess.

Raven, however, just shrugged, her demeanor calm and unaffected. She knelt down, carefully picking up Clarke’s paintings, handling them with the gentleness of someone who understood their value. Even so, Clarke felt an uncomfortable tightness in her chest. Watching Raven pack away her work, her escape, felt like something was being taken from her. Each piece that was moved seemed to push her back into the present, away from the only thing that had given her peace in hours. The paintings were her sanctuary, but now, they were being tucked away, just like the emotions she had poured into them.

Anya re-entered with the dresses, neatly wrapped in plastic, and laid them over a chair with a practiced hand. She then turned toward the kitchen, her sharp gaze scanning the room for any remnants of paint. Clarke could hear the soft sound of cloth on the floor as Anya wiped away each stain with a precision that spoke of her usual need for control. Clarke couldn't help but feel a flicker of resentment stir within her—resentment at the mess that had made her feel like an outsider, and resentment at how everything seemed to be under someone else’s command now.

The room, once a haven of creativity, felt cold and distant now, the vibrant chaos of her work swallowed up by the routine of cleaning and preparation. Clarke stood there, watching them, her chest tightening as the familiar weight of loneliness returned, the quiet hum of isolation sinking in deeper with each passing moment.

Once the room was finally cleared, Raven turned on some lively music and tried to coax Clarke into dancing. Raven moved around with infectious energy, clearly still in high spirits after the day spent with Anya. Even Anya, who had earlier been visibly displeased with the mess Clarke had created, seemed more relaxed now. She smiled faintly as she calmly laid out dresses and jewelry from the bags they had brought back.

Clarke quietly observed as Anya and Raven worked together. Anya carefully arranged the outfit Clarke was supposed to wear, ensuring everything was neatly placed in front of her. Clarke glanced down at her hands, noticing small traces of paint still clinging beneath her nails. She suddenly felt acutely aware of the remnants of her earlier creative chaos.

"Sorry, I need to clean my hands before I touch anything," Clarke mumbled, rising slowly as if trying to distance herself from the attention now focused on her.

"Good idea," Anya replied tersely, her eyes still fixed on the task at hand. With a nod and her head bowed, Clarke left the room, relieved to retreat to the solitude of the bathroom where she could thoroughly wash her hands.

Clarke entered the bathroom and meticulously scrubbed her hands, ensuring every speck of paint was washed away. She didn't want to give Anya any reason to point out a flaw. Once satisfied that her hands were spotless, she lingered by the sink, hesitant to return to the living room. The thought of facing the carefully curated scene waiting for her outside felt daunting.

Instead, Clarke pulled out her phone, which she hadn't checked in hours. It was a small escape, a way to delay reentering the world she felt slightly out of sync with.

There was a video from Lexa, sent half an hour ago. Clarke didn't hesitate to press play. The video began with Lexa standing close to the camera, clearly trying to balance it on something. After a moment, she stepped back, revealing herself fully. She was in her bedroom, the soft glow of warm lights accentuating the elegant décor. Lexa was seated on her bed, draped in an exquisite gown, her hair elegantly styled, makeup flawless, and adorned with stunning jewelry. The room around her was quiet, her solitude almost tangible.

Lexa picked up her guitar from beside her and began to play softly, her fingers moving gracefully over the strings. Her voice, gentle and heartfelt, filled the room as she sang for Clarke:

"Our secret moments in a crowded room
They got no idea about me and you
There is an indentation in the shape of you
Made your mark on me, a golden tattoo."

Her eyes lifted from the guitar, locking onto the camera as if trying to bridge the distance between them:

"All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation
My hands are shaking from holding back from you
All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting
My hands are shaking from all this."

A faint blush crept across Lexa's cheeks as she looked down again, her voice growing more intense, filled with unspoken emotion:

"Say my name and everything just stops
I don’t want you like a best friend
Only bought this dress so you could take it off
Take it off
Carve your name into my bedpost
‘Cause I don’t want you like a best friend
Only bought this dress so you could take it off
Take it off."

Lexa's eyes flicked to the side, her expression shifting as though she had heard something off-camera. She gently set the guitar down, rose from the bed, and moved to end the recording.

Clarke stared at her phone, her heart pounding. The video was over, but the message was unmistakably clear. The intimacy of Lexa’s gesture and the raw emotion in her voice resonated deeply, leaving Clarke feeling both overwhelmed and connected.

Clarke suddenly felt a surge of motivation to get ready for the party tonight and finally see Lexa. With renewed energy, she stepped out of the bathroom and headed back into the living room, ready to prepare herself for the evening ahead.

The music pulsed softly through the living room, creating a lively yet intimate atmosphere as Raven and Clarke slipped into their elegant dresses for the first time. The fabric clung perfectly, emphasizing their figures, and both couldn't help but admire themselves and each other in the mirror. The soft rustle of silk and the click of heels against the floor added to the anticipation of the evening ahead.

Anya, moving with practiced grace, adjusted the hem of her own gown as she spoke, her voice calm but filled with the authority of someone used to handling high-pressure situations. "Alright, here's the plan for tonight," she began, glancing at both Clarke and Raven to ensure they were paying attention. "It starts with the red carpet leading to the premiere. You won’t be walking that; it’s for the celebrities and the press frenzy."

Anya paused, smoothing a few wrinkles from her dress before continuing, her tone steady and reassuring. "If you want to watch the movie, you can, but the real event is afterward—the party. That’s when all the major players in the industry will gather. It's a prime networking opportunity, but more than that, it's about making an impression."

Raven nodded, adjusting a necklace that sparkled against her collarbone, while Clarke's eyes flicked to her reflection, her hands nervously smoothing her dress.

"Now, officially," Anya added with a slight smirk, "the paparazzi aren’t supposed to be part of the party. But we all know some photos will still find their way out, so remember, everything you do could be seen by the public. Behave accordingly."

Clarke felt a knot of anxiety in her stomach. "But," Anya continued, her voice softening with a warm smile, "this is also about enjoying yourselves. You deserve a fun night. So, let go a little, have fun, and make the most of it."

The room fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the background music. Clarke looked around, taking in the scene—Raven adjusting her earrings, Anya checking her clutch, and the faint scent of perfume that lingered in the air. For the first time all day, Clarke felt the stirrings of excitement, ready to step into the glamorous night that awaited them.

They decided to watch the film, mostly because both Raven and Clarke were eager to catch a glimpse of the red carpet. Not long after, they found themselves climbing into a sleek black car with tinted windows. The mood was upbeat, with the anticipation of the night’s events buzzing in the air. As they arrived at the event, the excitement escalated. A sea of people had gathered outside, their voices blending into a hum of energy, and the first celebrities were already stepping onto the iconic red carpet.

Anya led Clarke and Raven through a side entrance, a quieter, less glamorous route for the less prominent guests. The energy here was different; there were no flashing cameras, no photographers shouting for attention, but Clarke could still see the crowd and hear them growing louder as the stars made their appearances.

Clarke’s gaze was drawn to the red carpet, where the large crowd of fans had started to erupt in screams. Her heart sank as she saw Bjorn assisting Lexa out of a car. Lexa, dressed in the stunning gown from her video, looked every bit the picture of grace. Bjorn placed a hand gently on Lexa’s lower back, guiding her down the carpet as flashes from the cameras illuminated the scene.

Every now and then, they paused to pose for the photographers, their smiles radiant and perfectly timed. Lexa leaned in toward Bjorn, her expression soft, and they shared knowing glances, smiles that spoke of familiarity and connection. Clarke’s chest tightened, her eyes unwillingly following them as the two of them exchanged a kiss on the cheek, a moment captured by the cameras.

The sight struck Clarke with an unexpected wave of emotion, and she quickly averted her eyes, feeling her heart beat faster. She couldn't watch it anymore. She hurried toward the building, Raven close behind her, her footsteps matching Clarke’s quick pace. The moment felt too much to bear.

Inside the building, the atmosphere was a bit more subdued but still full of life. The reception hall buzzed with guests mingling, a blend of voices and soft laughter as people chatted before the movie began. Clarke took a deep breath, trying to push away the lingering feeling in her chest, but her mind was still racing, the image of Lexa and Bjorn from the red carpet refusing to leave her thoughts.

"Hey, I know it's tough, but things will be different at the party later," Raven said gently, her tone filled with understanding. "Then you’ll get to see her and talk to her."

Clarke glanced at Raven, trying to steady her emotions, but the pain in her chest was hard to ignore. She nodded quietly, forcing a smile. "Yeah... I guess," she murmured, her voice betraying her inner turmoil. The smile she gave Raven was weak, more of an effort than a reflection of how she actually felt.

Raven noticed the strain in Clarke's expression, but said nothing more. She just gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, trying to offer a sense of comfort.

"Now, let's just focus on the movie," Raven continued, her tone more upbeat. "Afterward, we'll have the party. It'll be fun, you'll see."

Clarke nodded again, still trying to shake off the knot in her stomach. It was hard to pretend like everything was fine when all she could think about was Lexa with Bjorn. But she didn’t want to bring the mood down, so she pushed her thoughts aside, at least for now. She took a deep breath, following Raven as they made their way into the theater. The sounds of the crowd faded as they entered, and Clarke did her best to immerse herself in the moment, even if it was just for a little while.

The movie dragged on, a mindless action film that Clarke couldn't care less about. She had forgotten just how much she disliked these kinds of movies when she agreed to watch it, and to make matters worse, Bjorn played one of the lead roles. For two and a half hours, Clarke sat in the dark theater, every scene just another chance to watch his smug face on the screen, his exaggerated expressions and the forced drama of his character only adding to her frustration. She couldn’t focus on the plot, her thoughts constantly drifting back to Lexa, and the image of her with Bjorn walking down the red carpet.

When the credits finally rolled, Clarke almost felt a sense of relief, but it was quickly replaced by that familiar knot in her stomach. The last thing she wanted to do was head to the party now. She wasn’t in the mood for it.

As the lights came up, Raven turned to Clarke with a smile, but Clarke could tell by the way Raven's eyes lingered on her that she wasn’t hiding her emotions well. Still, Raven didn't press, leading her toward the exit.

Clarke let out a deep breath as they stepped outside. The excitement in the air was palpable, but it did nothing to ease the tension she felt. The party felt like a chore now, something she had to endure before she could even think about seeing Lexa. She just hoped, somehow, things would feel different when they got there.

Clarke and Raven stepped into the grand event hall, greeted by a flood of chatter, clinking glasses, and the soft hum of upbeat music. The atmosphere was elegant. The room stretched out before them, with high ceilings adorned with sparkling chandeliers, and clusters of people in designer outfits scattered across the floor. Drinks flowed freely, and waiters weaved through the crowd with trays of hors d'oeuvres. Clarke’s senses were overwhelmed, but despite the grandeur around them, her eyes were searching for just one person.

Raven, full of energy and curiosity, looked around wide-eyed, clearly taking in the scene. She was a huge fan of Hollywood culture, the kind of person who followed award shows, and all the gossip about famous celebrities. She grinned, taking in the star-studded crowd. “This is amazing, Clarke!” she exclaimed, practically bouncing on her heels. “I mean, just look at all of these people. Do you see who’s here?!”

Clarke, however, barely heard her. She was too busy scanning the room, her heart hammering as she looked for one particular face. Raven’s enthusiasm buzzed in her ear, but Clarke's mind was elsewhere. She kept her gaze focused ahead, ignoring the famous faces Raven was pointing out and the laughter and music that surrounded them.

And then, there she was.

Clarke’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes locked onto Lexa across the room. The world around her seemed to fade out, the noise and movement disappearing for just a moment. Lexa stood in the center of the crowd, radiant as ever. She was still breathtaking. Her hair was styled to perfection, and Clarke couldn’t help but notice the way the light caught the subtle glow of her makeup, highlighting her features. There was a natural grace about her—like she belonged in this world, but at the same time, she stood out.

Clarke couldn’t stop staring. Lexa was engaged in a conversation with a group of people, laughing and effortlessly charming them with her smile, her eyes lighting up as she spoke. There was a certain warmth to her, an ease that made everything around her seem more genuine. But then, in the midst of the crowd, Lexa turned her head, and for a split second, their eyes met.

Clarke froze.

The world seemed to slow down. Lexa’s gaze held hers, locking in a moment of silent acknowledgment. Lexa’s lips parted slightly in a small, knowing smile. It wasn’t anything extravagant, just the subtle curve of her mouth, but it was enough to make Clarke’s chest tighten. That smile was meant for her—Lexa had seen her, across the room. And in that instant, the noise of the event, and the crowd didn’t matter. But then, as quickly as the moment arrived, Lexa turned her attention back to the group she was with, the smile slipping away. Clarke exhaled, her heart pounding in her chest.

Clarke knew it was going to be a long night if a simple smile from Lexa had this kind of effect on her. Despite all the effort to remain composed, Clarke couldn’t help but feel her breath catch when she saw Lexa laugh, her face lighting up in a way that made Clarke’s chest tighten. It wasn’t just the way Lexa looked, though that was enough to take anyone’s breath away—it was how she carried herself. With a quiet confidence, Lexa didn’t seem to notice the way people gravitated toward her, or how everyone seemed to be in awe of her presence.

As Clarke stood at the edge of the crowd, Raven chatting animatedly beside her, Clarke found herself growing increasingly restless. Her thoughts were tangled, emotions swirling in a storm of longing and confusion. Clarke wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

She tried to keep her focus on the music, the chatter, the people. But everything felt muted in comparison to the presence of Lexa across the room. It was like every other sound faded away when Clarke looked at her. Clarke needed to talk to her soon.

The night was just beginning.

Chapter Text

The premiere party buzzed with energy, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. Clarke stood at the edge of the room, lost in a small group of guests engaged in conversation. Her polite nods and occasional smiles were automatic, her mind elsewhere. Raven, however, was fully immersed in an animated discussion with a man involved in the technical side of filmmaking, eagerly thrusting her business card into his hand with bright enthusiasm.

But Clarke's focus was singular. Her gaze kept drifting to the center of the room where Lexa stood, radiant and composed, engaged in conversation with Bjorn and another man Clarke didn't recognize. Lexa's presence was magnetic, drawing attention without effort, her beauty illuminated by the soft, ambient lighting of the grand hall. The sight made Clarke's chest tighten with a mix of longing and frustration.

They had been here long enough that it felt deliberate—Lexa had seen her, Clarke was sure of it, yet she hadn’t come over. The unspoken distance between them was agonizing, a stark contrast to the intimacy they had shared the night before. The warmth of Lexa’s arms around her, the soft whispers before sleep—now, it felt like a dream compared to the cold reality of this room.

Clarke clenched her empty glass, the cool surface grounding her as her thoughts spiraled. The hesitation felt like a chain, binding her to the spot, keeping her from bridging the gap between them. She exhaled sharply, a mix of resignation and determination flooding her.

Setting the glass down on a nearby table with a soft clink, Clarke straightened her back, drawing in a breath that filled her with resolve. Enough was enough. She had waited long enough.

Her heart pounded as she stepped forward, each movement deliberate, her gaze fixed on Lexa. Every stride felt like shedding a layer of doubt, each step pushing her closer to the moment she knew she couldn’t avoid. Clarke’s pulse quickened, anticipation and nerves mingling in her veins.

Lexa stood with Bjorn, deep in conversation with Steel, one of Hollywood’s top directors. She had worked with him on numerous occasions and had always enjoyed their professional relationship. Bjorn, however, was still trying to find his place in the industry. Lexa genuinely liked him. He was a perfect companion to show the world—handsome, charming, and fitting the image of what she needed in the public eye. It wasn’t that she had any deep feelings for him, but he served his purpose, and he never questioned the nature of their arrangement. He was a good partner in their staged romance, and she couldn’t deny that she wanted to help him make the right connections. She was in the middle of telling Steel about how wonderful Bjorn was, tossing in a few jokes about her own bias as his girlfriend.

In the middle of the conversation, Clarke walked up beside Lexa. Without thinking, she laid her hand on Lexa’s hip, feeling the warmth of her body beneath her palm. It was familiar, intimate, and it made Clarke’s heart race slightly in excitement. But as soon as the contact was made, Lexa stiffened, her body tense under Clarke's touch.

Clarke, sensing nothing amiss, simply smiled at Lexa. "Hey, Alexandra."

Lexa’s gaze flickered nervously between Clarke and the two men standing next to them. Her breath caught in her throat as she registered the eyes that were now on them—Steel’s, Bjorn’s, and others around them. She could feel the subtle shift in the air, the subtle weight of being watched. The public nature of the event, the cameras, the attention—it made her skin prickle with discomfort.

Clarke didn’t seem to notice the change, her hand resting lightly on Lexa’s side, oblivious to the growing tension. Lexa’s pulse quickened, and she shifted slightly, glancing at Steel and Bjorn, both of whom were watching her now. Steel’s gaze lingered on the place where Clarke’s hand rested on Lexa’s hip for a beat too long, and it only made the discomfort grow. Lexa felt like she was on display, her personal space invaded in a way that felt wrong here, in front of so many eyes.

Clarke felt the eyes on them too and introduced herself, still standing close beside Lexa, “I’m Clarke. A friend of Alex’s.”

Lexa took a step back, her discomfort overwhelming her. Instinctively, she moved closer to Bjorn, who stood beside her. Clarke’s hand slid off her hip, but the distance between them had already widened in more ways than one.

"Clarke is someone I met through Luna Wagner," Lexa explained quickly, her tone a little colder than she intended. She didn’t want to seem distant, but she couldn’t help it. All she wanted in that moment was to get some space, to distance herself from the intense gaze of Steel and the pressuring attention.

Bjorn, who had been watching the interaction closely, noticed the tension in the air and placed a protective hand on Lexa’s side, gently guiding her away from Clarke.

Steel, after a long moment of silent observation, raised an eyebrow and finally spoke, his voice smooth but with an undercurrent of subtle judgment. “And now we’ve met. Excuse me.” With that, he turned and walked away, leaving the three of them standing in a quiet, tense moment.

Clarke stood there, stunned by how quickly things had shifted. Her mind raced. She had only wanted to be close to Lexa, but it seemed that in doing so, she had only pushed them further apart.

Bjorn stood with his arm around Lexa, while Clarke awkwardly stood beside them.

Lexa knew that it was risky for Bjorn’s career to try reintroducing him to Steel tonight. If Steel didn’t like the idea, it could damage Bjorn’s reputation, especially in front of such an influential figure. She could feel the weight of the moment and the pressure it put on them. Lexa glanced at Bjorn, then back at Clarke, silently weighing her options.

Lexa turned toward Bjorn, moving slightly away from Clarke, and said, "Sorry. I didn't know that..." She couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence, the words she wanted to say—how she wished Clarke weren’t there—stuck in her throat. Before she could say anything more, Bjorn stepped in, sensing her discomfort.

"It’s okay," he reassured her with a soft smile. "It happens. We’ll try again another day." His calmness helped ease the tension, but Lexa couldn’t shake the feeling of the moment weighing on her.

Lexa and Bjorn stood facing each other, Bjorn's arm around Lexa, while Clarke felt like she was trying to talk to someone who didn’t want to talk to her. The awkwardness hung heavily in the air, each passing second making her feel more isolated. Her thoughts began to spiral—how had it come to this? They had shared something real, something intimate, and now she was nothing more than a stranger standing on the edge of their world.

Thankfully, the tension was broken when a woman, about Clarke's age, suddenly approached them, her voice bright and full of energy.

“Bjorn! So good to see you,” the woman said, beaming.

Bjorn released Lexa from his hold to give the woman a warm hug. “Niylah! Fantastic to see you,” he replied with genuine enthusiasm. He then turned to Lexa and added, “Alex, this is Niylah. She did all the artwork for the movie.”

Lexa extended her hand to Niylah, offering a friendly greeting, but Clarke’s attention immediately shifted to Octavia, who stood a few feet away. She spotted her instantly, her presence unmistakable in a sharp suit, keeping a careful watch over the surroundings. A wave of pride swelled in Clarke’s chest as she observed her best friend.

“Niylah, your bodyguard is one of my best friends,” Clarke said with a hint of pride.

Niylah laughed softly, nodding. “Really? She seems really sweet, super professional.”

Lexa seemed to sense a shift in the conversation, her gaze flicking between Niylah and Clarke. “Actually, you and Clarke might have a lot in common. Clarke here is also an artist,” she said, her tone almost too casual.

“Really?” Niylah asked, her curiosity piqued, and for a moment, Clarke felt seen. But then Lexa’s voice interrupted, and the feeling evaporated just as quickly.

“Well, you two can definitely talk more about that. Excuse us,” Lexa said, her words swift, pulling Bjorn away by the hand, leaving Clarke standing there in the wake of their departure.

Clarke watched them walk off, her heart sinking with each step they took. She could feel the distance growing between them, the coldness that had started to form in the moments before now solidifying into an undeniable truth. Lexa had pulled away, and Clarke, standing alone now, felt small, dismissed.

Niylah and Clarke were left standing alone in the crowd, watching as Lexa and Bjorn disappeared into the sea of people. The air between them felt thick with unspoken words.

“I feel like we just got rejected,” Niylah said with a soft, almost ironic smile, her eyes still lingering on the couple.

Clarke’s eyes followed Lexa for a moment longer before she glanced down at her shoes, feeling the familiar sting of being brushed off. “I think I definitely did,” she muttered, trying to mask the hurt in her voice. The feeling of being invisible to Lexa was suffocating.

“We’re probably just a little too... ordinary for her. When you're that rich and famous, it must be hard not to start seeing everyone else as beneath you,” Niylah said, her voice laced with a mix of understanding and bitterness. She watched Lexa, who was now engaged in conversation with others, her posture relaxed but her smile as perfectly rehearsed as ever.

Clarke’s chest tightened at the words, her protective instinct kicking in. “That’s not who she is at all,” she replied, the words coming out sharper than she intended.

Niylah turned to Clarke, her gaze thoughtful and a little more serious now. She studied Clarke for a moment before speaking softly, “I don’t really know her, of course,” she said, her tone a little more gentle.

Clarke shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond.

“Hey, this really isn’t any of my business,” Niylah said, her voice lowering, a trace of hesitation in her words. She glanced over at Lexa again, lowering her voice further so that only Clarke could hear. “When you're part of the community, there are always rumors about nearly every Hollywood star. Most of the time, it’s just gossip... but sometimes, sometimes it’s true. I never believed the rumors about Alexandra Woods.”

Clarke felt a cold rush of discomfort wash over her. She didn’t expect the conversation to take this turn. Her heart skipped a beat, her thoughts racing to catch up. Unsure how the conversation had shifted toward Lexa’s sexuality. She knew she needed to shut it down quickly.

She swallowed hard, her throat dry, and quickly shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered, her voice almost a whisper, like she was trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

“Hm,” Niylah replied quietly, her gaze still lingering on Lexa as she conversed with Bjorn. Her voice dropped even lower, almost a whisper now, “I have nothing against Alexandra, and I’d never talk behind her back. But if it’s true... it must be a nightmare. Dating someone so deep in the closet.”

Clarke didn’t say anything, her throat tight as she tried to push down the rising discomfort. She didn’t know what to say, because deep down, she knew it was true.

Niylah, sensing the change in Clarke, softened her gaze. She fumbled with her bag for a moment before pulling out a business card and handing it to Clarke with a small smile. “Here. My card. If you ever want to meet up and talk about art, or whatever,” Niylah said, her voice a bit more neutral now.

Clarke took the card without thinking, the small gesture offering an anchor of normalcy in the chaos of the night. She nodded, feeling a little numb. “Thanks,” she said quietly, her mind still swirling with everything Niylah had just said.

As Niylah walked away to greet someone else, Clarke stayed where she was, her eyes flickering back to Lexa and Bjorn. She could still feel the lingering weight of their absence, the distance that felt like an unspoken barrier between her and the woman she couldn’t stop thinking about.

Clarke wandered along the edge of the room, her fingers lightly clutching a glass of wine that had long since lost its purpose other than as a means to distract her. Her mind was in turmoil, the familiar buzz of alcohol only amplifying the chaos inside her. She couldn't stop her eyes from drifting back toward the center of the room, where Lexa stood, laughing—genuine, bright, and surrounded by people. The sight felt like a knife twisting in her chest, a silent reminder of how far away Lexa felt.

Each time her glass emptied, Clarke mindlessly set it aside and grabbed a fresh one from a passing server, not really noticing the time slipping by. The room blurred around her, faces and conversations fading into the background, as all she could do was fixate on Lexa—her laugh, her smile, and the cold distance that seemed to have settled between them tonight. Clarke couldn’t even remember how many glasses she had gone through, or how long she had been walking around this way, feeling like a shadow.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she pulled out her phone. Her fingers were unsteady as she typed, her mind caught somewhere between clarity and confusion. She stared at the screen for a moment before hitting send.

“We need to talk.”

She immediately regretted it, but the message was already sent.

Clarke stumbled slightly as she moved through the crowd, her glass of wine now long empty. The buzz of the party had become a distant hum, and all she could focus on was Lexa, standing across the room with her usual poise, but with an air of distance that Clarke couldn’t quite shake off. Clarke’s thoughts were muddled, and the wine had made them even harder to follow, but she kept stealing glances at Lexa, watching her talk and laugh with others.

When Lexa finally pulled her phone out of her purse, Clarke’s breath hitched. She watched as Lexa scanned the room, her eyes flicking across the crowd before they landed on Clarke. For a moment, everything felt frozen. Then Lexa’s fingers moved across her phone screen, and Clarke’s heart skipped when the familiar ping of a new message echoed through the noise around her.

Clarke fumbled for her phone, unlocking it to find Lexa’s message:

“Toilet. 10 minutes.”

Clarke’s pulse quickened, but she also felt an odd sense of unease settle in her chest. This was the moment. Clarke chewed on her lip for a moment, her mind foggy but determined. She quickly typed a response:

“I’ll be there.”

She didn’t stop to think about it. Clarke slipped her phone back into her pocket and made her way through the crowd, trying to steady herself. The walk to the restroom felt longer than usual, as though the space between them had somehow stretched. Her thoughts spun in every direction—about the things they hadn't said, about the way she could barely recognize the connection between them anymore.

By the time she reached the door, her hands were shaking. Clarke didn’t know what to expect when she stepped inside, but she knew one thing for sure: things were fragile now. Whatever was about to happen would either fix them or break them for good.

Lexa waited for Clarke inside the bathroom and locked the door behind her. "What were you thinking?" Lexa asked, her tone sharper than she intended. Clarke was taken aback by the edge in her voice but remained silent.

"You can’t just go up and talk to people like Steel and me!" Lexa’s words were tight, as if she was trying hard to keep her composure.

"What do you mean? Now I can’t talk to you!?" Clarke replied, her voice a little slurred, frustration bubbling under her breath.

Lexa stared at her, her expression flickering with disbelief. "Are you drunk?" she asked, softer now, but there was still concern mixed with the tension.

"You invited me!" Clarke snapped, her words stumbling out as she tried to make sense of it all.

"There’s a time and place for everything, and here is neither the time nor the place, Clarke," Lexa said, her voice much gentler now, but Clarke could hear the faint disappointment beneath.

"No, you make me feel crazy! You invited me to Los Angeles, you invited me to the premiere, but you have no time for me! You won’t talk to me!" Clarke's words grew louder, raw emotion slipping through the cracks.

"That’s not what I want, Clarke," Lexa said, her tone softening, but Clarke could see the unease in her eyes as she tried to calm her down.

Clarke felt her throat tighten, the tears threatening to spill over. She hadn’t realized how much she had been holding back. "I’m not crazy," she mumbled, voice breaking with emotion.

"No, you’re not crazy," Lexa said, her voice softer now, almost like a whisper. "I haven’t had time, but I invited you because I wanted to see you, Clarke. I thought you could spend time with your friends, enjoy some luxury, and have a little holiday while I was away."

"I’ve been alone all day. Octavia got a job here, and Raven keeps disappearing with Anya," Clarke murmured, the ache in her chest growing.

Lexa’s face softened, her eyes widening with sympathy. "I didn’t know that," she said quietly, her voice tinged with regret.

"There’s nothing for me here," Clarke whispered, the weight of her loneliness sinking in deeper.

"Come here," Lexa said gently, her arms pulling Clarke into a tight embrace. Clarke let herself be enveloped in the warmth, seeking comfort, even though everything felt out of reach.

"This is my work, Clarke. I need these people to see me in the right light. They’re the ones who’ll hire me again," Lexa mumbled into Clarke’s hair, her hold on her becoming firmer as she spoke.

"Was it wrong of me to come?" Clarke asked softly, her voice trembling as she pulled away just enough to look at Lexa.

"Maybe it was wrong of me to invite you," Lexa said, the words coming out almost like an apology. Clarke could feel the distance between them growing even though Lexa didn’t mean for it.

Clarke took a shaky step back, her emotions swirling. "You don’t want me?" she asked louder now, unable to keep the hurt from her voice.

"Clarke, you’re drunk. If you go out there and say the wrong thing to the wrong person… it could ruin my career," Lexa said, her voice low and full of quiet desperation, but Clarke could hear how much it hurt her to say it.

"Fine! I’ll go home!" Clarke snapped, her chest tightening as she turned to walk away.

Lexa reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder, her voice softening again. "We’ll talk about it tomorrow. I might have a little more time then."

Clarke didn’t look back as she shrugged off Lexa’s hand and walked out of the bathroom, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Clarke was driven back to the beach house by the driver who had taken them to the party. Once she stood alone in their bedroom, her eyes lingered on the bed she shared with Lexa. But nothing inside her felt like lying there and waiting for Lexa to come home from the party. Too drunk to make any rational decisions, Clarke began to pack her suitcase. She carefully packed the paintings she had made as well, making sure they were secured properly.

When everything was packed, she called a taxi to take her to the airport. The weight of everything felt heavier with each movement, but she didn’t pause to think.

At the airport, Clarke approached the counter and asked, "When is the cheapest flight to New York?"

The woman behind the counter glanced at Clarke for a moment before turning to her computer to check the options. "There’s a flight in three hours with one seat available. Would that work for you?" she asked, her voice polite but detached.

"That’s perfect. Thank you," Clarke replied, her voice strained as she purchased the ticket. She wasn’t sure if running was the solution, but it felt like the only way to escape the suffocating weight in her chest.

A few hours had passed since Lexa had sent Clarke home, and now, finally, she sat in the back of the car with Bjorn. The car glided silently through the streets of Los Angeles, the driver taking deliberate turns to confuse any paparazzi that might be following. The city was quiet, but Lexa felt far from calm. Her mind raced, thoughts constantly circling back to Clarke—about everything that had gone wrong, everything that had been left unsaid.

When Bjorn was dropped off at his hotel, Lexa felt a pang of unease in her chest. She’d done what she had to for the night, playing her part, but now she was alone, heading back to the beach house. The thought of Clarke was like a knot tightening inside her.

As the car sped along the empty streets, Lexa hoped Clarke had already gone to bed, found some peace after the chaos of the evening. But deep down, Lexa knew better. Clarke didn’t need sleep. Clarke needed to be heard. They both needed to talk, to address the growing distance between them, the unspoken tension that had been building for days.

Lexa’s fingers gripped the armrest as she thought about the look in Clarke’s eyes earlier—so much hurt in those beautiful eyes. It hurt more than she had expected. How had it gotten this far? How had she let it get this bad?

When the beach house came into view, Lexa’s heart beat a little faster. She had no idea what kind of reception she would get when she walked through that door. Would Clarke be angry? Would she shut her out?

The driver pulled up to the front of the house, and Lexa stared at the door for a moment, breathing deeply. Inside, she knew, would be the remnants of their last conversation—the silence that lingered, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. She had to fix this. She had to try.

Lexa entered their bedroom, her breath catching when she saw it was empty. Clarke’s things were gone. Her chest tightened with panic as she quickly turned around, rushing from room to room in the beach house, desperately hoping that Clarke had simply chosen another room to sleep in. But no, the house was still—too still.

Her heart started to race. Where was she?

Frantic, Lexa grabbed her phone and dialed Clarke’s number, praying for an answer. The line rang and rang, but there was no pickup. Her chest felt tight, suffocating, and she redialed, this time calling Anya. When Anya picked up, Lexa nearly shouted into the phone, her voice breaking.

“Is Clarke with you?”

“No…” Anya replied, clearly confused. “What’s going on?”

“Where are the others? Octavia? Raven?” Lexa's voice trembled as she tried to make sense of the situation.

“Uh, Raven’s here. Maybe Octavia’s still at work?” Anya answered, her voice distant, unhelpful.

“Anya, she was drunk. I sent her home, and now her things are gone!” Lexa's voice cracked, the panic rising in her chest. “What do I do?”

“Okay. We’ll come now. Stay where you are,” Anya said, her tone suddenly serious.

“I need to do something! I’m calling Octavia,” Lexa said, her frustration mounting.

“No,” Anya cut her off. “We’ll do that from the car. You stay put.”

Before Lexa could respond, the line went dead. The silence in the room felt like it was closing in on her, the weight of everything pressing against her chest. She stared at the phone in her hand. For a moment, she just stood there, frozen, before she threw it across the room in frustration.

“FUCK!” Lexa screamed, her voice raw, echoing through the empty house. Her legs gave way beneath her, and she crumpled to the floor, her hands clutching her chest as tears spilled down her face.

Everything felt wrong. She had messed up. She didn’t know where Clarke was, or what was going to happen next, but it felt like it was all slipping away, and she had no control.

Lexa sat on the cold floor, unsure of how much time had passed since the chaos of her emotions had overwhelmed her. She felt like the world was spinning, yet everything was so painfully still. Her mind replayed the events over and over—sending Clarke away when she had needed her most, the words that stung, and now the empty house that echoed her loneliness.

When the door creaked open, she barely registered the sound until Anya stepped inside. Raven followed closely behind, her face pale with concern, phone still pressed to her ear. Anya's eyes immediately locked onto Lexa, and without a word, she rushed to her side.

"Alex? Are you okay?" Anya’s voice was gentle but filled with panic. She knelt down beside Lexa, her hands steadying her as she tried to help her up from the floor. Lexa’s body felt numb, her legs unsteady, but she let Anya guide her, feeling the warmth of her touch in the midst of her cold dread.

Lexa looked up at Anya, her face pale, and her eyes rimmed with unshed tears. “Where were you? Why weren’t you here?” The question spilled out, raw and vulnerable. She wanted comfort, wanted answers, but the hurt was overwhelming.

Anya exchanged a quick glance with Raven, who was still on the phone, her expression tense. She then turned her attention back to Lexa, her voice soft but firm. “We... Raven’s trying to reach Clarke, but she’s not answering. Octavia’s on her way. She just got off work,” Anya replied, trying to keep the situation under control, though her concern for Lexa was obvious.

Tears welled up in Lexa’s eyes as the guilt settled deep in her chest. “It’s my fault,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “She was drunk and upset, and I sent her home…” The words stung in her mouth, and she couldn’t bring herself to say more, the guilt too suffocating.

Anya’s hands rested lightly on Lexa’s shoulders, a silent reassurance, as she guided her gently toward the bedroom. “Okay. We’ll find her,” Anya reassured, though her voice faltered just slightly. “But please, lay down. You need to rest. It’s been a long day.”

Lexa wanted to protest, to stand and fight, but her body felt heavy. Her legs ached, and her mind was too clouded with worry. She let Anya lead her without a word, sinking onto the bed, the softness beneath her not quite easing the tension coiled tightly in her chest.

Anya worked quickly, helping Lexa out of her gown, the jewelry that seemed to weigh her down, and the hairpins that held her styled hair in place. As she removed the pins, Lexa felt an odd sense of relief, as though shedding the day’s persona. She closed her eyes for just a moment, hoping to forget the ache, but the guilt was still there, gnawing at her.

Once Lexa was settled in the bed, Anya quietly left the room, leaving Lexa alone in the dimly lit space. The silence was deafening. Lexa lay still, staring up at the ceiling, the weight of her emotions pressing in on her. Every moment she had shared with Clarke felt like a fragile memory, slipping away with every passing second.

Lexa wasn’t sure when the exhaustion had fully taken hold, but she had ended up drifting in and out of a restless slumber. The soft hum of the night had been all around her, and yet the weight in her chest never left. She had tossed and turned, her mind unable to quiet itself, replaying the events of the night—of Clarke, of the way things had spiraled. Somewhere between the sharp pangs of guilt and the need to feel something—anything—she had succumbed to a broken sleep.

It wasn’t a peaceful rest, more like a dazed limbo between wakefulness and dreams, her thoughts too tangled to fully escape. When she opened her eyes again, the house was still shrouded in darkness, the silence louder than any sound could be. She could still feel Clarke’s absence in the air, the hollow space next to her in the bed where she should have been.

She lay there for what felt like hours, staring at the ceiling, but not really seeing anything. She kept expecting her phone to ring, a message, anything—news that Clarke was okay, that everything wasn’t as shattered as it seemed. But there was nothing. Just her own breath, slow and heavy in the dark.

Eventually, the quiet became unbearable. Her gaze wandered across the room and landed on the guitar, still propped against the wall, its presence almost mocking her in that moment. She knew it would do little to ease the pain, but it was the only thing that felt remotely close to anything real. She swung her legs off the bed, the cool floor beneath her feet grounding her for just a second. The room felt colder now, the weight of the silence more pronounced.

She didn’t think as she stood and moved to the corner where the guitar rested. She had no plans, no idea what she was hoping to achieve, but her hands reached for the instrument almost instinctively, as if her body knew what her mind couldn’t process yet.

With a deep breath, Lexa started to run her fingers gently across the strings, almost as if she were coaxing the music out of the guitar. It wasn’t much at first—just a soft, barely audible hum of sound, but it was enough to calm her for the moment. Then the words came, tumbling out in a hushed whisper, barely louder than the sound of the strings.

"You stand with your hand on my waistline
It’s a scene, and we’re out here in plain sight
I can hear them whisper as we pass by
It’s a bad sign, bad sign.
Somethin’ happens when everybody finds out
See the vultures circling, dark clouds
Love’s a fragile little flame, it could burn out
It could burn out."

Tears began to slip down her face as the melody wrapped around her. She could barely finish the song, the emotions choking her as she sang, her voice trembling with every word. The guitar felt like it was keeping her tethered to reality, even though the world around her seemed to be slipping away.

"Baby, I know places we won’t be found, and
They’ll be chasing their tails trying to track us down
‘Cause I, I know places we can hide
I know places,
They are the hunters, we are the foxes
And we run
Just grab my hand and don’t ever drop it
My love..."

The last note faltered, and she shoved the guitar away from her in a panic, as if it burned her. The sound of it clattering against the floor only made her feel more lost. She collapsed forward, burying her face in her hands as tears began to fall freely. She had no idea how to fix any of it. How to find Clarke, how to make things right. All she knew was the emptiness that filled the house, the emptiness that seemed to mirror the ache in her chest.

It was starting to get light when Lexa finally stepped out of the bedroom, moving like a zombie. Her body felt heavy, as if it didn't have enough energy to carry her own weight. Raven, Octavia, and Anya sat around the kitchen table, each with a cup of coffee. Their faces were drained, dark circles under their eyes, as if none of them had slept all night. The atmosphere was thick with worry, the tension palpable in the air. No one said anything, and Lexa hesitated before sitting down, as none of them looked up to meet her gaze. She could feel that they knew how she felt, but they had no words to offer.

But she couldn't wait any longer. She needed to know what had happened. With a deep sigh, she finally sat down on a chair, feeling its cold, hard surface against her exhausted body. "Any news?" she asked quietly.

Raven and Octavia didn't budge, not even a glance in her direction. Their faces were stone, as if they had their own thoughts to process. Anya, however, met Lexa's eyes, filled with both sympathy and an inevitable sadness.

Anya slowly took a sip of her coffee, then set the cup back down on the table, replying calmly but firmly, "I got word from the airport that a woman matching Clarke’s description most likely bought a ticket back to New York. But we still haven’t been able to get in touch with her."

The words hit Lexa like a punch to the stomach. Her thoughts spun wildly in her head, but she couldn’t grasp onto them. She just stared ahead, into nothing. What had she done? How could she have been so blind to what really mattered?

There was a brief moment of quiet desperation, where Lexa felt completely lost. Her body felt heavier, as if she could feel the weight of all the choices she had made and the consequences they had brought.

It was early morning when Clarke landed in New York. She was completely exhausted, nursing a slight hangover, and had no energy left. She didn’t hesitate to call Bellamy.

"Hey, what’s up? Is it a good vacation?" Bellamy asked over the phone, his voice full of cheer.

Clarke slumped onto a bench, her body aching with fatigue. "No, I’m at the airport now. Can you come pick me up?" she said, her tone flat and drained.

"Wait, you’re in New York?" Bellamy asked, his voice surprised but slightly concerned.

"Yeah," Clarke mumbled, barely able to muster the energy to answer.

There was a pause on the other end. "Can you put Octavia on the phone?" Bellamy asked, assuming Clarke was with her friends.

"Octavia and Raven are still in Los Angeles," Clarke replied, her words coming out like a sigh of resignation.

"They didn’t come back with you?" Bellamy asked, his surprise evident in his voice.

"They don’t know I left," Clarke admitted quietly, her head heavy with emotions she didn’t want to face.

"Stay right there. I’m on my way," Bellamy said, urgency in his voice. Clarke could hear the sound of him quickly getting dressed, preparing to leave. She knew he wouldn’t let her stay alone, no matter what.

He kept her on the phone as he made his way to the airport, the car moving as quickly as possible through the early morning streets. Clarke leaned her head back against the cold bench, waiting for him, knowing she couldn’t stay there much longer. She needed comfort, a place where things made sense again.

As soon as Bellamy saw Clarke, he immediately pulled her into a tight hug, feeling her tremble in his arms. She clung to him, her sobs muffled against his shoulder. Bellamy gently rubbed her back, whispering soothing words until her cries subsided enough for her to breathe steadily.

Without a word, he helped her into the passenger seat of his car, buckling her in like she was fragile and might shatter. The ride was quiet at first, the tension thick as Clarke stared out of the window, tears still streaming down her cheeks.

"Did you have a fight with Octavia and Raven?" Bellamy asked gently, keeping his eyes on the road but his tone laced with concern.

"No," Clarke murmured, her voice weak and distant.

"But you didn’t tell them you were leaving?" he pressed, careful not to push too hard.

"No," she whispered, barely audible, her eyes focused on the passing streetlights.

Bellamy sighed softly, understanding the need for answers but not wanting to overwhelm her. "Okay. I’ll call Octavia and let her know you’re safe. They must be worried."

He tapped his phone, connecting the call through the car's speakers so he could talk hands-free.

"Bellamy?" Octavia’s voice came through, startled and tense.

"I have Clarke with me. I just picked her up from the airport. She’s really upset," Bellamy explained, glancing over at Clarke, who started crying again, silent tears cascading down her face.

"But she’s okay? Physically?" Octavia’s worry was palpable, her tone softening.

"Yeah, she’s okay. Can we talk about this later?" Bellamy requested, his voice low as he looked at Clarke, who was now hugging herself, her shoulders shaking.

"Yes, of course. Thank you so much for calling," Octavia said, relief mixed with worry in her voice.

Bellamy ended the call, the silence in the car returning, heavy and oppressive.

"I don’t want to be alone. Can you take me to my mom’s?" Clarke mumbled, her voice cracking with exhaustion.

Bellamy's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He knew Clarke’s relationship with her mother was strained, but seeing her like this, he didn’t question her request. "Of course," he answered softly, changing the route without hesitation.

As they drove, Bellamy occasionally glanced at Clarke, noticing how she seemed even smaller, shrinking into herself as if trying to disappear. He tightened his grip on the wheel, determined to be there for her, no matter what she needed.

Lexa, Anya, and Raven all turned their eyes toward Octavia as the call ended. "That was my brother. He picked Clarke up from the airport. She’s upset but unharmed," Octavia announced, standing up from the table. A collective sigh of relief filled the room, the tension that had hung heavy finally easing just a bit. The news brought a fleeting sense of comfort, but the underlying worry for Clarke still lingered in the air.

"Shit, we should head back to her," Raven mumbled, running her hands over her face as if trying to wipe away the exhaustion of the night.

"Yeah, I spent all of last night convinced I should stay here. There are so many more job opportunities for me here," Octavia admitted, her voice laced with the internal conflict she had been wrestling with. She paused, glancing down at her coffee cup. "But she needs us," she added with a quiet resolve, looking up to meet their eyes.

Raven nodded, her hands still resting on her face. "I’d love to stay too, but it’s just not possible," she admitted, her voice tinged with regret. The weight of her words hung in the air, adding to the solemn atmosphere.

Octavia shot Raven a surprised glance, taken aback by her confession. It was rare for Raven to express vulnerability so openly. Raven, in turn, looked at Anya, her eyes silently asking what their next move should be. Anya met her gaze, her expression resolute, as she rose from her seat.

"Go home. Take care of her, and when things have calmed down a bit, come back," Anya said, her tone leaving no room for argument. She knew this was the best course of action, even if it meant temporary separation.

Raven and Octavia exchanged astonished glances, not expecting such a firm directive from Anya. Anya addressed Octavia directly, "I’ll help you secure more job opportunities when you return. I even have a few contacts in New York that I might be able to reach out to for you."

Then she turned to Raven, stepping closer. "And we’ll manage. I promise," Anya assured her softly, leaning in to kiss Raven.

Octavia’s eyes widened in shock, clearly blindsided by the sudden display of affection. She hadn’t seen that coming, and it added a new layer to the already complicated situation. Lexa was equally surprised but also visibly angry. Her eyes narrowed, and her jaw tightened as she processed the unexpected revelation of Raven and Anya’s relationship. It felt like another piece of her world was shifting without warning, fueling her frustration.

"I’ll get the plane ready for you as soon as possible," Anya continued, her tone brisk and professional once more, trying to steer the conversation back to practical matters.

Without a word, Lexa abruptly pushed her chair back and left the kitchen, her departure leaving an uncomfortable silence in her wake. Her footsteps echoed down the hallway as she retreated, her mind a storm of emotions she couldn't yet untangle.

Lexa didn’t stop in her room. She grabbed a jacket, slipped on a pair of sneakers, and headed straight out the front door. The early morning chill hit her as she stepped onto the driveway, but she didn’t care. She needed to get away, to clear her head. Without looking back, Lexa got into one of the cars parked outside, started the engine, and drove off, leaving the beach house and its tangled web of emotions behind her.

Chapter Text

Lexa paced in circles around her kitchen, her steps erratic, mirroring the turmoil inside her. She had left Anya with Raven and Octavia at the beach house. Lexa couldn’t bear to look at Anya. The betrayal felt like a knife twisted in her gut, the anger simmering just beneath her skin, threatening to boil over. She was so furious, she felt as if she might explode at any moment. She didn’t know how long she had been wandering, but she was sure she had missed more than one meeting by the time Anya walked through her front door.

"Alex? Are you here? I know you're upset, but I don’t like making excuses for why you’re not where you’re supposed to be," Anya said gently as she walked into the kitchen and saw Lexa.

Lexa stopped pacing and glared at Anya, her eyes blazing with unspoken accusations. "You convinced me it was a good idea," Lexa said, her voice low and trembling with barely contained rage.

Anya stopped, her face softening as she looked at Lexa, so Lexa continued, her voice rising with every word, "We knew I didn’t have the time, but you said we should invite her friends. That it would be nice. You promised to take care of her while I was away. You promised to make sure she was okay. That she wouldn’t be alone while I was gone. But where were her friends? One was out working? And the other? You were fucking her!?" Lexa shouted the last part, her voice breaking with the weight of her betrayal.

She began pacing again, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. "You promised..." Lexa stopped herself, breathing heavily as she tried to regain control. She looked up at Anya, her eyes filled with a mixture of pain and disbelief, as if she were seeing her for the first time. "No, it’s worse because I pay your salary, and I asked you to take care of her and ensure she was okay. That was your job, and instead, you were fucking her friend, leaving her alone! Fuck!" Lexa yelled, her voice cracking under the strain of her emotions.

Anya looked regretful about what had happened but also impatient with Lexa, a flicker of frustration crossing her face. "Are you finished?" Anya asked softly, trying to keep her voice calm.

But it was the wrong thing to say because Lexa suddenly became very angry. "No, I’m not!" she shouted, her voice filled with venom, but then she took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. Lexa looked at Anya with a coldness that made Anya flinch, a coldness Anya was not used to. "As you know, I’m leaving for work tomorrow and will be gone for at least three months, but when I return, you will have a list of potential candidates for your job ready. You’re fired," Lexa said coldly, her words like ice cutting through the room.

"Alex. You can’t be serious," Anya said, her voice cracking slightly. Anya had been Lexa’s manager for years and the only one Lexa had shared her big secret with.

"I also want you to draft an NDA for yourself so you won’t reveal my secrets, not even to your replacement. Don’t worry, I’ll pay a handsome sum for your signature," Lexa said, her voice devoid of the warmth it usually held.

"Alex, come on," Anya said, her voice pleading, trying to calm her by moving slowly closer.

"That’s all. You may leave my home now," Lexa said, turning away from Anya and walking out of the kitchen, her heart pounding in her chest. She entered one of the living rooms, closing the door behind her with a quiet finality.

Lexa stood there, staring at one of the walls, the weight of the evening crashing down on her. She felt the walls closing in, the silence of the room pressing against her. She could hardly breathe as she realized how deeply she had messed up, the enormity of her actions suffocating her.

Lexa felt restless and frustrated, her mind a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts and emotions. She longed to do anything but work, especially not in some remote place where she couldn't see Clarke and try to make things right. Yet, she knew she had a commitment. She had the lead role in the film and had trained for it for months. Duty tugged at her, but her heart screamed to stay and fix what had been broken.

With a heavy sigh, Lexa pulled out her phone and typed a message to Clarke: "I'm sorry. I deeply regret everything that's happened. I hope you can forgive me someday." She hit send and sat there, staring at the screen, her heart pounding with a desperate hope for a reply. But nothing came. Every silent minute stretched into an eternity, the weight of the unsent reply crushing her spirit.

Her mind wandered to all the sacrifices she had made for the façade of her relationship with Bjorn. She had given up so much, even her real, deeply cherished relationship with Clarke, all to keep up the illusion. That false relationship couldn’t crumble now, not when it had already cost her so dearly. It was crucial to maintain the façade for the public, for her career, for everything she had built, even if it felt like it was tearing her apart inside.

Determined, she typed another message, this time to Anya: "Make sure Bjorn is at the airport tomorrow to see me off. There can be no doubt about the authenticity of our relationship now." Lexa knew she had to move forward, even though every fiber of her being screamed to stay behind.

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she sent the message. The thought of leaving Clarke behind, unresolved, tore at her. The ache in her chest deepened with each passing second, but she steeled herself, knowing that duty called, even if it meant carrying the burden of her broken heart alone.

Lexa was dressed stylishly yet practically as she prepared to leave the next day. Her tailored jacket hugged her frame, while her sleek boots clicked softly against the floor, giving her an air of effortless elegance. Anya stood by to ensure everything went smoothly, though she kept a respectful distance, her lips pressed into a thin line as she avoided speaking directly to Lexa. The tension between them was palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the shift in their relationship.

Bjorn waited by the car with a bright, warm smile, holding the door open for Lexa even though no photographers were in sight. His relaxed demeanor was a small comfort amidst the whirlwind of her life. Lexa slid into the car, offering him a soft nod, and they set off toward the airport. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable but rather companionable, a testament to the understanding that had started to grow between them.

As they entered the bustling terminal, Bjorn reached for her hand, and Lexa took it, finding a sense of steadiness in the gesture. The paparazzi were waiting, cameras poised, their flashing bulbs illuminating the space in harsh bursts. Lexa kept her head high, her expression composed, despite the internal turmoil that roiled beneath her cool exterior.

They moved through the airport hand in hand, presenting the perfect picture of a couple in love. When it was time to part, Lexa turned to Bjorn, their eyes meeting with a shared understanding. They embraced, the gesture feeling genuine despite the cameras, and shared a brief kiss. The flashes intensified, capturing every angle of their staged goodbye.

As the last camera clicked, Lexa pulled away, offering Bjorn a grateful smile before turning toward the private jet waiting for her on the tarmac. She ascended the steps, her heart heavy with the weight of what she was leaving behind. The door closed behind her, sealing her away from the world outside, and Lexa felt a pang of sadness.

Clarke had slept the entire day away in her mother's guest room. Her body felt heavy with exhaustion, as if the weight of everything had caught up with her in a way she hadn’t anticipated. Her mother had been surprised when Clarke showed up unannounced, but she hadn’t questioned her. She simply welcomed her in, offering a quiet comfort that Clarke hadn’t known she needed.

Her mother had held her in her arms while Clarke cried, letting her emotions spill out without saying a word. There were no questions, no reprimands—just the gentle presence of a mother who understood when her child needed to fall apart. After a long while, her mother had quietly made up the guest bed, ensuring Clarke had a space to rest and recover in peace.

Clarke had ignored the message from Lexa on her phone: 'I'm sorry. I deeply regret everything that's happened. I hope you can forgive me someday.' Her head throbbed with a mix of fatigue and emotional exhaustion. She didn’t know how to react, so she didn’t.

Clarke went down to the kitchen, her bare feet softly padding on the cool floor. It was dark, and she had no idea what time it was. It felt like the middle of the night, but hunger gnawed at her, pulling her from restless sleep. "It's late, sweetheart," her mother’s gentle voice came from the shadows, making Clarke jump slightly. She hadn't noticed her mother sitting there, wrapped in a shawl, alone in the dim light.

"Hungry. What are you doing up?" Clarke asked, her voice a little hoarse from crying earlier.

"Thinking," her mother, Abby replied, her tone heavy with concern, her eyes soft but tired.

Clarke nodded, unsure if she should pry further. She began rummaging for something to eat, opening and closing cabinets. The quiet between them stretched long and heavy, until Abby’s voice, gentle yet probing, broke it. "I don't need to know what happened or exactly what he did to you, but can you at least tell me his name?"

"Mom..." Clarke’s voice was soft, almost childlike in its vulnerability, her hands pausing their search.

"Just a name," Abby coaxed gently, her motherly instinct pushing her to understand more, to protect her daughter in whatever way she could.

"Why do you want to know?" Clarke asked, glancing back at her mother, her eyes a little guarded.

"So I can refuse him treatment in my ER," Abby said with a serious tone, though a hint of dark humor colored her words.

"Mom!?" Clarke exclaimed, a flicker of surprise breaking through her exhaustion.

"It was a joke. I just want to know the name of the man who broke your heart," Abby clarified with a cautious smile, her eyes never leaving Clarke.

Clarke stared into the air for a long time, silent. Abby began to think she wouldn’t answer at all, but then Clarke, almost in a whisper, said, "It was a woman, but I can't say her name."

Abby blinked in surprise, her eyebrows lifting slightly. "A woman?" she repeated softly, clearly taken aback but trying to mask her surprise. She hadn’t known that Clarke liked women too.

"Why can't you say it?" Abby asked gently, her voice urging but not pressing.

"I signed an NDA... she’s famous," Clarke mumbled, her gaze falling to the countertop, avoiding her mother’s searching eyes.

"Oh..." Abby said, the realization dawning on her. Her mind raced with questions but she held them back, sensing Clarke’s fragility.

"She invited me to LA, but she barely had time to see me. She isn’t out. She has a fake boyfriend she spent more time with than me," Clarke confessed, her voice thick with a mix of pain and disappointment.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Abby said, her hand reaching out to cover Clarke’s, her voice filled with empathy, her heart aching to see her daughter in such pain.

"But when we were together, it was amazing, and I really like her," Clarke added, her voice soft, tinged with longing and regret.

"But that doesn’t sound sustainable," Abby said gently, her tone careful, not wanting to dismiss Clarke’s feelings but needing to voice the truth.

Clarke gave a faint smile, an acknowledgment of the truth in her mother’s words. "It probably isn’t," she admitted quietly, her chest tightening with the weight of reality. The bittersweet memories of her time with Lexa replayed in her mind, each one a reminder of the connection that felt so right yet was bound by impossible circumstances. She felt the tears well up again but blinked them away, determined not to break again, at least not tonight.

Clarke was eating breakfast with her mother the next day when the doorbell suddenly rang. Abby got up to answer it, leaving Clarke to her thoughts, still tangled in the remnants of sleep and the echoes of the previous night's revelations. Moments later, Raven and Octavia entered the kitchen, their faces a blend of relief and concern as they rushed toward Clarke.

"Clarke, are you okay?" Octavia's voice was filled with worry, her eyes scanning Clarke's face for any signs of distress.

Clarke blinked, still trying to adjust to their sudden presence. "We got back late last night," Raven added, her tone cautious yet supportive, as if she wasn’t sure how Clarke would respond.

"In Lexa's private jet?" Clarke's voice held a sharp edge, her bitterness barely masked. The taste of Lexa's name brought a fresh wave of emotion she wasn’t prepared to confront.

"Yeah, Anya managed to send us off before Lexa fired her," Raven said, shaking her head as if she still couldn’t quite believe it herself.

"Lexa fired Anya?" Clarke's eyebrows shot up, her voice a mixture of shock and curiosity. The idea of Lexa taking such a drastic step didn’t sit well with the image of Lexa she had built in her mind.

"Yes," Raven confirmed. "She was completely distraught when she realized you were gone. She sounded so panicked when she called Anya and couldn’t find you."

"She was really upset," Octavia added softly, her eyes filled with empathy, trying to make Clarke understand just how much Lexa cared, even if her actions didn’t always show it.

"Okay, but why fire Anya?" Clarke asked, her confusion deepening. She couldn’t help but wonder what had driven Lexa to such an extreme.

Raven shrugged. "It sounded like she blamed Anya for how badly things went. Lexa had apparently asked Anya to look after you and make sure you weren’t alone while she was working. Lexa didn’t think Anya did that well enough."

Octavia nodded. "She felt Anya failed in her duty to keep you supported and safe."

Clarke absorbed their words, a heavy silence settling over the room. The air felt thick, laden with the weight of unspoken emotions. Clarke couldn’t deny the pang of abandonment she had felt during those days alone, left to grapple with the complexities of her feelings for Lexa without anyone to lean on. The bitterness bubbled just beneath the surface, mixing with the sadness that Lexa's absence had left behind.

Clarke said nothing, but a single tear rolled down her cheek.

Raven and Octavia exchanged a glance, their concern deepening as they saw the cracks in Clarke's composure. Abby, who had been standing quietly in the background, stepped closer, placing a comforting hand on Clarke's shoulder.

Clarke swallowed hard, her mother’s touch a soothing balm to her bruised heart, though the ache of her recent experiences lingered. She knew it would take time to unravel the tangle of emotions Lexa had left behind, and she wasn’t sure where to start.

Clarke, Raven, and Octavia agreed to continue their conversation in the living room, sensing that the weight of their discussion needed a more comfortable setting. Abby excused herself politely, mentioning that she had to head to her home office to get some work done. Raven and Octavia made their way to the living room, their steps light but purposeful, leaving Clarke and Abby alone in the kitchen.

As they started clearing away the remnants of their breakfast, Abby glanced at Clarke, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Lexa, huh? You know, I could just Google that name," she said, her tone teasing but filled with curiosity.

Clarke sighed, rolling her eyes with a slight smirk. "It’s just a nickname, Mom. You won’t find anything with that," she replied, her voice a blend of amusement and exasperation.

Abby chuckled, shaking her head slightly. "Clever," she admitted, admiration mixed with her curiosity.

Clarke gave a small shrug, feeling the warmth of her mother’s understanding even in her playful probing.

With that, Clarke turned and headed into the living room to join Raven and Octavia, her heart feeling a little lighter after the brief exchange. Abby, watching her daughter with a mix of pride and concern, made her way to her office, leaving Clarke to her friends and her thoughts.

Clarke, Raven, and Octavia sat together on the couch, the space between them charged with a quiet tension. The air felt thick, heavy with things unsaid. Clarke, feeling the weight of the silence, broke it with a question, her voice soft but edged with curiosity. "Did anything else happen after I left?"

Raven gave a shrug, a gesture that seemed casual enough, but the tightness around her eyes told a different story—one that Clarke could sense but couldn’t quite read. "Not much. We were worried about you, but when Bellamy called to say you were fine, we just went back home to New York."

Clarke nodded, absorbing the information, but the knot in her chest didn’t loosen. Before she could say anything more, Octavia spoke, her voice careful, almost hesitant, as if weighing the words before letting them go.

“Well…” Octavia paused, her gaze flickering to Raven as if seeking confirmation. Raven met her eyes and nodded almost imperceptibly, so Octavia continued. "Raven and Anya... apparently they’re kind of a thing now."

The words didn’t quite register at first. "What?" Clarke’s voice came out louder than she intended, jagged with disbelief. "You’re dating Anya?"

Raven let out a quiet sigh, a soft, almost amused chuckle escaping her lips. "Yeah, it just sort of happened."

Clarke blinked, her mind still trying to make sense of the revelation. She hadn’t seen this coming, hadn’t even considered it as a possibility.

Octavia’s voice broke through her thoughts again, this time with a sense of quiet clarity. "That is part of what made Lexa so mad."

Raven gave a quick nod, her expression softening as she shifted into a more serious tone, the lightness of their earlier conversation completely gone. “I think Lexa’s been... well, jealous, honestly,” she said, her voice quieter now. “She had been so focused on work, so consumed by her job. so, when Anya took some time for me... for us… Lexa didn’t handle it well. And... she kind of blew up and fired Anya. Just because Lexa couldn’t do the same.”

Clarke’s chest tightened at the mention of Lexa being upset. “What do you mean Lexa couldn’t do the same?” Clarke asked, her voice trembling slightly despite her best efforts to sound calm. The confusion in her chest made it hard to think clearly, but she needed answers, something to make sense of what had happened.

Raven’s gaze flickered away for a moment. “Lexa is traveling to some remote filming location today,” Raven replied. "So she had a lot of prep work to do before leaving, stuff she couldn’t get out of, and she’s also under contract to see that Bjorn guy, you know, for appearances. So yeah, she didn’t have time to see you." She let out a frustrated breath before continuing. “But that’s the part that doesn’t make sense. If she knew she couldn’t be there for you, why even invite you?”

The words hit Clarke like a wave. She felt the weight of them settle in her chest, pulling her down.

"But she’s leaving today and will be gone for three months, so maybe she just really wanted to see Clarke before she left." Octavia said, trying to piece together Lexa’s actions. She spoke with a kind of careful optimism, as though trying to justify Lexa’s intentions.

“Wait... she’s gone for three months?” Clarke’s voice wavered, a mixture of disbelief and a strange sense of hurt. The idea of not seeing Lexa for that long, without any chance to resolve things, felt overwhelming. She hadn’t signed up for this.

Raven shrugged, her tone shifting again, a sharp edge to it. “But it doesn’t matter now,” she said, her words cutting through Clarke’s spiraling thoughts. "Anya doesn’t work for her anymore, and... it’s not like you want to see her again after this." The finality in Raven’s voice rang through Clarke’s mind, as if the matter was settled, but the knot in her stomach wouldn’t loosen.

Clarke blinked, caught off guard by Raven’s dismissal. She hadn’t really considered it—whether she wanted to see Lexa again or not. She felt so lost in the whirlwind of emotions and revelations. “I don’t know…” Clarke whispered, her voice barely audible. “I don’t know what I want.”

The uncertainty hung in the air as Raven crossed her arms, a faint frown forming as she spoke again, her tone firm and resolute. "I mean, honestly, you don’t need her. She’s not worth the trouble, Clarke. She’s got her fame and her movie career, but she’s just not worth your time." The words felt harsh, almost too harsh.

Clarke’s gaze shifted to Raven, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to steady the flood of emotions swirling inside her. “You think so?” she asked, her voice cutting through the tension. She tried to keep it calm, though her words betrayed the hurt she was feeling. “She paid for the whole trip. She paid for everything. And... she’s the reason you even met Anya—who she still pays a salary to, by the way.”

Raven scoffed, her expression turning dismissive. “So what? She has money. That doesn’t make her a good person.” Her words were sharp, and Clarke could feel the underlying bitterness that Raven had toward Lexa. It felt like an attack, and Clarke’s jaw tightened in response. But she didn’t reply immediately. What could she say?

Clarke fell silent, and the air between them felt thick with unresolved tension. She didn’t know how to explain what Lexa meant to her—how much she wanted things to work out despite the chaos, despite the hurt. She could still remember how it felt to be with her, to think that maybe, just maybe, there was something worth fighting for. But now it all felt so complicated.

“Maybe you’re just upset because she fired Anya,” Octavia said to Raven, her voice light, trying to break the tension. She laughed, but there was a nervous edge to it, as though she, too, wasn’t sure how to handle the weight of the conversation.

Clarke didn’t laugh. She couldn’t. The words that Raven had spoken still echoed in her mind, each one digging deeper into her chest.

The weight of the moment pressed down on Clarke. It made her feel small, like everything she’d felt for Lexa had been so easily dismissed. She couldn’t quite shake the discomfort in her chest—the way Raven seemed to reduce Lexa to nothing more than her fame and money.

After a while, Raven and Octavia decided it was time to head back to their apartment. They both wanted Clarke to come with them, but Clarke shook her head. “I think I’d like to stay here a bit longer,” she said, her voice softer than usual. “It’s nice to finally have a proper conversation with my mom again.”

Raven, who had been a bit withdrawn, seemed taken aback. She hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly, and Clarke could tell she was worried. “Are you sure? I mean, if things are kind of... tense.”

Clarke let out a small sigh, her gaze drifting to the window. “I just need some time, Raven. I’ll be fine. I just need some space to figure things out.”

Octavia, who had been quiet, looked between her two friends and nodded. She understood. “I get it, Clarke,” she said quietly. “Sometimes you need some time to just be... you know, to figure things out on your own. We’ll be here whenever you're ready.”

Clarke offered a faint smile, grateful for Octavia’s understanding. “Thanks, Octavia,” she said softly.

Raven gave one last, uncertain glance at Clarke, then sighed. “Alright, if that’s what you need.” She looked at Octavia, who simply nodded in response. They stood up, ready to leave, but there was a certain heaviness in the air. As they walked out, Clarke heard Raven mutter something about checking in later, but Clarke was already lost in her thoughts. She needed this time to clear her mind, to be with her mother, and to figure out what was next.

Abby was surprised when Clarke said she wanted to stay with her for a while, but the genuine warmth in her voice was unmistakable. “I’d love to have you here, sweetheart,” she said, her smile widening as she looked at Clarke. “It would really make me happy to have some company.”

Clarke smiled softly, appreciating her mother’s enthusiasm, but she quickly added, “I know you’re busy with work, Mom. I’m not trying to be a burden. I just... I really need to be here for a bit, and I think I just need some time with you.”

Abby’s expression softened, her eyes glimmering with understanding. “I get it, Clarke. And I’m glad you’re here. It’s been too long since we had some quiet time together. We’ll figure it out, don’t worry.”

Clarke felt a wave of comfort at her mother’s words. She had missed this. The simple, grounding presence of being at home, a space that felt like it could bring her peace, even if only for a little while.

Clarke went up to the guest room, which was her temporary space for now. She unpacked her suitcase slowly, methodically. As she rifled through her things, she found the paintings she had created that day when she had been so lost and heartbroken, alone in the beach house. She stared at the images, feeling a wave of emotion wash over her. They were dark, filled with sorrow and confusion, but also love and longing. Clarke could see them all clearly in her mind, the way she would set up an exhibit around them, deciding which images still needed to be painted to fill the spaces between the pieces.

Inspiration slowly crept back into her, a quiet, subtle force, and she felt a spark of purpose—an idea that could take shape and help guide her forward.

Just as she was beginning to lean into that feeling, her phone buzzed. Clarke checked the notification. It was a video from Lexa. She hesitated but clicked play.

The screen revealed Lexa, wearing relaxed clothing, sitting in a hotel room. She had her guitar in hand and began to sing softly, her voice full of emotion:

“I blew things out of proportion, now you’re blue
Put you in jail for something you didn’t do
I pinned your hands behind your back, oh
Thought I had reason to attack, but no”

Lexa looked up at the camera with a tentative smile, but Clarke could see the pain hiding behind her eyes, the vulnerability in her gaze.

“Fighting with a true love is boxing with no gloves
Chemistry ‘til it blows up, ‘til there’s no us
why’d I have to break what I love so much?
It’s on your face, and I’m to blame, I need to say”

Lexa closed her eyes briefly, a tear slipping down her cheek, and Clarke’s heart twisted.

“Hey It’s all me in my head
I’m the one who burned us down
But it’s not what I meant
Sorry that I hurt you
I don’t wanna do, I don’t wanna do this to you
I don’t wanna lose, I don’t wanna lose this with you
I need to say, hey
It’s all me, just don’t go
Meet me in the afterglow”

Lexa looked ahead, her gaze distant, silent for a long moment before the video ended abruptly. Clarke stared at the screen, her heart heavy with conflicting emotions. A part of her wanted to respond, wanted to say something, but she felt overwhelmed. She felt guilty for not having the energy to deal with it, for not being able to take action, to decide what Lexa really meant to her.

She simply couldn’t face it right now.

With a sigh, she tapped a thumbs-up emoji and typed, “It’s a beautiful song. You’re very talented.” Then, before she could second-guess herself, she pressed send, quickly putting her phone aside and returning to unpacking.

As she sifted through her bag, a business card fell out, and Clarke glanced down. The name “Niylah” was printed on it. She hesitated for a moment, then picked up her phone again. She saw there was another message from Lexa, but instead of reading it, Clarke typed in Niylah’s number and sent her a message: “Hey, it’s Clarke. We met at the ‘Bad Boys for Life’ premiere. It would be nice to meet up if you're ever in New York.”

Not long after, Niylah replied: “Hey Clarke. Great to hear from you. I’d love that. Let me check my calendar.”

Clarke felt a quiet sense of relief wash over her, a distraction from the emotional weight of Lexa’s message. It wasn’t much, but it was something simple, something uncomplicated to focus on.

Chapter Text

Lexa was exhausted—physically and mentally. She sat hunched over on the bed in her hotel room, her body drained from days of intense work and internal turmoil. Her phone, sitting beside her, was filled with messages she had sent to Clarke over the past few months. Most of them had gone unanswered, but a few had received polite, impersonal responses. Lexa ran her hands over her face, trying to shake off the weariness that clung to her.

Every day had been the same. She’d thrown herself fully into her work, immersing herself in stunts and fight scenes that pushed her to the limit. She’d jumped off cliffs, swung through trees, fought against relentless enemies, been betrayed, found love, and saved the day.

Each evening, after wrapping up for the day, she would pour herself a glass of wine and drink it down, letting the alcohol numb her mind just enough to fall into a restless, dreamless sleep.

The exhaustion weighed heavily on her shoulders, but it wasn’t just the physical fatigue. It was the emotional toll, the constant ache of not being able to reach Clarke, of not knowing how to fix the things that had gone wrong between them. Lexa longed for peace, for clarity, but every time she tried to reach out, to explain, to make amends, she was met with distance. She couldn’t blame Clarke for pulling away. She had, after all, been the one to make the mess in the first place. But that didn’t stop the longing, the desperate desire to fix everything.

Lexa looked around the hotel room. Clothes were strewn over chairs, empty wine bottles littered the floor, and shoes were kicked carelessly across the room. The last scene had been filmed, the final "cut" called for the last time on this movie. All that was left was to pack up her things and head home.

But the thought of heading home didn’t bring her comfort. It only reminded her of the distance that had grown between her and Clarke, of the unresolved tension that still simmered beneath everything. She had hoped that the rush of the shoot, the constant demands of her work, would distract her from the feelings she had been trying so desperately to avoid. But the exhaustion was only part of it. The ache in her chest, the quiet loneliness, was harder to escape.

She sat on the edge of the bed, looking around the room, feeling like it was an embodiment of her mind—chaotic, messy, and untidy. Every corner seemed to reflect the turmoil she felt inside. She closed her eyes for a moment, wishing she could just disappear from it all, from the guilt, from the loneliness. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t the escape she wanted. It was Clarke—only Clarke—that she needed. But no matter how many times she reached out, the distance only seemed to grow.

The flight home was long, but Lexa didn’t mind. She sat back in the plush seat of her private jet, the hum of the engine the only sound accompanying her as the world below slowly disappeared beneath the clouds. She’d barely taken off before her hand reached for the wine. The flight attendants were nothing more than a blur to her, their faces unimportant as she poured herself another glass.

The cabin was her world now—empty except for the occasional glance out the window, where the lights of the world below flickered like distant memories. Her thoughts wandered aimlessly, too tired to focus on anything in particular. She didn’t have the energy to deal with the weight of the past few days, let alone the months before them. The weight of decisions made, of things left unsaid. But with each sip, that weight lightened a little more, the edges of her mind softening, becoming blurry.

She didn’t know how much time passed as the bottle slowly emptied. The world outside became a blur of night, and the soft thrum of the jet beneath her felt like the only constant. The discomfort of the flight, the restlessness—it all melted away. She felt, for the first time in a while, distant from everything.

When the jet finally touched down, the familiar thud of the wheels against the runway didn’t registered in her mind. It didn’t matter. There was no one to see her, no one to judge. She was escorted from the plane by a nameless, faceless man, whose presence hardly mattered. The airport was quiet—empty, almost. She moved through the corridors like a shadow, her steps unsteady as the night air hit her face.

The car that waited for her was just as anonymous. Dark windows. The soft murmur of the engine. She didn’t know the driver’s name, and she didn’t care. She stared out the window, watching the lights blur past in a slow dance as the city disappeared behind her. Her mind was still foggy, but she didn’t fight it. She didn’t have the energy to do anything but let the silence press in on her.

When the house came into view, she didn’t even register the familiar sight. The driveway, the front door—it all felt like someone else’s life, someone else’s reality. She fumbled with the keys when she got out of the car, the motion slow and careless. The door clicked behind her, but the sound felt distant. She dropped her shoes at the door, shrugged off her jacket, and let it fall wherever it landed.

She moved toward the couch, collapsing into the cushions without a second thought. The house was still, the silence heavier than usual. She stared up at the ceiling, not bothering to do anything but let the exhaustion take over. The alcohol spun through her veins, and soon enough, sleep tugged at the edges of her consciousness. The world outside faded, leaving nothing but the quiet pull of the night.

Anya was surprised that she hadn’t heard from Lexa yet. She knew Lexa had come home the day before, and by now, she had expected a message or an update. But it was already late in the afternoon, and there had been no contact from her. Anya had been preparing herself for the inevitable, ready to hand over the list of candidates, knowing it would mark the next step in the process of replacing her. She tried to tell herself that Lexa might just be exhausted after the last few months of filming. Still, the silence made the growing frustration in Anya’s chest impossible to ignore.

With a sigh, she grabbed her coat, her fingers still lingering on the desk as if she could delay the inevitable. The office was quiet now, the hum of the fluorescent lights the only sound as she gathered her things. Her mind kept returning to the situation at hand—the list of carefully chosen candidates, each one ideal in their own way, now in her hands.

Maybe Lexa had been busy, but the nagging feeling in Anya’s stomach told her something else. Perhaps Lexa wasn’t ready to face her. Maybe she was avoiding the confrontation, unsure of what to say or how to make it official. But Anya had done her part. It was time to let Lexa choose a replacement.

Anya drove through the city streets, the familiar rhythm of the drive only adding to her restlessness. The quiet of the afternoon was unsettling, like a pause before the storm. Anya’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, but she didn’t know if it was from the anticipation of seeing Lexa or from the frustration of this strange silence hanging between them. They used to be friends.

She pulled up in front of Lexa’s house and hesitated for a moment before getting out of the car. The house loomed ahead, calm and still, a stark contrast to the tension building in Anya’s chest. The evening had settled in, but Anya couldn’t help but feel the weight of the situation pressing down on her.

Her footsteps were purposeful as she made her way up to the front door, but there was a part of her that dreaded what was to come. The list was in her hand, ready to be handed over, but the uncertainty in the air left her feeling uneasy. She took a deep breath before knocking softly on the door.

There was no answer when Anya knocked, so she knocked again, this time more firmly, but still, nothing. The silence that followed made her hesitate. Should she just leave? Or should she let herself in?

She remembered the key she had been given when things had been... simpler between her and Lexa. It was meant to be a gesture of trust, a reminder that she was always welcome. But now, it felt more like a tool for convenience, and the decision to use it didn’t sit well with her.

For a moment, Anya stood there, the cold air brushing against her face, her hand still hovering over the door handle. A sense of unease settled in her chest, something deeper than just the awkwardness of the situation. She wasn’t sure if it was the weight of what had happened, or if it was Lexa's absence that made the house feel empty, but the tension had a physical presence.

After a few seconds, Anya’s concern overpowered the hesitation. With a small sigh, she pulled the key from her pocket, its cold metal smooth against her palm. She inserted it into the lock, the click of the door sounding louder than usual in the stillness.

The door opened slowly, the dim light from the hallway casting long shadows across the floor. Anya stood there for a moment, looking inside, but there was no sign of Lexa. The house was quiet. Too quiet. The unease grew, but Anya stepped in, pushing the door gently behind her.

Anya almost tripped over Lexa's shoes and jacket, carelessly discarded on the floor in a heap. She stepped over them, her brow furrowing in confusion. Lexa wasn’t the type to leave things like this, scattered. "Alex?" Anya called out softly, her voice tentative as she stepped further into the dimly lit room, but there was no response. The silence was oppressive, thick in the air, making the large, open space feel strangely empty. Anya’s heart began to pound harder as she walked through the house, looking for any sign of life.

The place felt colder, like it was holding its breath. She was just about to conclude that Lexa wasn’t home when she finally spotted her—slumped on the couch in the living room. Lexa was on the couch, her body curled into a position that suggested complete exhaustion or worse. Her body unnaturally still. Her pale skin gleamed in the low light, slick with sweat, and her usually sharp features were drawn and hollow. Dark, deep circles under her eyes made her look like a stranger, someone completely different from the vibrant, confident woman Anya knew.

A sickening feeling twisted in Anya’s stomach when she saw the thin trail of vomit that had dripped from Lexa’s mouth, staining the floor beneath her. Anya’s mind raced, her breath catching in her throat. She froze for a moment, heart lodged in her throat. The world seemed to stop, the room closing in on her as she tried to process what she was seeing.

“ALEX!” Anya shouted, her voice sharp and panicked, the words laced with terror. She dropped the list of candidates she had been holding, the papers fluttering to the floor as she rushed to Lexa’s side, falling to her knees beside her. The sight of Lexa in such a state made her chest tighten with a mixture of disbelief and fear.

Anya shook her, her hands trembling as she gripped Lexa’s shoulders, trying to rouse her with an urgency she didn’t even know she had. Her fingers dug into Lexa’s skin as she rattled her, desperate for any sign that she was still alive. After a long moment of nothing, a faint, pitiful noise came from Lexa’s throat—a sound so weak it almost broke Anya in half. Lexa’s eyelids fluttered, but they didn’t open, and her body remained limp.

Anya’s breath hitched, and for a split second, she thought she might lose her. But the weak sound, the slightest movement of Lexa’s chest, told her that she wasn’t gone—not yet.

“Please,” Anya whispered, her voice cracking with a desperation she couldn’t hide.

Lexa suddenly shifted in Anya's arms and retched onto the floor. Her eyes fluttered open, locking onto Anya's with a vacant, pained expression. In the smallest voice Anya had ever heard from her, she muttered, “Didn’t I fire you?”

Anya’s heart surged with relief at the sound of Lexa’s voice. She was conscious, at least. “Yes… yes, you did,” Anya replied, her voice cracking slightly as she tried to keep herself composed, brushing a stray strand of Lexa’s hair away from her face.

“Hmmm,” Lexa murmured, her body swaying as she attempted to rise from the couch but stumbled back into it. Her skin felt clammy under Anya’s touch, and her movements were sluggish. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her eyes scanning the room as if searching for something, her voice barely audible.

Anya knelt by her, her concern deepening with each passing second. “Alex… what’s happened?” she asked softly, her voice filled with worry, her hands gently holding Lexa’s shoulders to steady her.

Lexa shrugged weakly. “Nothing. Had some wine on the plane… that’s it,” she mumbled, her words slurring just slightly as she tried to sit up again. But her strength failed her, and this time, Anya caught her before she collapsed back.

“You don’t end up like this from a little wine,” Anya muttered, more to herself than anything, her eyes scanning Lexa’s pale, disoriented face, noting the faint sheen of sweat on her brow and the dark circles under her eyes. She then asked, “Where do you need to go?”

Lexa’s gaze drifted slowly toward the bathroom, her eyelids heavy. “Bath,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.

Anya nodded quickly, and gentle but firm she helped Lexa stand, wrapping an arm around her waist to support her, and led her toward the bathroom. She started to run the bath, the warm water swirling around the tub, and carefully assisted Lexa into it, her fingers brushing against Lexa’s cold skin. Lexa didn’t seem to notice the heat of the water or care. She just stared blankly at the tiles in front of her, her thoughts far away, her body visibly relaxing but her mind still distant.

Anya remained at the edge of the tub, her eyes fixed on Lexa, scanning her for any signs of distress. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words, but the only sounds were the gentle splashes of water and the distant hum of the city outside, muffled by the bathroom walls.

After a few moments, Lexa’s eyes flickered toward Anya, and her voice came out soft but steady, though tired. “I’m okay. Just tired.”

Anya’s gaze softened but didn't waver. “You’re more than just tired,” she said quietly, her concern written across her face. She reached out and gently squeezed Lexa’s hand, as if grounding her, offering silent support. But Lexa didn’t respond, her eyes falling back to the empty space in front of her, her breathing slow and even.

Anya hesitated for a moment, her fingers nervously twisting a loose strand of her hair, unsure if she should bring up work now. Then, with a deep breath, she spoke again. “I’ve got the list of candidates, by the way.”

Lexa’s hand twitched slightly as she heard the words, and she slowly shook her head, closing her eyes as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. “Can we wait on that? I can’t deal with it right now,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Anya nodded without hesitation, understanding more than ever that Lexa needed time. “Of course. It’s not urgent,” she reassured her softly, stepping back slightly as she let Lexa rest in the warm bath, her presence still felt, a silent promise that she wasn’t going anywhere.

The tension that had been building in Anya's chest slowly began to ease as she saw Lexa’s chest rise and fall in slow, steady breaths. But she knew they still had a long way to go—there was more than just physical recovery to consider.

As Lexa closed her eyes, Anya lingered near the door, the list of candidates forgotten for now. All that mattered was that Lexa was still with her.

Anya helped Lexa to her feet after the bath, her arm firmly around Lexa’s waist to steady her. Lexa leaned heavily against her, her steps sluggish and uncoordinated as Anya guided her out of the bathroom and toward the bedroom. The silence between them was thick, filled with unspoken concerns and exhaustion.

Once in the bedroom, Anya gently eased Lexa onto the bed, pulling the covers up around her. Lexa sank into the mattress, her body almost disappearing into the soft folds of the blanket. Her eyes fluttered shut almost immediately, but her breathing remained shallow, uneven.

Anya stood by the bed for a moment, watching Lexa’s chest rise and fall, ensuring she was comfortable. With a sigh, she brushed a few damp strands of hair away from Lexa’s forehead before quietly slipping out of the room.

She made her way down the hall to the kitchen, her footsteps light on the hardwood floors. The house was eerily quiet, the only sounds coming from her own movements. Anya opened the fridge, hoping to find something, anything, to give Lexa some sustenance. But the shelves were nearly bare, a lone bottle of water and a few condiments sitting forlornly on the racks.

With a frown, she closed the fridge and checked the cupboards, finding much the same—a few stray cans, some spices, and not much else. It was clear Lexa hadn’t restocked since returning home, and there was nothing substantial enough to make a meal.

Anya sighed again, pulling her phone from her pocket. Her fingers quickly scrolled through her contacts until she found a nearby takeout place. She placed an order for something simple but nourishing, knowing Lexa needed something in her system, especially after the state she was in.

After hanging up, Anya leaned against the counter, her mind racing with worry. She knew Lexa was strong, but the weight of whatever she was going through was clearly taking its toll. The food would arrive soon, and maybe, with some rest and a bit of nourishment, they could begin to piece things back together.

Lexa woke to a quiet, empty room. The soft light filtering through the curtains indicated late afternoon, casting a warm glow across the walls. She blinked a few times, her head pounding as she tried to orient herself. Her body ached, and her mouth was dry.

She sat up slowly, glancing around the room. There was no sign of Anya. For a brief moment, Lexa wondered if Anya’s presence had been a dream, a figment of her overstressed mind conjuring comfort in her time of need. But then her eyes landed on the small tray on the bedside table—a plate of simple food and a bottle of water. The sight of it grounded her, a tangible reminder that Anya had indeed been there.

Lexa reached for the water first, unscrewing the cap with trembling hands and taking a few cautious sips. The cool liquid was a relief, soothing her parched throat. Encouraged, she turned her attention to the food. She picked at it, eating a little bit at a time, but even the small bites felt like too much. Her stomach churned uncomfortably, the cold grip of nausea tightening.

She paused, placing the half-eaten food back on the tray. Leaning back against the pillows, she tried to calm the unease in her gut, focusing on steadying her breathing. The effort was exhausting, and soon, the heaviness in her limbs pulled her back down onto the mattress. She curled up, willing her body to settle, hoping to keep the little she had eaten from coming back up.

Sleep came swiftly, a haze of fatigue enveloping her once more. This time, her rest was deeper, less fitful, as though her body was finally beginning to surrender to the healing it desperately needed.

The next time Anya checked on Lexa, she was surprised to find that some of the food on the tray was gone. She had quietly entered the room, not wanting to disturb Lexa’s rest, expecting to see her still asleep. But the half-empty plate was proof that Lexa had been awake, if only briefly.

Anya approached the bed, her gaze softening as she noticed Lexa’s more peaceful expression. Gently, she adjusted the blanket over Lexa, tucking it in around her shoulders to keep her warm. Lexa stirred slightly but didn’t wake, her breathing deep and even.

Anya stood for a moment longer, watching over her. She felt a flicker of relief, knowing that Lexa had managed to eat something. It wasn’t much, but it was something. She quietly picked up the tray, careful not to make a sound, and left the room, leaving Lexa to her much-needed rest.

When Lexa woke again, the light filtering through the curtains cast a warm glow over the room, but she still felt the remnants of exhaustion clinging to her. Despite the lingering fatigue, there was a faint sense of clarity settling over her. She took a deep breath and reached instinctively for her guitar resting beside the bed, her fingers brushing against the familiar wood.

She sat up slowly, cradling the guitar in her lap. The strings hummed softly under her touch as she began to strum, her voice delicate, almost fragile, as she sang to herself.

"Long handwritten note
Deep in your pocket
Words, how little they mean
When you’re a little too late."

Clarke's face flickered in her mind, her smile, her laugh, the way her eyes would light up in moments of shared joy. Lexa closed her eyes, the ache of longing wrapping around her heart.

"In dreams
I meet you in warm conversation
We both wake
In lonely beds
In different cities
And time
Is taking its sweet time erasing you
And you’ve got your demons
And darlin’, they all look like me."

Her voice trembled slightly, the raw emotion slipping through the cracks of her carefully constructed walls. Lexa leaned over her guitar, her head bowing low, the music offering a small comfort in the quiet solitude. She was so engrossed in her melancholy melody that she didn’t notice Anya standing quietly in the doorway, watching her.

"’Cause we had a beautiful magic love there
What a sad beautiful tragic love affair.
Distance, timing
Breakdown, fighting
Silence, the train runs off its tracks
Hang up, give up
For the life of us we can’t get back."

The last note lingered in the air, resonating in the stillness of the room, as if the walls themselves mourned the words. Anya stood in the doorway, her presence unnoticed until she softly broke the silence. "That was beautiful," she said, her voice filled with genuine admiration and a touch of sorrow.

Lexa remained still, her gaze fixed on the guitar, her fingers gently caressing the strings. The compliment seemed to hang in the air, waiting for her to acknowledge it. After a long pause, she finally spoke, her voice subdued. "I’ve almost got enough songs for a double album."

Anya's eyes widened slightly in surprise. She took a step closer, her tone gentle but encouraging. "Really?"

Lexa nodded, her movements slow, almost hesitant, as she placed the guitar aside. "It sounds exciting," Anya offered, hoping to spark a glimmer of enthusiasm.

Lexa shrugged, her expression distant, the turmoil of her emotions visible in the subtle crease of her brow. "I don’t know if I want to release it."

Anya’s concern deepened as she approached, her steps cautious, as if afraid to disturb Lexa’s fragile state. "What do you mean?"

Lexa looked up at Anya, her eyes reflecting a deep, lingering pain. "They’re all about her."

The admission hung heavily in the air, the weight of unspoken feelings pressing down on both women. Anya’s shoulders sagged slightly as understanding dawned, her voice soft and empathetic. "Oh."

Lexa sighed, the sound barely audible. "She answers me sometimes," she admitted, her voice tinged with a bittersweet mix of hope and resignation. "We’ve talked a few times, but most of the time, she doesn’t reply."

Anya took a moment to absorb Lexa's words before gently suggesting, "Maybe you should visit her. You have more time now."

Lexa’s gaze drifted away, her fingers idly tracing patterns on the guitar’s surface. "Maybe," she whispered, the word fragile, as if afraid it might shatter if spoken too loudly.

Lexa spent the next few days alone at home, a quiet solitude wrapping around her like a comforting, albeit heavy, blanket. During these days, not a single glass of wine passed her lips. It wasn’t as though she had made a firm decision to stop, and she certainly missed it—the familiar warmth, the numbing escape it offered. But Anya had taken it upon herself to handle all the shopping and errands, leaving Lexa with little choice. Venturing out alone to buy wine would undoubtedly land her on the front page of some tabloid, a scandal she didn’t need.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t as difficult as she had anticipated. The absence of alcohol felt strange, yes, but it didn’t feel insurmountable. The cravings were there, a nagging whisper at the edge of her mind, but they never shouted loud enough to compel her to act. For now, she managed, quietly navigating the days without the usual haze, finding solace in the stillness, even if it felt unfamiliar and slightly uncomfortable.

It also gave her time to work on her music with sober eyes, something she hadn’t done in a while. Most of the songs were good enough, though a few were a bit of a mess—scrambled thoughts and feelings she hadn’t fully unraveled yet. Many already had some form of simple demos, as she had recorded herself late at night and sent the clips to Clarke. The videos were pitiful and desperate, filled with raw emotion she couldn’t hide, and Lexa found it honestly difficult to watch them now. The vulnerability in her voice, the unsteady strumming of the guitar, and the glistening in her eyes all painted a picture she wasn’t proud of.

Despite her discomfort, she gathered them all onto a hard drive. She had decided to show them to Anya. She still trusted Anya to give her honest feedback, no sugarcoating or empty reassurances, and that meant a lot to her. The thought of Anya's steady, discerning gaze over her work filled her with a strange mix of anxiety and anticipation. Would Anya hear the pain beneath the chords? Would she see past the mistakes and recognize the heart of it all? Lexa wasn’t sure, but she knew Anya’s opinion would help her decide what to do next with this collection of songs that had become a reflection of her soul.

Anya was working in her office, the soft sunlight streaming through the window as a knock sounded at the door. "Come in," she called out, not lifting her gaze from the documents spread across her desk. The door creaked open, and Raven peeked in with a smile. Anya's eyes widened in surprise. "What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow," she said, standing up quickly and walking toward Raven. They met in a tender kiss.

"Niylah had some spaces she wanted to show Clarke, but they could only view them today, so we caught an earlier flight," Raven explained, her lips brushing against Anya's as she spoke.

Anya smiled, a glint of happiness in her eyes. "Lucky me," she murmured, returning to her desk but keeping her gaze on Raven a moment longer. Raven’s eyes scanned the cluttered desk, taking in the scripts and papers, but she remained silent.

"How’s the art project going?" Anya asked, her fingers resuming their dance across the keyboard as she continued working.

"It’s going well. Clarke thinks she’s painted all the pieces she needs, so now it’s just about finding the right venue." Raven shook her head with a small laugh. "What started as just getting someone to see her paintings has turned into a full-blown art experience."

Anya chuckled softly. "Yeah, I’ve heard Niylah is quite ambitious."

"It’s wonderful to see Clarke so excited, though," Raven said, her smile warm and genuine.

"It is," Anya agreed, then added, "By the way, I have the contact I promised Octavia. I got it here somewhere." She rummaged through her desk drawers before pulling out a business card. "Here it is. A Mr. Lincoln Lee. If you want to get into bodyguarding in Hollywood, he’s the one to talk to."

"Perfect," Raven replied, taking the card. Her eyes lingered on Anya as she worked, a slight tension building in the air. "I thought she fired you," Raven said, her tone carrying a hint of irritation.

Anya sighed softly, still not looking up from her work. "It’s a long story."

"Too long to tell your girlfriend?" Raven’s voice was gentle but persistent.

Anya stopped typing, her hands resting on the desk as she finally met Raven’s gaze. "Alex needs me right now, and I’m not going to turn my back on her," she said firmly.

Raven studied her for a moment, then nodded slowly. Anya gave a slight nod, the weight of the conversation lingering.

Lexa was on her way to Anya's office, her heart pounding a little faster with each step. She hadn’t bothered to dress up properly, opting instead for an incognito look to avoid the paparazzi: her hair pulled back into a ponytail, a cap and sunglasses hiding her face, and a long coat wrapped around her. The car ride over had been uneventful, but the walk from the vehicle to the office building was a blur of hurried steps and a bowed head, keeping her presence as inconspicuous as possible.

The hard drive, containing the culmination of her sleepless nights and raw emotions, sat snugly in her handbag, feeling heavier than it should. As she approached Anya’s office, a wave of anxiety washed over her. The thought of sharing her work, those deeply personal songs that laid bare her feelings for Clarke, was daunting. She wasn’t just presenting music; she was offering a piece of her soul, and the vulnerability of it all made her stomach twist in nervous knots.

Lexa stood outside Anya’s door, her hand poised to knock, when she caught the sound of voices from the other side.

“Sorry, I know you were friends, but she fired you. How can you just forget that?” Raven's voice carried a sharp edge.

Lexa froze, her heart sinking. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but the words held her in place.

“I know,” Anya responded, her tone more measured, “but right now, I need to work for her, and she still wants me around.”

“Wants you? She doesn’t deserve you,” Raven countered, frustration evident.

Realizing she had heard more than enough, Lexa decided to interrupt before the conversation delved any deeper. She raised her hand and knocked firmly on the door. After a moment, Anya’s voice called out, “Come in.”

Lexa took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and stepped inside, steeling herself for what lay ahead.

"Alex. Have I forgotten a meeting?" Anya asked, her voice tinged with surprise as she glanced up. Raven, standing near the door, cast a measured and distant glance at Lexa, who stood frozen just inside the room.

Lexa shook her head, her expression apologetic. "No, sorry. I should have called first. I just took a chance," she admitted softly, the weight of Raven's gaze pressing down on her. Lexa rarely felt diminished in the presence of others, but the cool indifference in Raven's eyes made it clear that their connection was strained, if not outright severed.

"It's no problem. I have time," Anya reassured her with a welcoming smile, trying to diffuse the tension.

Lexa gave a faint nod. "It's nice to see you again, Raven. I didn’t realize you were in Los Angeles." Her voice carried a note of forced calm, an attempt to bridge the growing distance between them.

"Why would you?" Raven responded, her tone flat and devoid of warmth.

Lexa flinched inwardly at the curt reply, but she pressed on. "Is Clarke here as well?" she asked, her voice softer now, almost hesitant.

Raven's gaze sharpened, a flicker of protectiveness flashing across her face. "If Clarke wanted to see you, she would have reached out."

The words struck Lexa like a slap, leaving her stunned. She felt a lump rise in her throat, her usual composure shaken. The silence that followed was heavy, charged with unspoken pain and regret.

"Does Clarke even know Alex is back?" Anya interjected, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked at Raven, as though she couldn’t comprehend the coldness in her demeanor.

Raven shrugged, her expression indifferent. "I don't know."

"It's okay," Lexa murmured, her voice strained but composed. "I hope you'll let Clarke know I'm home." There was a vulnerability in her words, a plea that she tried to mask with a faint smile. Raven hesitated, the conflict evident in her eyes, before she gave a reluctant nod.

"Maybe we could all go out to eat one day. That sounds nice," Anya suggested, her tone light and hopeful, attempting to ease the tension. The suggestion hung in the air, unanswered, as both Raven and Lexa remained silent. Anya, sensing the resistance, nodded to herself. "I'll try to arrange it."

Turning to Raven, Anya said, "I need a quick meeting with Alex. Let's catch up later and grab something to eat." Her voice was gentle, but there was an undercurrent of authority, a subtle reminder that this was her space.

Raven nodded, stepping over to Anya, placing a soft kiss on her cheek before exiting the office. Lexa watched Raven's retreating figure, her chest tight with unspoken emotions. Once the door clicked shut, Lexa whispered, "She doesn't seem to like me."

Anya gave a small shrug, a sad understanding in her eyes. "In her world, you hurt her best friend and fired her girlfriend, so no, you're probably not her favorite person right now."

Lexa nodded, swallowing the sting of those words. She drew in a breath, shifting the focus. "I brought my songs. I’d like to hear if you think they’re worth releasing." Her hands trembled slightly as she retrieved the hard drive from her bag, holding it out to Anya with a hesitant movement, as though offering a piece of her soul.

Anya took it with a solemn respect, her fingers brushing gently over Lexa's for a brief moment of reassurance. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice soft, understanding the gravity of what Lexa was sharing.

"Yes. Listen to them and let me know what you think. I'm a bit uncertain myself," Lexa replied, her eyes meeting Anya's with a flicker of vulnerability, a silent plea for honest feedback and support.

Clarke sat at a café, her hands wrapped around a warm cup of latte, the steam rising and curling in the cool air. The gentle hum of the café filled the background, an ambient mix of soft chatter, clinking cups, and the occasional hiss from the espresso machine. She found comfort in the noise, a kind of white noise that drowned out the turmoil in her head.

Her eyes flickered to her phone, resting on the table, screen dimmed but ever-present. She reached for it, thumb hesitating above the screen before she unlocked it, opening the message thread with Lexa. It was a ritual now, a silent connection to something she couldn’t quite let go of. She scrolled through the old messages, each one a delicate reminder of what had been, and what had been lost.

Her breath caught as she lingered on a voice message. She tapped it and quickly put in her headphones, Lexa’s voice filling her ears, raw and melodic, singing one of the songs she had written trying to get Clarke back. Clarke listened, eyes closed for a moment, letting the notes wash over her in private, the headphones shielding the world from the intimacy of the sound. The song carried the weight of emotions she couldn’t fully articulate—love, regret, hope, and the aching absence that had grown between them.

She didn’t have an answer, hadn’t had one for a long time, and each message, each song only deepened that void.

The soft chime of the door broke through her reverie, and Clarke looked up. Niylah walked in, her presence a bright contrast to Clarke’s somber mood. She wore her usual easy smile, radiating warmth that seemed to chase away the chill in the air. Clarke stood, pulling out the headphones and slipped the phone into her pocket as if to shield the memories, pushing the heaviness aside as she prepared to greet her.

"Great to see you again, sweetie," Niylah said, stepping closer to press a kiss to Clarke’s cheek and pulling her into a tight hug.

"You too," Clarke replied, her smile small but genuine as she leaned into the embrace, grateful for the grounding presence of her friend.

Niylah pulled back slightly, her hands resting on Clarke’s shoulders, her eyes soft with concern. "Everything okay?" she asked, her voice gentle but probing.

Clarke hesitated for a moment before giving a small nod. "Yeah, just... lost in thought," she said, her voice quiet.

Niylah studied her for a second but decided not to push further. "Come on, let’s sit. We’ve got a lot to talk about," she said, leading Clarke back to their table.

As they sat down, Clarke felt a slight ease settle over her, grateful for the momentary reprieve from her thoughts as they slipped into conversation.

Chapter Text

Anya loved having company, but after two days, she had to admit that her apartment wasn’t designed to accommodate four people. Raven slept in the bedroom with her, while her home office had been transformed into a makeshift guest room for Clarke and Octavia. The space, usually so serene, now buzzed with activity, a hum of life that both comforted and overwhelmed her.

Clarke sat at the kitchen table, sketching with an intensity that drew her into her own world. Her brow furrowed in concentration as her pencil danced across the paper, creating lines that would soon become part of her next masterpiece. Raven lounged beside her, casually scrolling through her phone, occasionally glancing at Clarke’s work with an appreciative smile.

Anya had retreated to the sofa, her laptop perched on her lap, headphones covering her ears as she attempted to dive into the folders of Lexa’s music. Each folder contained a treasure trove: an audio or video file accompanied by documents with lyrics and sheet music. Anya was determined to give Lexa's work the attention it deserved, but the lively conversation in the kitchen kept pulling her focus.

The sound of the front door opening cut through the soft noise. Octavia entered with a grin that could light up the entire room. "Oh, you should’ve seen him!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement. "Pure muscle! I’ve never seen a broader man! It was amazing, and he was so kind and thoughtful!"

Raven looked up from her phone, her curiosity piqued. "Who are we talking about?" she asked.

Octavia pulled out a chair next to Raven and sat down, still beaming. "Lincoln. He said he could find some work for me."

Clarke glanced up from her sketchbook, her eyes lighting up with interest. "That’s great. Do you think he could help with security for my exhibition?"

Octavia nodded enthusiastically. "Of course. When is it, and how many people are we expecting?"

Clarke blushed a little, her modesty tinged with pride. "It’s likely happening next week. Niylah’s team specializes in putting together these quick art exhibitions for Hollywood’s elite."

Octavia’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. "An elite event?"

Clarke nodded, a shy smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, it’s starting to head in that direction."

"Well, that’s Lincoln’s area of expertise," Octavia said thoughtfully. "I’ll check with him about rates and everything else."

"That sounds perfect," Clarke agreed, relieved.

Anya, meanwhile, had been trying to stay immersed in Lexa’s music but found the lively exchange too distracting. Frustration began to bubble under the surface, and she sighed, closing her laptop with a soft click. She packed up her things, her movements brisk but not harsh. Standing up, she walked over to Raven, leaning down to give her a kiss.

"I’m heading to the office to work for a few hours," she said, her tone apologetic but firm. "See you later."

Raven gave her a reassuring smile. "Alright."

Anya grabbed her bag, casting one last look at the lively scene in her kitchen, and slipped out the door, craving the solitude her office would provide.

After being home for a week, the restlessness had begun to crawl under Lexa's skin like an insistent itch she couldn't reach. Her beautiful villa, which once felt like an oasis, now started to feel like a cage—too big and empty. She hadn't left the house, except for a couple of brief trips to Anya's office, and even those had been marked by haste and a desire to avoid the public eye. The only people she had seen were those who worked for her, and the isolation was beginning to feel like a wall slowly closing in around her.

Lexa sat on one of the large, plush sofas in the living room, her leg bouncing restlessly as her eyes flicked between the clock on the wall and the heavy double front door. Anya was supposed to come for a meeting, and though Lexa had been looking forward to it, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed. The arrangement to meet here, in her own villa, only amplified the feeling of confinement. She longed for even the smallest opportunity to step outside and break her self-imposed isolation, but it hadn't happened.

The villa’s large windows, which let sunlight pour in, did nothing to ease her unease. Instead, they made the rooms feel even more spacious and lonely. She stood up and began pacing across the polished wooden floor, trying to quell the internal turmoil that made her heart beat slightly faster than usual. Her thoughts ran in circles, revolving around the same frustrating patterns of need and limitation.

She glanced at the door again, hoping Anya would arrive soon to provide some form of distraction, a reprieve from the exhausting solitude that filled the villa like a heavy fog.

The doorbell finally rang, breaking the heavy silence of the house, and Lexa hurried to answer it, her heart beating just a little faster. She swung the door open to reveal Anya, who greeted her with a warm smile, holding a yellow envelope the size of an A4 paper.

"Hey," Anya said, stepping inside. "I’ve got Steel’s latest project here. He wants you to take a look," she said, handing over the envelope. Her tone carried a hint of weariness, as if the script’s delivery was mostly an obligation.

Lexa took the envelope, its weight feeling heavier than just paper. "Does he want me?" she asked, her voice steady but her eyes searching.

Anya gave a slight nod. "He does. I think it’s mostly to have your name attached to it. You’re the biggest female star right now."

Lexa’s grip on the envelope tightened slightly. Before the moment could settle, she shifted the conversation. "Have you listened to my music?" she asked, her voice softer, tinged with vulnerability.

Anya paused, caught off guard by the directness. "Some of it, yes. I haven’t made it through all of them yet," she admitted, her tone measured.

Lexa’s breath hitched slightly. "What do you think?" she pressed, nerves threading through her words.

Anya’s expression softened, and she took a step closer, her gaze steady and sincere. "Honestly? I think they’re fantastic. I knew you could sing, but your songwriting—it’s on another level. It’s truly exceptional, Alex."

The words hit Lexa like a gentle wave, soothing but overwhelming. She hadn’t been expecting such high praise. "So… you think I should release them?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I’m more surprised that you’re even in doubt," Anya said with a small smile.

Lexa stood there, absorbing the compliment, her mind spinning. After a moment, she nodded, as if coming to a decision. "Alright, then I’ll do it," she said softly. "Would you like to come in and maybe have something to eat?" she offered, her voice gaining a bit more strength.

Anya followed Lexa further into the house, her eyes scanning the spacious but eerily quiet rooms. "When was the last time you went out?" she asked gently, sensing something unsettled in Lexa.

Lexa shrugged, avoiding Anya's gaze. "I haven’t had any plans. You know my calendar is empty. Maybe Steel’s new film will give me something to focus on," she replied, her voice tinged with resignation.

Anya watched her carefully, noticing the cracks in Lexa's usual composure. Lexa had always been a workaholic. It was unusual for her to have such large gaps in her schedule.

"What about doing something just for fun?" she suggested, trying to draw Lexa out of her isolation.

Lexa’s eyes flicked to Anya, a flicker of defensiveness sparking in them. "With whom? Or should I take a vacation alone?" she shot back, her tone sharp but not entirely dismissive.

Anya hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "Maybe you could have dinner with Bjorn. I didn’t want to bring it up, but you’re overdue to be seen publicly together. It’s been three months since your last date," she said, her tone pragmatic.

Lexa’s shoulders slumped slightly as she sank into a chair, her fingers curling around the edge of the table. She stared at her hands for a long moment, her thoughts distant. Finally, she nodded, the movement slow and deliberate. "Okay, arrange it," she said, her voice quiet.

Anya didn’t push further, sensing Lexa’s internal struggle. "Dinner tonight?" she asked, her voice gentle.

Lexa shrugged again, her expression unreadable. "If he doesn’t have other plans," she murmured.

Anya pulled out her phone and quickly typed a message to Titus. A few moments later, she received a reply and looked up at Lexa. "It’s a date," she confirmed.

Lexa’s stylist and makeup artist fussed over her, presenting the usual selection of dresses and jewelry. Lexa eyed the options with uncertainty, feeling slightly out of place. It was just a date with her long-term boyfriend, for heaven's sake. "Can we go for something a bit more practical? Maybe a pair of pants?" Lexa asked, her tone tentative.

Her stylist paused in surprise, looking at her as if she had just suggested something revolutionary. "You want to wear pants?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lexa shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Still something elegant and feminine, just a bit more practical," she clarified.

The stylist nodded thoughtfully, then said, "Give me a moment," before turning toward her walk-in closet. He had only brought dresses with him, assuming that was the usual request. After a brief search, he returned with a pair of sleek, feminine dress pants and a beautifully tailored blouse.

They accessorized the look with elegant jewelry, and her hair and makeup were still done to perfection, highlighting her natural beauty without overwhelming her features. The result was a look that was both sophisticated and comfortable.

Lexa stood in front of the mirror, taking in the ensemble. She felt more at ease, appreciating the balance between style and practicality. She thanked both her stylist and makeup artist, her gratitude genuine.

Now, all that was left was to wait for Bjorn to arrive. She settled into a chair, glancing at the clock, her thoughts a mix of anticipation and slight apprehension about the evening ahead.

The silence between Lexa and Bjorn in the backseat of the sleek black car felt surprisingly comfortable to her. The city lights blurred past the tinted windows as Lexa leaned her head lightly against the seat. It was rare for her to enjoy such quiet, and she found herself appreciating the calmness, even if it was shared with Bjorn. To her, it felt like the easy quiet shared between old friends.

Bjorn, however, seemed less at ease. His leg bounced slightly, and he fidgeted with the cuffs of his shirt, glancing toward Lexa every so often. She noticed but didn’t comment. It was easier this way, letting the silence speak for itself.

When the car pulled up to the restaurant, the driver quickly stepped out to open the door for them. Lexa smoothed her outfit as she stepped out gracefully, waiting for Bjorn to join her. He offered her his arm, and she accepted, more for appearances than necessity.

The restaurant was intimate and elegant, with a soft glow from candles on the tables and the hum of quiet conversation filling the air. They were seated at a small table by the window, a crisp white tablecloth draped over it, with glasses of wine already poured.

Bjorn reached across the table, taking her hand in his. She allowed it, reminding herself of the reason for this outing.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot these past few months,” Bjorn said, his voice softer than usual.

“Really?” Lexa replied, genuinely surprised. She couldn’t recall thinking about him even once.

“I know what this is,” Bjorn continued, his thumb brushing lightly against her knuckles. “I understand the nature of our arrangement. But I can’t help wondering why someone like you would even need something like this. And… I don’t know. I feel like we’ve started to become friends.”

His words were careful, and Lexa could see a flicker of nerves beneath his usually confident exterior.

“When we weren’t seeing each other, I kept thinking about all the things I wanted to share with you,” he said, his voice gaining warmth. “Every time something exciting happened, I wanted to tell you about it. I thought about all the places I’d love to show you—like Denmark. Especially my hometown, Odense. It’s such a beautiful, historic place. Founded before 988, it’s where Hans Christian Andersen was born.”

“That does sound fascinating,” Lexa said cautiously, unsure of where he was going with this.

Bjorn hesitated, then seemed to gather his courage. “I was just thinking that maybe… maybe you’d like to go on a real date with me. Not for the cameras. A real one.”

Lexa blinked, caught off guard. It took all her willpower not to pull her hand away.

“Bjorn… I… that’s not… it’s not possible,” she said finally, her voice unsure.

His face fell, and he quickly backtracked. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Forget I mentioned it. I understand if you’re not interested. Please don’t feel uncomfortable now. That wasn’t my intention.”

“It’s okay,” Lexa said softly, though she knew it wouldn’t ease the awkwardness.

Bjorn shook his head as if trying to reset the conversation. “You know, I really thought I might be your type,” he admitted, his voice lighter but tinged with disappointment. “Looking at your past relationships, I figured I was... Maybe…”

Lexa hesitated, her mind racing. She reminded herself that they were becoming friends and that Bjorn was bound by the same confidentiality agreements as anyone else in her orbit. What harm could one more secret do? She took a deep breath, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Bjorn,” she began carefully. “About my exes… those relationships were all fake.”

Bjorn’s brows shot up in surprise. “All of them?”

“All the public ones, yes,” Lexa confirmed.

Before he could respond, a sudden flash from outside drew her attention. The paparazzi had found them. Lexa closed her eyes briefly, sighing. She leaned closer to Bjorn, lowering her voice.

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

Bjorn didn’t hesitate. He leaned in and kissed her. Their heads lingered close even after, their foreheads nearly touching.

“What do you mean by ‘the public ones’?” Bjorn asked in a hushed voice.

Lexa stayed close, keeping up the illusion of intimacy. “My real relationships… I’ve kept them completely private,” she murmured back.

Bjorn leaned back slowly, still holding her hand. “Why?”

Lexa hesitated, weighing her words. This wasn’t something she ever planned to reveal to him. “I’m telling you this because I see you as a friend,” she said quickly.

Bjorn nodded, his expression softening as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“I’m a lesbian,” she said finally, her voice steady but quiet.

Bjorn stared at her, stunned for a moment, before he nodded again. “Okay,” he said simply. Then, a small smile appeared. “I still want to show you Odense someday. As friends.”

Lexa felt herself relax, a genuine smile breaking across her face. “I’d like that,” she replied softly.

They ate their dinner in companionable small talk after that. The tension had eased, and the atmosphere felt lighter. Lexa realized halfway through the meal that she was drinking wine—her first glass since the flight home. She kept that information to herself.

Bjorn didn’t ask any more questions about her sexuality, and for that, Lexa was deeply grateful. She could feel the weight of his earlier confessions, but he seemed content to let it go, respecting the boundaries she’d drawn.

When they finished their meal, Lexa glanced out the window. The paparazzi flashes were still visible, faint but persistent, as shadows danced along the restaurant walls. They had been discreet during dinner, but she knew they were waiting.

As they stepped outside, Bjorn turned to her and asked, “Should I just take you home?”

Lexa was about to say yes—a simple, predictable answer—but the thought of returning to her quiet villa, empty and still, filled her with a sense of dread. She hesitated, her eyes scanning the street. It was then that she spotted a paparazzo lurking near the corner, camera at the ready.

Without thinking, she leaned into Bjorn, her hands resting lightly on his chest, and kissed him. He responded instinctively, wrapping his arms around her as if they were the most natural couple in the world.

When their lips parted, Lexa stayed close, her breath warm against his cheek. “Maybe we could go to a bar,” she whispered, her voice low enough that no one else could hear. “Have a beer?”

Bjorn’s face lit up with a genuine smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m Danish. We love beer,” he replied, his voice full of warmth and just a hint of amusement.

Lexa smiled back, feeling a rare sense of freedom in the spontaneity of her decision. Bjorn took her hand, lacing his fingers through hers, and they walked away from the restaurant, heading toward a nearby bar district. The flashes of cameras followed them, but for once, Lexa didn’t mind.

The city’s nightlife was alive around them, the sound of laughter and music spilling out from the open doors of bars and pubs. Bjorn led the way, his hand steady in hers, and Lexa let herself be swept up in the moment.

She didn’t know what the night held or how the world would interpret the photos tomorrow, but for now, she didn’t care. It was just her, Bjorn, and the promise of a good beer in a lively bar.

Bjorn and Lexa sat at the bar, each nursing a beer. The atmosphere was warm and intimate, the low hum of conversation around them punctuated by the clinking of glasses. Bjorn was animated as he spoke, his face lighting up when he talked about his family.

“They’ve always been there for me,” he said, a note of pride in his voice. “Even when I told them I wanted to move to the U.S., they didn’t try to talk me out of it. They just wanted me to be happy. It wasn’t easy for them to let me go, though. My dad cried at the airport.”

Lexa smiled faintly, though a pang of something sharp settled in her chest. She envied that kind of support, that unconditional love.

When the conversation shifted to her, Lexa hesitated. She hadn’t planned on talking about herself, but the beer had loosened her tongue. “My mom…” She trailed off, her gaze dropping to her half-empty glass. “She doesn’t really know me. I don’t think she ever tried. All she cared about was making me famous, getting my name in lights.”

Bjorn frowned slightly, but he didn’t interrupt. He just listened, his expression open and patient.

Lexa let out a small, bitter laugh. “Sometimes I wonder if she even likes me, or if she just likes what I represent.”

The thought hung heavy between them for a moment, but then Bjorn leaned in, offering a soft smile. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty great—or as I would say, ’Du er skøn.’”

Lexa stared at him for a moment, then laughed—loud and unrestrained. The sound startled her, and she felt a brief flush of embarrassment. When was the last time she’d laughed like that?

The table in front of them was now cluttered with empty glasses, the remnants of their conversations scattered among the condensation rings. Lexa realized she wasn’t sure how many drinks she’d had.

Bjorn eventually stood, mumbling something about needing the restroom. As he walked away, Lexa glanced around the bar, the dim lighting casting warm shadows across the room. It felt close, almost stifling. She decided she needed some fresh air.

The cool night air hit her as she stepped outside, and for a moment, it was a relief. But her legs felt unsteady, and she stumbled, catching herself against the rough surface of a brick wall.

“Alexandra Woods?”

The voice was soft, hesitant, but filled with awe. Lexa turned her head and blinked, trying to focus on the figure in front of her. A strikingly beautiful young woman stood there, her wide eyes shimmering with excitement.

“It’s really you,” the woman said, her voice trembling slightly. “I can’t believe it. I’m such a big fan. Your films... they’ve helped me so much. You’re so strong and beautiful. You gave me the courage to be myself.”

Lexa blinked again, trying to process the words. She usually loved meeting fans, but tonight, everything felt... off.

The woman stepped a little closer, her expression earnest. “Without you, I don’t think I would’ve had the confidence to come out. You’re such an inspiration. And you’re even more beautiful in person.”

The compliment hung in the air, and Lexa felt her heart flutter unexpectedly. She wasn’t thinking—she wasn’t sure she could think in that moment. Acting purely on impulse, she leaned forward and kissed the woman.

The kiss was soft, tentative, but then the woman kissed her back. For a fleeting moment, it felt good—simple and real.

“Alex?”

Bjorn’s voice rang out sharply, shattering the moment.

Lexa stumbled back, her balance precarious as she tore herself away from the woman. The young fan looked startled, her cheeks flushed, and before either of them could say anything, she turned and hurried off, disappearing into the night.

Bjorn appeared moments later, his brows furrowed in concern. “Alex, are you okay?”

“I can handle myself,” Lexa snapped, brushing his hand away when he tried to steady her.

“Alex, wait—”

“I said I can handle myself!” Lexa’s voice rose, her frustration bubbling over. She turned abruptly, her steps uneven as she stumbled down the street.

Bjorn followed a few paces, calling her name, but she didn’t stop. She ducked into a narrow alley, the shadows swallowing her up as she walked away from him.

The cool air stung her cheeks, and her heart pounded as she moved deeper into the maze of streets. She felt untethered, raw, and for the first time in years, she wasn’t sure where she was going—or if she even wanted to stop.

Lexa sat in the back of the car, the quiet hum of the engine blending with the rhythmic tapping of her fingers on the bottle she held in her lap. It was a full bottle of whiskey, the seal still intact, but it felt like an old friend she was almost afraid to confront. Her grip tightened around it as if it could offer her some semblance of control, even though she knew deep down that it would only make everything worse.

She hadn’t opened it yet, but she would. Once she got home. The thought of drinking it was a small, fleeting comfort—a way to numb the chaotic swirl of emotions inside her, the crash of everything she had been avoiding. The kiss on the street, the way everything seemed to slip from her hands, it was all so overwhelming. She had always prided herself on her ability to stay composed, to keep everything under wraps. But now, sitting here, holding the bottle, she felt utterly lost.

Lexa’s mind was a blur, caught between the weight of her actions and the painful awareness of what she was losing. She had kissed a fan. A stranger. On a whim. It had felt… good in the moment. But now, in the quiet of the car, the reality of it was sinking in. She couldn’t take it back. And now, it felt like the consequences were already in motion—unfolding like a slow, inevitable storm.

When she got home, she would drink it. Every last drop. Maybe then, she would feel something—anything—other than the gnawing panic. Maybe then, it would make sense, or at least help her forget how broken she felt.

For now, she held it close.

When Lexa finally arrived home, the stillness of the house swallowed her whole. She wandered aimlessly through her living room, the full whiskey bottle heavy in her hand, its glass cool against her skin. She had yet to open it, and as much as she knew she shouldn’t, it was becoming harder and harder to resist. The pull was there—quiet, insistent, beckoning her to drown out the overwhelming emptiness inside. But she resisted. Barely.

She paced the room, her footsteps echoing in the silence, each step heavier than the last. She felt like she was spiraling, but she couldn’t seem to stop. After what felt like the third lap around her home, she finally stopped. She pressed her phone against the wall, propping it up as a makeshift stand, and sank down to the floor. The whiskey remained beside her, unopened. But she could almost hear it calling to her, like a promise of escape.

Her guitar, though, was a lifeline. She reached for it, her fingers shaking slightly as she tuned it, the familiar hum of the strings grounding her in a way nothing else could. Then, she began to sing.

“I’ve been having a hard time adjusting
I had the shiniest wheels, now they’re rusting
I didn’t know if you’d care if I came back
I have a lot of regret about that.”

Her voice faltered, the words a raw confession. She hadn’t even realized the tears were slipping down her face until her throat tightened, the emotions she had been avoiding flooding to the surface. Her hands trembled as she gripped the guitar, but she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t stop herself from singing her pain, from letting the words spill out.

“They told me all of my cages were mental
So I got wasted like all my potential
I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere
Fell behind all my classmates, and I ended up here
pouring out my heart to a stranger
But I didn’t pour the whiskey.”

The last line lingered in the air, and Lexa realized she was crying now, her tears freely falling. She looked up at the camera, her face blurred with the raw emotion, her heart laid bare. But still, she sang.

“And it’s hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound
It’s hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you
You’re a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town
And I just wanted you to know
That this is me trying
I just wanted you to know
That this is me trying
At least I’m trying.”

Her voice cracked at the end, but she pushed through it, wanting to say everything she couldn’t put into words. She let the last note fade into the silence of the room.

When the video was finished, she stared at it for a long moment. Her thumb hovered over the screen before she pressed send. Her heart was pounding, but she needed to send this to someone who might understand. She needed Anya to hear it.

With a final glance at the guitar beside her, she pulled the blanket from the couch and wrapped herself in it. Her body ached with exhaustion, but her mind raced. She closed her eyes, knowing the whiskey would still be there when she woke up, but for now, she just needed the oblivion of sleep.

Lexa woke up to the sound of Anya’s voice filling the living room, her tone sharp and assertive as she scolded someone on the phone. Lexa's mind was foggy from the previous night, her head pounding slightly as she tried to gather herself. She could hear snippets of Anya's conversation, something about "damage control" and "making sure the narrative is handled."

Lexa blinked, her eyes still heavy with sleep. She glanced over, trying not to make any noise, but Anya had already caught her. "How bad is it?" Lexa asked, her voice groggy but steady, her body sinking back into the couch as she sat up.

Anya took a deep breath, putting the phone away. Her eyes met Lexa's with a serious gaze. "Bad," she replied bluntly, not skipping a beat.

Lexa nodded slowly, running a hand through her disheveled hair. She hesitated before asking, "What's the story?"

Anya paused, the lines of her face softening for a moment as she processed the question. Then, with a reluctant sigh, she replied, "There are pictures. Pictures of you and Bjorn on your date. Your kiss. Photos of you both drinking at a bar. You looking very drunk. And then there's you kissing another woman. There are pictures of Bjorn confronting you... and you shoving him away."

Lexa's stomach twisted. She closed her eyes tight and pulled the blanket over her head, the weight of the situation sinking in. "Fuck," she muttered, her voice muffled.

Anya’s voice was serious when she continued. "The story's simple: you went on a date, got too drunk, and then Bjorn was cheated on by you with another woman. They're painting you as cold and indifferent, someone who uses people."

Lexa let out a shaky breath, the pressure of the world feeling like it was collapsing on top of her. She peeked out from under the blanket, but her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke. "I'm sorry. I don't know what happened."

Anya’s expression softened a little, her sharpness melting away just slightly. She walked over and sat next to Lexa, her tone gentler. "You slipped," she said. "It’s that simple. But it’s gonna have consequences."

"Steel already called," Anya continued. "He's pulled the movie offer. It's done."

"Fuck," Lexa whispered again, her eyes vacant as she stared at the floor.

Anya stayed quiet for a moment before speaking again. "I’ve got an idea. It's not great, but it could generate some attention around your music, and then we can focus on that for a while."

Lexa sat up a little straighter, curiosity piquing. "What’s the idea?"

Anya looked at her for a long moment, as though weighing the decision in her mind. She was silent for a few more seconds before speaking, her voice hesitant. "We leak your video from last night. The one with the song. It paints a different picture than the one they're trying to sell—of someone who's just... broken, struggling with alcohol, not someone who's cold and heartless. It shows you in a vulnerable light."

Lexa swallowed hard, a heavy breath escaping her lips. The idea made her stomach turn, she had never been that open with the public before. She looked up at Anya, conflicted. "It’s honest," she said slowly. "The video... it's so raw."

Anya nodded. "The song is beautiful, and the video heartbreaking. It might get the sympathy you desperately need right now. Of course, we'd have a statement ready afterward—something about your computer being hacked and you’re sorry for everything that’s happened."

Lexa stared off into space for a moment, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. She bit her lip before speaking again, her voice small. "Do you think it’s a good idea?"

Anya shrugged lightly. "Better than doing nothing. This story will follow you."

Lexa sighed deeply, her eyes closing as she took it all in. She knew there was no easy way out of this. After a long pause, she nodded. "Let’s do it."

Clarke sat on Niylah’s couch, her eyes glued to the news on her laptop. The story of Lexa’s infidelity was everywhere, plastered across every headline. The photos were impossible to ignore, their meaning clear and undeniable. But Clarke knew that wasn’t the full story. She understood how fiercely Lexa protected her private life, how much she valued her career. This had to be tearing her apart. Clarke’s heart ached just thinking about it. She wanted to reach out to Lexa, hold her, offer some kind of comfort, but she didn’t know how.

"Hey, have you seen the video of your ex?" Niylah’s voice broke through her thoughts. She was sitting at the dining table, also engrossed in her screen. A video? Clarke’s stomach tightened. She couldn’t help but imagine it was footage of the kiss between Lexa and the other woman—or maybe the moment where Lexa pushed Bjorn away in front of everyone.

“She’s not my ex,” Clarke replied, her voice quieter than she intended. She stood up, the need to see the video gnawing at her. She walked over to Niylah's computer, her fingers trembling slightly as she prepared herself for whatever she was about to watch.

The video loaded, and Clarke’s breath caught in her throat as Lexa came into view. Lexa was sitting on the floor of her living room, tears streaming down her face. A bottle of whiskey sat abandoned next to her. She strummed her guitar gently, the chords soft and melancholic, before starting to sing, her voice raw with emotion:

"And it's hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound,
It’s hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you."

Clarke felt a sharp pain in her chest. She knew she was the ‘you’ in Lexa’s song, and hearing it, seeing Lexa like this, felt like a blow to her heart. Lexa’s voice trembled as she continued to sing, her vulnerability hanging in the air:

"And I just wanted you to know,
That this is me trying."

Clarke couldn’t keep watching. Her fingers froze on the keyboard, and she hit pause, the weight of Lexa’s pain settling over her like a heavy blanket. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to shake off the feeling that was creeping in.

"It's a leaked video from her private computer." Niylah said softly. "I didn’t know she could sing like that, or write such beautiful songs."

"I didn’t either," Clarke lied, her eyes locked on a still frame of Lexa, mid-breakdown. The image of Lexa, so broken and exposed, left Clarke feeling empty. The pain in her chest deepened as she realized how much Lexa must be hurting. She wanted to help.

Chapter Text

Lexa tried her best to avoid reading comments or news about herself—it had always been her policy. But back then, her image had been tightly controlled. No scandals, no swirling rumors, just a polished and spotless public persona. Now, everything felt like it was spiraling out of control.

She sat on the edge of her unmade bed in the darkness of her bedroom. The heavy curtains were drawn tightly shut, blocking out the daylight. Her phone screen cast a harsh glow across her face as she scrolled through article after article, the headlines screaming at her: "Alexandra Woods: Hollywood's Newest Scandal?" and "From Golden Girl to Cautionary Tale."

Against her better judgment, she dove into the comment sections. She knew it would hurt, but something in her craved to see what they were saying.

"Guess she’s as fake as her red-carpet smiles."
"Her PR team must be working overtime to clean up this disaster."
"No wonder her career is tanking—she’s too busy partying and cheating to care about her work."

Lexa’s chest tightened as she read each harsh word, her grip on the phone tightening. She took a shaky breath and switched to a different site, hoping it would be better—but it wasn’t.

"She’s drunk half the time; how does she even remember her lines?"
"Guess loyalty doesn’t matter when you’re rich and famous."
"Poor Bjorn dodged a bullet. She clearly can’t handle a real relationship."
"Another Hollywood cliché: drinking, lying, and ruining lives."
"All that effort to seem perfect, and now the cracks are showing."

Her eyes lingered on the last comment. "All that effort to seem perfect, and now the cracks are showing." The words echoed in her mind, cutting deeper than she expected. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the screen. It felt like they could all see through her, through the facade she’d so carefully built. And they were right—the cracks were showing.

Desperate to distract herself, she clicked on a subreddit called "AlexGaydra." The name alone made her hesitate, but curiosity won out. The first post she saw was titled, "The Kiss That Proves It All?" Lexa swallowed hard and clicked on it.

The thread was a heated discussion about the photos of her kissing the woman outside the bar.

"This might finally be the proof we’ve been waiting for!" wrote one user.

"Just because she kissed a woman while drunk doesn’t prove anything. I wish it did!" replied another.

"Come on, it’s obvious! She’s miserable with Bjorn because she’s a lesbian!"

"She’s dated plenty of men before. At most, she’s bisexual."

"I don’t care! If she’s into women, I have a chance!"

Lexa felt her face burn as she read the comments, the mix of speculation and obsession making her stomach churn. She scrolled further until one comment caught her attention:

"Does anyone recognize the woman? She’s the luckiest person alive!"

Her eyes flicked to the reply directly underneath it.

"That’s me! The video is of me! I gave my full consent to the kiss. I’m a huge fan of Alexandra, and now I totally believe in AlexGaydra!" wrote a user named Tia96637.

Lexa froze, her heart pounding. Her thumb hovered over the username for a moment before she clicked on it. The profile didn’t reveal much—just a handful of posts and comments, most of them fangirling over Lexa’s movies.

She sat back against the headboard, her mind racing. She couldn’t believe someone had claimed the kiss so openly, or that people were now dissecting her sexuality like it was their business. Her eyes stung again, but she blinked back the tears. This wasn’t just about her anymore. It was a wildfire, and she was at the center of it.

Lexa walked out toward the waiting car, her phone clutched tightly in her hand. The soft click of her boots against the pavement echoed in the quiet morning air. She had a meeting with Anya, and the thought alone made her stomach churn. There was still so much to do, so many fires to put out before this crisis could even begin to feel manageable.

Sliding into the backseat of the sleek black car, she nodded at the driver, who offered her a polite smile through the rearview mirror. She didn’t return it. Instead, she stared down at her phone, her thumb hovering over the screen as if it held answers, she desperately needed.

Notifications were piling up—messages from her team, missed calls from numbers she didn’t recognize, and social media alerts she refused to open. She knew what they would say. She knew the world was talking about her, dissecting every moment of that night, every kiss, every stumble. The weight of it all pressed down on her chest like a vice.

Lexa also couldn’t shake the thought of that username: Tia96637. Was it really the woman she had kissed that night? The idea tugged at her relentlessly, her mind replaying the moment in vivid detail—the shock in the woman’s eyes, the way she had hurried off into the night after Bjorn appeared. It wasn’t just guilt that gnawed at her; it was the need to make things right, to apologize for dragging her into the whirlwind of Lexa’s chaotic life.

What would she even say if she found her? How could she possibly explain herself?

“Hi, I’m sorry for kissing you in a drunken mess and accidentally turning you into a headline,” she thought bitterly. No apology felt like it could undo the damage. Still, Lexa couldn’t let it go. She wanted to know if this Tia was okay, if she was being hounded by reporters now, her name thrown into the frenzy just because of one stupid, impulsive mistake.

She sighed, staring out the car window as the city rolled by. Maybe Anya would know what to do. Maybe there was a way to reach out to this woman without causing more harm.

Lexa felt the weight of how her actions affected someone else. And she hated that this stranger—this woman she didn’t even know—had become collateral damage in Lexa’s downward spiral.

The city blurred past, its usual hum of life muted by the fog in her own head. She caught a glimpse of a billboard advertising a romantic comedy she’d starred in last year, her face glowing with the kind of perfect confidence she no longer recognized in herself. That version of her felt like a stranger now.

Her phone buzzed in her hand, snapping her out of her thoughts. It was a text from Anya: "See you soon. Be ready to discuss next steps." Lexa exhaled sharply, her fingers tightening around the device. Next steps. That’s all anyone seemed to care about—spinning the narrative, figuring out how to salvage what was left of her reputation.

She leaned her head back against the seat, closing her eyes for a moment and letting the quiet hum of the car engine settle her nerves.

The whiskey bottle sat forgotten on her kitchen counter at home, unopened but looming in her mind like a ghost. She had resisted it then, but the urge hadn’t gone away. She could still feel it, like a whisper in the back of her mind, offering an easy escape.

Whatever Anya had planned, Lexa knew one thing for sure: she couldn’t afford to slip again. Not now.

Lexa stepped into Anya’s office, her thoughts preoccupied. “Hey, Anya, I’ve been thinking about something. Do you think we could—” She stopped mid-sentence as she noticed Anya wasn’t alone. Sitting across from her were Bjorn and Titus.

Titus looked furious, though he was clearly trying to mask it behind a thin veneer of professionalism. Bjorn, on the other hand, met her gaze with something softer—sympathy, maybe even understanding.

“Hi, Alex,” Anya said, gesturing toward an empty chair. “We have some guests. We need to finalize a plan for how we’re going to handle this... situation with your relationship.”

Lexa nodded slowly and sat down, her hands resting tensely in her lap. She didn’t say anything, instead waiting for someone else to break the suffocating silence.

“We have two options,” Anya began. “You can either continue the relationship or announce a breakup.”

“There’s nothing to continue!” Titus cut in sharply, his voice cold and final. “If Bjorn stays in this relationship, he’ll look weak—a pushover who tolerates anything. That’s not happening.”

“Alright,” Anya said, clearly working to remain patient with him. “So, they break up. What’s the story we’re going with?”

Titus didn’t hesitate. “We tell it like it is. Alexandra cheated on Bjorn, and he left her because of it.”

Anya’s calm façade cracked slightly. Her tone turned steely. “That’s not happening. We’re not throwing Alex under the bus for this.”

“We’re not throwing her under the bus,” Titus countered, his voice rising. “We’re telling the truth.”

Before the tension could escalate further, Bjorn spoke up, his voice measured and deliberate. “We say we broke up before she kissed the woman. That way, it’s not cheating.”

Lexa had kept her eyes fixed on the table during most of the conversation, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on her. But at Bjorn’s words, she finally looked up and met his gaze. He gave her a small, reassuring smile.

“That won’t hold,” Titus snapped. “There are photos of the two of you together, looking perfectly happy. No one’s going to buy that you were already broken up.”

Anya nodded, her expression neutral but her tone firm. “He’s right. The photos from the date are already public. It’s impossible to claim you were broken up.”

Bjorn shrugged, unfazed. “The photos are from earlier in the evening. There’s a gap of hours between those and the kiss. We say I ended things at the bar after the date, and Alex, understandably upset, drank too much and made a mistake.”

Titus scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “So, what? You’re taking the fall? Why would you do that?”

Bjorn didn’t even glance at Titus. His focus was entirely on Lexa. “Because Alex and I are friends,” he said simply. “That’s what we tell the public. I’ll apologize for the poor timing of our breakup, but we make it clear we’re still on good terms. We’ll even attend a few events together as friends to show there’s no bad blood. After that, we can gradually distance ourselves.”

Anya leaned back in her chair, considering the idea. “It could work,” she admitted.

Titus didn’t look happy, but he threw up his hands in reluctant agreement. “If that’s what Bjorn wants, fine.”

Lexa nodded slowly, her throat tight with emotion. She turned to Bjorn, her lips twitching into a grateful smile. She was overwhelmed by his generosity and his willingness to protect her from further fallout.

She had been right to trust him with the truth. And for the first time in days, a glimmer of hope began to push through the haze of guilt and regret.

Bjorn gave Lexa a warm hug before he and Titus left Anya's office. Titus still seemed annoyed, but Bjorn sent Lexa one last encouraging smile before the door closed behind them. The silence that followed felt heavy, but Anya broke it quickly as she turned back to her computer and began typing intently.

Lexa lingered for a moment, hesitating, before sitting down in the chair across from Anya. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, before finally mustering up the courage. "There’s something I wanted to ask you," she said quietly.

Anya, still focused on her screen, replied without looking up. "Yeah? What’s on your mind?"

Lexa wrung her hands nervously, pausing again before cautiously saying, "I… I found someone on Reddit who claims to be her."

Anya didn’t look up right away, still focused on her typing. "Who?" she asked, distracted.

Lexa took a deep breath. "Her," she repeated, her voice just a little louder.

Anya stopped typing, her fingers hovering over the keyboard as she slowly raised her gaze. Her expression was sharp and curious. "Who’s 'her'?" she asked, this time with a hint of suspicion in her voice.

Lexa met her eyes and finally said, "The woman from that night."

Anya leaned back in her chair, exhaling deeply. "Alex… I don’t think that’s a good idea," she said, hesitation laced in her tone.

"I just want to apologize," Lexa said quickly. " The pictures in the media are of her too. She’s been dragged into this mess because of me."

Anya narrowed her eyes slightly, clearly weighing the potential risks. After a long pause, she said, "Okay…"

Lexa felt a small flicker of hope. "The problem is," she began, staring down at the table, "I only have her Reddit username."

Anya ran a hand down her face and sighed again. She didn’t look thrilled, but after a moment, she said, "I might know someone who can help with that."

"Really?" Lexa asked, her eyes lighting up.

"I can try to ask if it’s even possible to track her down from just that," Anya replied, her tone still cautious.

"Of course. I just want to apologize to her," Lexa said, her voice full of sincerity.

Anya nodded slowly, though her expression remained guarded. "I’ll see what I can do, but promise me one thing, Alex—think carefully about what you’re going to say if we do find her."

Lexa nodded earnestly. "I promise."

Anya held a small slip of paper in her hand, the weight of the scrawled Reddit username feeling far heavier than it should. She was exhausted. PR crises always sucked the life out of her, especially when they involved someone she cared about. And this wasn’t just any client—it was Lexa, her friend. Her friend who was teetering on the edge of a full-blown breakdown.

As she stepped through the door, the familiar warmth of home wrapped around her, but it did little to ease her tension. Anya dropped her bag by the door and made her way to the couch, letting herself collapse onto the cushions with a long exhale.

“Tough day at work, love?” Raven’s voice cut through the silence, soft and steady. She looked up from her laptop, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she took in the sight of Anya sprawled out beside her.

“Busy,” Anya replied, her voice flat. She ran a hand through her hair, already dreading tomorrow. “Bjorn’s manager is a complete asshole.”

Raven tilted her head, intrigued. “Is he going to cause trouble for you?”

Anya let out a humorless laugh. “No, thankfully. Bjorn’s solid. He’s a genuinely good guy. We’ll protect Alex.” Her voice softened slightly at the mention of Lexa, betraying just how much the whole situation was weighing on her.

Raven nodded, watching her carefully. She’d seen the toll this whole mess was taking, not just on Lexa but on Anya too.

“I do have a small favor to ask,” Anya said suddenly, breaking the silence. She hesitated for a moment, then turned to meet Raven’s gaze.

“Shoot,” Raven replied, setting her laptop aside and giving Anya her full attention.

Anya took a deep breath, her fingers fidgeting with the piece of paper. “Can you… can you track someone down using just a Reddit username?”

Raven blinked, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Maybe,” she said slowly, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “Why? What’s this about?”

Anya sighed, leaning back into the couch. “Alex wants to apologize to the woman she kissed that night. She found someone on Reddit claiming to be her.” The words came out in a rush, and there was a hint of exasperation in her tone, though it was clear her frustration wasn’t directed at Lexa.

Raven’s lips twitched, amusement fighting its way through her surprise. “Of course she does,” she muttered, shaking her head. Then, as she processed the request, her expression turned thoughtful. “And you think this Reddit user might actually be her?”

“I don’t know,” Anya admitted, her shoulders sagging slightly. “I’m not sure if it’s even a good idea to find her, but I promised Alex I’d ask you.”

Raven studied Anya for a moment, her gaze lingering on the scrap of paper. “Alright,” she said, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Do you want me to really try, or should I fail on purpose?”

Anya let out a tired laugh, shaking her head. “I’m not going to lie to her. Give it an honest try. If we find her… we’ll deal with whatever comes next.”

Raven nodded, her smirk softening into something more genuine. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do.”

The challenge intrigued her, and she couldn’t resist the itch of curiosity. Without hesitation, she grabbed her laptop from the coffee table. Anya watched her for a moment, a flicker of unease crossing her face, but she said nothing. Instead, she leaned back, closing her eyes and letting herself relax for the first time all day—if only for a few minutes.

Clarke walked through the door, her shoulders heavy with fatigue. Still, she managed a soft smile as she approached Raven and Anya. “Did you have a good day?” she asked gently.

Raven was deeply engrossed in her new task, her focus unbroken, but Anya glanced up and replied, “Busy, but it went alright.”

Clarke nodded thoughtfully, her expression pensive. After a moment, she asked, “How’s Lexa?”

Anya held Clarke’s gaze for a long time before answering, her tone carefully measured. “She’s struggling right now, but I’m hoping she’ll pull through.”

Clarke’s brow furrowed, concern clouding her features. She opened her mouth to say something, but Raven, breaking from her focus, interjected, “Why wouldn’t she?”

Anya turned toward Raven, debating how much to share. She hadn’t told anyone about finding Lexa that morning—about how she had stumbled upon her friend teetering on the edge of something irreversible.

“She’s not doing well,” Anya said finally, keeping her tone as neutral as possible.

Clarke’s face grew more troubled at Anya’s words, but it was Raven who pushed further. “Well, it’s not like that’ll kill her,” Raven said, her bluntness cutting through the tension like a knife.

Anya loved Raven—she loved her directness—but sometimes, that same bluntness grated on her. “It can if you do something stupid,” Anya replied curtly, the words sharper than she intended.

Raven blinked in surprise, the weight of Anya’s tone settling over her. After a pause, she said hesitantly, “Do something stupid as in…”

“Raven… it’s too awful to even say,” Clarke murmured, horrified by the implication.

Raven, still processing, asked, “Is she really that far gone?” Her voice was quieter now, more careful.

Anya shrugged, though the motion felt heavy. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But right now, the focus has to be on getting her through this.”

Clarke nodded, determination flickering in her eyes. “I want to be there for her,” she said firmly. “I want to see her. Can you make sure she gets an official invitation to my exhibition?”

Anya gave her a small, tired smile. “Of course,” she said.

Lexa skimmed the article Anya had sent her, her stomach twisting with a mix of anxiety and relief as her eyes moved over the text. It was an interview with Bjorn, one where he spoke openly about the night at the bar—the night everything had fallen apart. He explained, with his usual calm demeanor, how he couldn’t see them as more than friends anymore, how he had gently broken the news to her.

He’d gone on to describe how Lexa had agreed with him but had still been visibly upset. He admitted that maybe she’d had a drink too many afterward.

Bjorn had insisted, several times, that they were still good friends. When the interviewer had pushed him—prodding for drama. He’d held his ground. “We broke up before the kiss,” he’d said firmly. “She didn’t cheat on me.”

Lexa’s chest felt tight as she read the words. For the first time in days, an article painted her as something other than the villain in this story. Bjorn had gone out of his way to protect her, to soften the blow to her image and she was grateful.

She scrolled down to the comments section, unsure what she was looking for, and found a mix of responses. Some were kind. Others were still sharp, skeptical, questioning the timing, the motives, the sincerity.

Her fingers hovered over her phone. Without fully deciding to, she navigated to Reddit and found herself in the "AlexGaydra" community. The page loaded slowly, her heart thumping in her chest as she wondered what they were saying now.

Of course, they had read the article. The thread was buzzing with activity, fans dissecting every word, speculating wildly. Many were debating if this was the first step in her coming out.

Lexa’s breath caught as she spotted a post from the user she’d been thinking about: Tia96637.

“It’s such a relief to read that they had already broken up,” Tia had written. “I didn’t like the idea of being part of something that hurt someone else.”

The words hit Lexa like a weight dropping onto her chest. She could practically hear the sincerity in the comment, the faint echo of guilt and worry that mirrored her own feelings.

Other users had replied to Tia’s comment, their excitement spilling into the thread.

“Wait, was it really you who kissed Alexandra?”
“Oh my God, you’re the luckiest lesbian alive!”

Lexa stared at the screen, her thumb idly brushing the edge of her phone as her heart raced. She could still see Tia in her mind—the dim lights framing her face, the softness in her expression, the way her dark eyes had drawn Lexa in. She could almost hear her voice, though the memory was blurred by alcohol and emotion.

She let out a shaky breath, her fingers tightening around her phone. Why was she doing this to herself? She couldn’t reach out—not now, maybe not ever. It would be selfish, wouldn’t it? To pull this woman back into the chaos that was her life.

But she couldn’t help it. The image of Tia’s face, the brief moment they’d shared, lingered in her mind like a melody that refused to fade. It wasn’t just the kiss. It was the way Tia had looked at her, the way Tia had wanted her.

For the first time in days, the faintest flicker of warmth sparked in her chest. Maybe there was someone out there who didn’t see her as a disaster, a failure, or a liar. Maybe, just maybe.

Lexa’s phone buzzed in her hand, pulling her attention away from the screen she’d been staring at absentmindedly. Without thinking, she answered, swiping to take the call without checking who it was.

“Hello,” she said distractedly, her voice flat.

“What the hell is going on? Why are you sabotaging your career like this?” came the sharp, unmistakable voice on the other end.

Lexa froze, her stomach sinking. She should have checked.

“Hi, Mom,” she said tiredly, already bracing for the onslaught.

“Are you doing this on purpose? Trying to ruin my new season too? Is it not enough that you’re destroying your own life?” her mother snapped, her tone biting.

“Your new season?” Lexa asked, confused.

“As if you didn’t know! The new season of my reality show just started filming, and your mess is overshadowing everything!”

“Sorry,” Lexa murmured, her voice small, feeling once again like a child being scolded. “I didn’t realize.”

“Well, maybe you should start realizing. Why would you let that handsome man break up with you? What on earth did you do to him?”

“Nothing,” Lexa said, keeping her tone as even as possible, though her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

“Clearly, you did something wrong! And then you went and kissed a fan? Honestly, Alexandra. If you have some... weird thing about getting involved with fans, do it in private, not where the whole world can see!”

“Mom!” Lexa snapped, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “I don’t have a ‘thing’ for fans!”

“Well, good! I don’t know what your manager is doing letting this get so out of hand. Maybe my manager can help steer you back on the right track.”

“I don’t need a new manager,” Lexa said, her voice strained.

“Clearly, I’ve let you make far too many decisions on your own. You’re obviously incapable of handling your career responsibly.”

“Let me?” Lexa echoed, her temper flaring. “Mom, I’m an adult!”

“Enough excuses,” her mother cut her off, her tone dismissive. “I don’t have time to come deal with you myself now that the cameras are rolling, but I’m sending your brother to check in on you.”

“Mom!” Lexa said, exasperated, but her protest was met with silence as her mother plowed ahead.

“No complaining, Alexandra. It’s settled. He’ll be there soon,” her mother said curtly before hanging up without so much as a goodbye.

Lexa stared at her phone, her jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. She couldn’t believe she’d answered without looking. She knew better. She’d saved her mother’s number as The Ice Queen for a reason.

Dropping the phone onto the couch beside her, Lexa buried her face in her hands, groaning. As if her life wasn’t chaotic enough, now her brother was coming.

Why couldn’t she have just let the call go to voicemail?

It was late, and Lexa usually didn’t call Anya outside of work hours, but the news about her brother Roan coming to visit felt urgent. She tapped Anya’s number and waited as the line rang. It rang longer than usual, and just as she was convinced it would go to voicemail, someone picked up.

“Hello, this is Anya’s phone,” came the voice on the other end.

Lexa froze. She’d recognize that voice anywhere. Clarke.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” Clarke asked, her tone curious. Did Clarke not check the caller ID before answering?

“Hello?” Clarke repeated, and finally, Lexa found her voice.

“Hi, it’s me. Alex. Lexa,” she said, her words tumbling out awkwardly.

“Oh, hey. Anya’s in the shower,” Clarke replied casually.

“Oh… okay,” Lexa murmured. It hadn’t occurred to her until now that it wasn’t just Raven living with Anya—Clarke was staying there too, and likely Octavia as well. The thought stung. Here she was, missing Clarke, while Anya had her right there in her home.

“She should be out soon,” Clarke added, breaking the silence.

“Okay,” Lexa said again, unsure what else to say. The air between them felt heavy, awkward.

“How are you doing?” Clarke asked, her voice softer now.

“I’m… okay,” Lexa replied hesitantly.

“Anya probably hasn’t had the chance to tell you yet, but you’re invited to my exhibition. I really hope you can come,” Clarke said.

“Oh,” Lexa said, her chest tightening. “Is Anya almost done with her shower?” she asked, eager to end the conversation. She didn’t know if she could keep this up much longer.

“I don’t know. The water’s still running,” Clarke replied.

“Right. Could you just let her know that my mom called? My brother is on his way to visit me. Anya will know what that means,” Lexa said, trying to keep her tone neutral.

“Of course,” Clarke said gently.

“Thanks for that,” Lexa said quickly before hanging up.

She stared at the phone in her hand, her chest tightening even more. It had been so long since she’d heard Clarke’s voice, and she hadn’t realized how much it would affect her. It made her feel… fragile. More fragile than she wanted to admit.

The tears welled up before she could stop them, and Lexa let out a shaky breath. Hearing Clarke’s voice had stirred something inside her, something she wasn’t ready to face. The ache of missing her was stronger than ever, and Lexa felt truly alone.

Clarke stared at the phone in her hand, her thoughts swirling. Hearing Lexa's voice again had sent a shock through her system. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard it—Clarke still regularly played the songs Lexa had sent her, clinging to the comfort they brought. But hearing her voice live, unfiltered, was something else entirely. It reminded Clarke of just how much she missed her.

And she did. Clarke missed Lexa deeply. There was no denying that. But it didn’t change her decision. She couldn’t live in hiding, not when she had spent so long fighting for her truth. Lexa, on the other hand, was buried deep in the closet, with no intention of coming out. Clarke couldn’t go back to a place where she had to hide pieces of herself.

She sighed and set the phone down on the coffee table, leaning back into the couch. When Anya finally came out of the bathroom, dressed in pajamas and looking ready to crash for the night, Clarke straightened up.

“Anya,” Clarke said, her tone serious. “Lexa called. She said her mom rang her, and her brother is on his way to visit her.”

The relaxed expression on Anya’s face vanished instantly, replaced by a look of concern.

“Is she okay?” Anya asked, her voice sharp with worry.

Clarke hesitated. “She didn’t really say much else,” she admitted.

“How long ago did she call?” Anya pressed.

“Maybe twenty minutes ago,” Clarke replied, glancing at the clock.

Anya nodded quickly, her worry etched in every movement. “I’ll call her back,” she said, already taking her phone from the coffee table.

Without another word, Anya headed into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her to make the call. Clarke watched her go, her chest tightening. She couldn’t help but wonder if Lexa was okay.

Clarke curled her legs under her and stared out into space. She tried to push down the surge of guilt and sadness threatening to rise. She cared about Lexa deeply—more than she wanted to admit. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough to make things work.

And as much as it hurt, Clarke reminded herself that walking away had been the right thing to do. Even if a part of her heart still ached for Lexa.

Clarke missed Lexa now more than she had in a long time. The ache in her chest suddenly felt heavier, and eventually, she gave in to it. Grabbing her phone and headphones, she slipped into her bed, pulling the duvet tightly around her like it might shield her. She put on her headphones, her fingers hesitating for a moment before opening a video Lexa had sent her in the early, delicate days of their relationship.

The screen lit up with Lexa’s face. She was sitting cross-legged on a bed in a hotel room. It was the hotel Lexa had gone to after leaving Clarke in her original hotel bed that first morning, too scared, too unsure to stay. Her hair was slightly tousled, her face bare of makeup, and her expression soft with vulnerability. Lexa cradled a guitar in her lap, her fingers gently plucking the strings as her voice, warm and low, filled the air.

"Walls of insincerity,
Shifting eyes and vacancy,
Vanished when I saw your face.
All I can say is,
It was enchanting to meet you."

The song drifted from the phone into Clarke’s ears, wrapping around her like a memory she wanted to hold onto forever. She couldn’t take her eyes off Lexa. Her soft gaze, the way she swayed ever so slightly to the rhythm, the sincerity in her voice—Lexa was beautiful in a way that felt almost unfair. Clarke didn’t understand how she had ever looked away from her.

"This is me praying that
This was the very first page,
Not where the story line ends.
My thoughts will echo your name until I see you again.
These are the words I held back as I was leaving too soon.
I was enchanted to meet you."

Clarke closed her eyes, letting the song wrap around her like a comforting hug. In her mind, she wasn’t alone in her bed; Lexa was sitting right beside her, singing with that same gentle sincerity, her eyes locked on Clarke’s as if the words were meant for no one else. The image was so vivid that it brought a fresh ache to her chest.

"Please don’t be in love with someone else,
Please don’t have somebody waiting on you."

As Lexa’s voice carried the final notes, the video ended, leaving Clarke staring at the frozen image of her on the screen. Lexa’s soft, uncertain smile lingered there, etched into the moment forever. Clarke reached up and brushed away a tear she hadn’t even realized had fallen, her chest tightening painfully.

Her voice was barely a whisper as she spoke to the still image.

“I’m sorry.”

Chapter Text

Clarke had been busy the past few days, pouring every ounce of energy into her exhibition. And now, standing in the completed gallery, she took a deep breath, her chest tight with a mixture of pride and nerves. The space was perfect, exactly as she had envisioned it. The music playing softly in the background set the tone, and the lighting was meticulously arranged—sharp and bright in some areas, dim and moody in others, with splashes of color that felt alive. A hidden fog machine waited for the right moment to add an ethereal effect, and her paintings hung precisely where they needed to be.

Most of the pieces were the ones she had painted that miserable day in the beach house, raw expressions of her heartbreak. But others, painted in the weeks and months since, joined them, each one dripping with sorrow, longing, and shattered dreams. Together, they created an overwhelming narrative of grief and broken hearts. Clarke felt both proud and terrified. It was surreal that tonight, people would walk through these halls and immerse themselves in her emotions.

She stood in the middle of the room, her hands fidgeting at her sides as she gazed over her work. The weight of the evening pressed down on her shoulders. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was something missing—something she should do, or could do, to make it all better, to make it perfect.

Niylah appeared at her side, slipping her hand into Clarke's. Their fingers intertwined, and the gentle warmth of Niylah's touch pulled Clarke out of her spiraling thoughts.

“You’ve done an amazing job. It’s ready, and so are you,” Niylah said, her voice soft yet steady.

Clarke nodded, giving Niylah’s hand a small squeeze, but the tension in her chest didn’t ease. This night had the power to launch her art career—or destroy it entirely. The thought was suffocating, and the doubt she tried so hard to ignore crept back in.

Niylah must have sensed that her reassurance wasn’t getting through. She stepped in front of Clarke, blocking her view of the paintings, forcing Clarke to focus on her instead.

“You’re ready,” Niylah said, her voice firm and resolute. Then, leaning forward, she kissed Clarke.

Clarke kissed her back, almost automatically, as if seeking comfort in the familiarity of Niylah's presence. She wasn’t sure when their relationship had truly begun. For her, it had started as solace—a warm body to hold onto when her heart felt too heavy to bear alone. But now... it was hard to deny what they had. It wasn’t just comfort anymore. It was something more.

As the kiss ended, Clarke looked at Niylah, searching her face for reassurance. The weight in her chest lightened, just a little.

“Thank you,” Clarke whispered, her voice almost breaking.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Niylah replied with a soft smile. “Just trust yourself, Clarke. You’ve poured your heart into this. Let them see it.”

Clarke nodded again, a flicker of determination in her eyes. Tonight would be terrifying, yes, but maybe—just maybe—it would also be the start of something extraordinary.

Lexa wasn’t exactly surprised when her doorbell rang. She had been expecting it, dreading it, really. So, her steps to the door felt heavy, as if each one carried the weight of the years of distance between her and the person waiting on the other side. She took a deep breath before opening it, steeling herself for what was to come.

There he was: Roan, her twin brother, standing in the hallway with that same easy confidence he had always carried, a confidence she sometimes envied. He had their mother’s approval, her affection, and her praise—things Lexa had stopped craving out loud but still felt the sting of not having.

“Hey, Roan,” Lexa said, her voice a touch too stiff, betraying the tension she felt.

“Hey, sis. Nice to see you—and your place,” Roan said, stepping inside without hesitation. He glanced around as he added, “You’ve never invited me over before.”

Lexa closed the door behind him and leaned against it briefly. “Did you even want to be invited?” she asked, the question sharper than she intended.

Roan shrugged, his expression unreadable. “It would’ve been nice.”

As he moved further into her house, Lexa stayed rooted in place for a moment, watching him. He seemed so at ease, his eyes roaming over the space as if cataloging her life. She wondered what he was thinking, whether he was silently judging her choice of decor or imagining what he would tell their mother later. The thought sent a prickle of irritation through her.

“My liquor’s over there if you need something to report back to Mom,” Lexa said, nodding toward the whiskey bottle on the counter. Her tone was biting, laced with years of resentment that she couldn’t quite keep out.

Roan froze for a second, then turned to face her, confusion flashing across his face. “What?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” she pressed, her arms crossing defensively. “To be Mom’s eyes and ears? To find something new to criticize me for?”

For a moment, silence hung heavy between them. Roan studied her, his expression softening slightly. “Mom’s not here, Alexandra,” he said, his voice calm. “She doesn’t get to dictate what I do. If you don’t want me here, just say so. I’ll find a hotel and come up with a good excuse to tell her.”

Lexa’s posture faltered, her shoulders dropping a fraction. The sharp edge of her anger dulled, replaced by something softer—guilt, maybe, or just exhaustion.

“You don’t have to find a hotel,” she said quietly. “I’ve got a guest room.” She paused, then added, “And… if you want to, I’m going to an art exhibition tonight. I’m going with my ex, but you’re welcome to come along.”

Roan raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re going with your ex? That’s… pretty modern of you.”

Lexa let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “We’re still friends,” she said simply.

Roan’s smirk softened into a genuine smile. “Very modern,” he said, his tone teasing but kind.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the tension between them cracked just enough to let something warmer through. It wasn’t much—just a moment—but it was enough for now.

Lexa stood in front of a mirror as her stylist busily flitted around her, selecting dresses and holding them up for consideration. He was determined to find the perfect outfit for tonight’s art exhibition. It wasn’t just any event—it was Lexa’s first official public appearance since her PR crisis, and everything had to be flawless. She felt the pressure of expectation weighing on her shoulders like a tangible force. For Lexa, though, this evening carried an additional weight. This was Clarke’s big night, and that meant she needed to look her absolute best, not just for the cameras but for Clarke. Even if Clarke barely noticed her.

There was a knock at the door, breaking Lexa’s focus. The stylist glanced over but didn’t pause his work. Lexa called out, “Come in,” and the door opened to reveal Anya.

“Am I interrupting?” Anya asked, stepping inside, her tone casual but her sharp gaze curious.

“Of course not,” Lexa replied, her tone warm, though she straightened her posture a little, instinctively preparing for something important.

Anya walked fully into the room, her sharp eyes sweeping over the array of gowns and accessories scattered around. “This is the first time I’ve met your brother without your mother hovering nearby,” she said, her expression one of mild surprise. “He’s… a lot more polite when she’s not around.”

Lexa let out a small, amused laugh. “Yeah, that surprised me too,” she admitted, though there was a faint undercurrent of tension in her voice.

“I just came to tell you I’ve booked a recording studio for tomorrow. I know you wanted to get started as soon as possible,” Anya said, her tone turning more professional.

Lexa’s face softened with appreciation. “Thank you. That’s perfect,” she said sincerely. She could feel a flicker of relief; at least one part of her life was moving forward, even if everything else still felt precarious.

Anya hesitated for a moment, her gaze briefly flicking to Lexa’s stylist, who was now holding up a deep emerald gown against her frame. Picking up on the subtle cue, the stylist offered a polite smile and said, “I’ll step out for a moment,” before slipping out of the room and closing the door behind him.

Anya took a step closer to Lexa, her voice lowering slightly. “There’s something else,” she said, her tone more serious now.

Lexa tilted her head, curiosity flashing in her eyes. “What is it?”

“I found her,” Anya said, her words deliberate.

Lexa blinked in surprise. “Tia?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, the name catching in her throat.

Anya nodded, her expression cautious. “Her name is Costia Sylva Mourningvale. She’s living here in Los Angeles. She’s openly gay and apparently a big fan of yours.” Anya paused before adding, “I’ve got her contact information, but… Alex, I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

She handed Lexa a small piece of paper, folded neatly. Lexa hesitated, staring at it as if it were some dangerous object. Slowly, she reached out and took it, her fingers brushing against the paper’s edge, her hand trembling just slightly.

“I just want to say I’m sorry,” Lexa murmured, more to herself than to Anya. She unfolded the paper and stared at the name and contact details written there.

The room felt quieter suddenly, as if even the air had stilled. Anya studied her carefully, her concern evident in the way her brow furrowed slightly. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

Lexa didn’t answer immediately. Her mind was spinning with thoughts and emotions she wasn’t ready to unpack. The weight of her past mistakes pressed against her chest like a heavy stone. Finally, she said softly, “I don’t know yet...”

Anya placed a hand on Lexa’s shoulder, grounding her. “Whatever you decide, I’m here,” she said firmly, her voice steady with the kind of unwavering support Lexa had always appreciated but rarely felt she deserved.

Lexa nodded, gripping the paper a little tighter. “Thanks, Anya,” she said, her voice steady but quiet.

As Anya stepped out of the room, Lexa turned her attention back to the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, draped in an elegant gown, poised and polished on the surface. But beneath the exterior, she was just Lexa—messy, uncertain, and trying to find her way.

Tonight, she would face Clarke. Later, perhaps, she would face Costia.

Lexa and Roan stood by the front door, the silence stretching between them. Lexa kept shifting from foot to foot, her hands fiddling with the hem of her sleeve, and she couldn't help but glance at the clock every few seconds. Her chest tightened with a knot she couldn’t shake, and though she tried to stand still, her shoulders tensed. Roan noticed right away.

"You seem nervous, sis," Roan said, his eyes scanning her face.

Lexa gave a small, quick shake of her head, a forced smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I'm not."

Roan raised an eyebrow, a hint of disbelief in his expression. He studied her for a moment, and then, with a slight shrug, said, "It's okay, you know. Not everyone needs to be best friends with their ex."

Lexa’s breath caught for a second, and she avoided his gaze, focusing on the door. "Bjorn and I are just friends," she said. "We're fine. I’m… maybe nervous for someone else. Clarke, the one holding the exhibition tonight, she’s a friend, and this could be her big break."

Roan didn’t look convinced. "Wait. I thought it was someone else hosting the exhibition. What’s her name now… oh, it’s on the tip of my tongue."

Before Lexa could answer, the doorbell rang, making her jump slightly. She walking briskly to open it. Bjorn stood at the doorstep, offering a warm smile. She let out a breath, the tightness in her chest easing just a little as she stepped aside to let him in.

But Roan was still thinking. He leaned against the wall, looking as if he were about to pull the name out of the air.

"Oh, I think her name starts with M or maybe N. Bjorn, you probably know her—what’s the name of that famous, aggressive lesbian artist?"

Bjorn froze for a moment, his jaw tightening. "You mean Niylah?"

"Yes! That’s her!" Roan said, as if he'd solved a mystery. "I thought she was the one hosting the exhibition."

Bjorn's gaze turned sharp, and his tone dropped with an edge. "How is Niylah aggressive? She’s just living her life."

"Oh, don’t be so woke," Roan waved a hand dismissively, his words full of irritation. "It always just about being queer with people like her. Back me up, Alexandra," he added, his eyes locking on Lexa.

She stiffened at her name. Lexa blinked, the words hanging in the air too long. Her mind was racing, but she couldn’t find the right thing to say. She barely noticed when Bjorn spoke up, his voice breaking the tension.

"Niylah is a good friend of mine," Bjorn said firmly, looking directly at Roan. "And Clarke is a good friend of Alex. They’re not aggressive at all."

Lexa’s heart skipped, her stomach sinking as Bjorn added, "They’re just dating. Living their lives."

The air felt suddenly heavier, suffocating. Lexa’s gaze flicked toward Bjorn. She had never told Bjorn about Clarke, never mentioned the past. He didn’t know.

Roan slowly shook his head. "Okay. I get it. I said something wrong."

Bjorn nodded and turned to walk out the door.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Roan leaned in closer. "He’s very politically correct. Is that why you broke up with him?"

Lexa let out a shaky breath. She shook her head quickly, her voice barely a whisper. "He broke up with me, and he’s just very Scandinavian."

Roan let out a soft laugh. "That explains it," he said, and the two of them followed Bjorn out to the car.

Clarke walked around the exhibition, double-checking everything before the guests arrived. Her nerves were a tight coil in her chest, her hands brushing over the edges of the framed art like a soothing, repetitive gesture. The soft hum of the music and the dim lights felt distant, almost surreal. She was excited, yes, but there was a heaviness to her heart too. It was impossible to ignore.

The thought of seeing Lexa again made Clarke's breath catch, and she forced herself to focus. It was a delicate balance—anxiety mixed with anticipation, the kind of feeling that came from trying to do something meaningful, something right. With all that Lexa had been through lately, Clarke had made a decision, a quiet but firm one: she wanted to be there for her. She wanted to support her, to be the friend Lexa needed.

Even after everything they had been through, Clarke knew she couldn't just walk away. Not this time. She couldn’t keep avoiding Lexa, pretending like nothing had happened. She hadn’t been able to forget, and she didn’t want to. Maybe it wasn’t about rekindling the past—maybe it was just about being there.

She paused, eyes scanning the room again, her mind racing with thoughts of what could come of tonight.

Clarke shook her head, trying to push the doubt away. Tonight wasn’t about the past. It was about the art, the future, and offering something real. She only hoped Lexa would be willing to accept her as a friend.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the exhibition entrance. The familiar, overwhelming sight of the paparazzi and fans filled the air, their eyes sharp with anticipation as they clamored to capture a glimpse of the well-known figures arriving. The cameras flashed relentlessly, and the voices of reporters and eager fans echoed in the night. Lexa felt the pressure of it all before even stepping out of the car. Every click, every shout seemed to get under her skin, and she couldn’t shake the sensation of being watched.

With a steadying breath, Lexa stepped out of the car alongside Bjorn and Roan, all three of them looking polished in their evening attire. Despite her composed exterior, the nervous flutter in her chest couldn’t be ignored. She felt out of place, like a weight had been settled on her shoulders, and she couldn’t quite shake it off.

Bjorn, ever the steady presence, reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. The warmth of his touch was grounding, even if only for a moment. It was the small comfort she needed, but it didn’t erase the unease coursing through her veins. She clung to his hand for just a little longer, her breath shaky as she tried to find some semblance of calm in the chaos around them.

The entrance to the venue loomed ahead, and as they stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted. The moment they crossed the threshold, it was as if the air changed—heavier, thicker with anticipation. Lexa could feel the weight of every single person in the room, the collective gaze of everyone trained on the art that filled the space. It was more than just an exhibition; it was an experience, an event that demanded attention.

But as she looked around, the reality of the show hit her in waves. The sorrow, the grief, the raw emotion—it was everywhere. It wasn’t just art. It was pain. And it was her pain. Every brushstroke, every color choice felt personal. It wasn’t hard to see the theme. It was as if the entire gallery had been transformed into a mirror reflecting her past—the heartache, the regret, the fractured pieces of everything she had once held dear.

Lexa's eyes scanned the crowd, her body stiffening as she spotted Clarke and Niylah standing close together. The sight of them felt like a punch to the gut. Niylah’s hand was resting comfortably on Clarke’s back, a simple gesture that felt so intimate, so at ease. They were speaking with Luna Wagner, but Lexa couldn’t tear her eyes away from them. For a second, everything else in the room faded, and all she could focus on was Clarke, standing there, so alive and radiant, as if nothing in the world could touch her.

A sharp pang of longing hit her chest. Lexa quickly looked away, forcing her gaze to shift toward the artwork, though her mind was still spinning. The pieces, each one dripping with melancholy, seemed to echo the pain she had been carrying for months. She moved from one painting to the next, though nothing seemed to give her relief.

One piece in particular caught her eye. It depicted a figure standing alone, bathed in the glow of a fading sunset. The figure’s silhouette was dark, almost swallowed by the somber palette of blues and purples that surrounded them. A storm cloud loomed above, a symbol of isolation and despair. Lexa recognized the feeling. She was that figure, standing in the storm, alone and consumed by the turmoil she couldn’t escape.

Her heart clenched as she lingered by that painting. She hadn’t just hurt Clarke. She had hurt herself, too. The realization hit her harder than she expected. The weight of the guilt was crushing, suffocating. Her hands clenched at her sides, the sharp feeling of failure pressing into her ribs.

The guilt wasn’t just for the mistakes she’d made—it was for the things she had never said. Every single piece in the gallery felt like a silent reminder of the wreckage she had left behind, of the love she had destroyed. And the more she looked, the more she felt like she was drowning in it all. She couldn’t escape it.

She pulled herself away from the painting, trying to breathe through the wave of emotions crashing over her. But it wasn’t enough. The sorrow was everywhere, inescapable. The night was supposed to be about celebrating Clarke, but it felt like a reckoning for Lexa—a painful reminder of everything she had failed to fix.

Lexa stood alone in a quiet corner of the exhibition, her arms crossed lightly over her chest as she tried to regain some semblance of calm. She could feel the buzz of conversations around her, the soft hum of chatter filling the space, but all she wanted was a moment to breathe, to clear her mind. Bjorn and Roan were somewhere in the crowd, but she couldn’t spot them through the throngs of people.

What she could spot, however, was Clarke.

Clarke's eyes found Lexa’s across the room, and Lexa's heart gave a tight squeeze as she watched Clarke’s face break into a warm, familiar smile. The distance between them, the weeks of silence, the guilt—it was all there in that single moment of eye contact. But Clarke was walking toward her with that same easy confidence, the same openness that had always pulled Lexa in. Lexa didn't know how to react.

"I'm so glad you could make it," Clarke said when she reached Lexa, her voice a soothing warmth that Lexa wasn’t sure she deserved. She pulled Lexa into a hug, and for a brief moment, Lexa let herself lean into the embrace, though it felt distant, too distant.

"Of course," Lexa replied, her voice quiet, hesitant. She let the hug linger but didn't fully participate, her hands stiff at her sides.

Clarke pulled back slightly to look at her, concern lining her face. "How are you? How have you been?" she asked, her eyes searching Lexa’s, trying to read her. The question felt almost too much, too vulnerable.

Lexa hesitated, her mind racing. She felt exposed, like everything she was hiding, everything she wanted to bury, was visible in her eyes. She didn't know how to explain the turmoil inside her, the hurt she didn’t want to let herself feel.

“I’m... I’m fine,” Lexa lied, her voice wavering ever so slightly. She wasn’t fine. Not at all. But she couldn’t say that. Not here, not now.

Clarke seemed to accept it, though Lexa could see the flicker of doubt in her gaze. "I’ve really missed you," Clarke continued, her voice soft but earnest. "It's crazy, isn’t it? That we’ve been in the same city for so long and haven't talked, haven’t seen each other."

Lexa nodded, her throat tight. She wanted to say something—anything—to bridge the gap, to let Clarke know how much she regretted the distance, but the words felt trapped, lodged in her chest.

"I’m just really glad we’re still friends," Clarke said then, her hand finding its way to Lexa's arm. The warmth of her touch sent a shiver down Lexa’s spine, a reminder of everything they had once been. "It means so much to me."

Before Lexa could respond, Niylah caught Clarke's attention from across the room. Clarke smiled at her and nodded, excusing herself with a quick apology. "Sorry, duty calls," Clarke said, her gaze lingering on Lexa for just a moment longer. "We’ll catch up later." And with that, she walked away, heading toward Niylah.

Lexa stood frozen in place for what felt like an eternity, her heart thudding painfully in her chest as she watched Clarke and Niylah share a brief, intimate moment. Clarke leaned in and kissed Niylah quickly, and Lexa turned away sharply, her breath catching in her throat. She couldn’t watch them, not now. Not when the weight of everything between them was still so raw.

She looked around the room, desperate for something to focus on. She spotted Bjorn and Roan across the room, deep in conversation with a couple of other men. Lexa walked toward them with purpose, her footsteps quick and determined.

When she reached them, she hesitated for just a moment before gently taking Bjorn’s hand. She leaned in slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I want to go home,” she murmured, the words spilling out with a quiet urgency.

Bjorn nodded immediately, without hesitation, though Roan raised an eyebrow at her sudden request. He didn’t say anything, though, just followed as they all made their way toward the exit.

As they left the event, the weight of the evening settled over Lexa like a heavy fog. She wasn’t sure what she had expected when she came, but it certainly wasn’t this. Not the lingering ache in her chest, not the way Clarke had seemed so... relaxed in the moments they shared, even if it was just a brief exchange. The evening had been a stark reminder of everything she had lost—and everything she would never get back.

Lexa stood in front of the mirror, carefully wiping away the remnants of her makeup. The soft motion of the cotton pad against her skin was almost soothing, but it did nothing to alleviate the tension in her chest. The night had been draining, and as she looked at herself, she felt the weight of everything that had happened pressing on her shoulders.

They hadn’t stayed long at the exhibition, but it had been long enough. Clarke had moved on. Clarke had found someone else, someone who could be public with her. And Lexa had lost her.

She stared at her reflection, her face looking as tired and worn out as she felt. Her eyes were dull, and there was a hollowness to her expression that made her look older than she was. She felt the opposite of attractive in that moment, and she knew it wasn’t just the exhaustion showing through. It was everything—the guilt, the regret, the sense of being left behind.

She sighed, rubbing at her eyes as though trying to erase the tiredness, but the ache in her chest remained. She knew that if she didn’t find a way to move forward, this would only keep dragging her down. She couldn’t afford to stay stuck in this place, not when her career was on the line.

Reaching for the small piece of paper with Costia’s contact details, Lexa hesitated for only a moment before she typed out the message. It was almost as if she had no control over her fingers, her mind already making decisions she wasn’t sure she was ready for.

"Hey, I just wanted to say sorry for that night. I’d really like to apologize in person if that’s possible for you. Best regards, Alexandra Woods." She hit send before she could overthink it too much.

She needed to move forward. She had to do something, anything, to pull herself out of this slump. Without thinking, she typed another message, this time to Anya.

"Can you prepare a simple NDA for me? I’d like to meet with Costia."

She exhaled slowly as she hit send. It wasn’t much, but it was a step. And somehow, that small action felt like the first sign of something—maybe hope, maybe just a little bit of control. But for the first time in a while, it felt like she was doing something for herself.

Clarke smiled and chatted with important guests, her laughter polite, her words carefully measured. The night had been a whirlwind of conversation and congratulations, and while she was grateful for the attention her art was receiving, she felt the weight of exhaustion creeping in. The constant exchanges and the unrelenting energy it took to remain present were beginning to wear her down. She took a breath during a rare lull, letting the chatter of the crowd wash over her as she scanned the room, searching instinctively for a familiar figure.

Her eyes swept across the sea of faces, catching glimpses of admirers studying her work, glasses of champagne glinting in their hands. But Lexa was nowhere to be found. The absence settled like a faint ache in Clarke's chest. She glanced again, slower this time, her gaze lingering at the edges of the crowd where people naturally thinned out. Still no Lexa.

Her disappointment was sharp but brief, quickly replaced by a determination to find out where she’d gone. Clarke’s attention shifted, landing on two familiar figures near the far wall—Anya and Raven. They stood together, half-leaning against the wall, their expressions a mix of detachment and quiet amusement as they observed the room. Without hesitation, Clarke wove her way through the crowd toward them, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor.

“Have either of you seen Lexa?” Clarke asked as she approached, her voice casual but tinged with concern. Her eyes darted around the room one last time, still hoping she’d missed her somehow.

Anya turned toward Clarke, raising an eyebrow slightly. “It’s been a while since she left,” Anya said, her tone even, though there was a flicker of something unspoken in her gaze.

“Really?” Clarke said, her face falling as her stomach sank. She hesitated, the words catching in her throat before spilling out. “I barely even got to talk to her.” Her disappointment was plain now, no matter how much she tried to keep her voice light.

Anya didn’t reply immediately. There was an unspoken thought behind the silence, one she wasn’t sure Clarke would want to hear. Maybe it was for the best that they didn’t talk.

Raven offered a small shrug and a faint smirk. “We’ll see her another day,” she said, her tone nonchalant as if that simple statement could make it better.

Clarke nodded slowly, though the response didn’t quite satisfy the weight sitting in her chest. Her eyes lingered on the crowd for another moment, as if Lexa might suddenly reappear from some hidden corner of the room.

“Yeah… maybe,” Clarke murmured, though her voice lacked conviction.

Her gaze fell to the floor for a fleeting second before she lifted it again, forcing a faint smile. But the hollowness of Lexa’s absence remained, an unspoken ache she couldn’t entirely shake.

The studio was perched right by the ocean, its sleek modern design a striking contrast to the rugged cliffs that dropped dramatically into the waves below. From the moment Lexa and Anya stepped out of the car, the salty sea air hit them, mingling with the faint scent of eucalyptus from the nearby bushes. The sound of waves crashing against the jagged rocks created a rhythmic, almost meditative backdrop to the day’s impending challenges.

Inside, however, the mood shifted. The cool, industrial interior of the studio greeted them, with polished concrete floors and floor-to-ceiling windows offering an uninterrupted view of the sea. It was a beautiful yet stark environment, designed for focus, not comfort. The faint sound of voices filtered in from a nearby room, and as they walked through the hallway, Lexa spotted a small lounge area with a television glowing softly.

On the screen, a panel of commentators was deep in discussion. The voices grew louder as Lexa and Anya approached, the words cutting through the air like shards of glass.

“It’s like that art exhibit last night. Thought-provoking, sure, but ultimately not entertaining enough,” said one man, adjusting his tie with a smirk.

Another man chimed in, his tone dripping with condescension. “No surprise, though. The hosts were two dykes. It’s like they’re everywhere these days.”

Lexa’s jaw tightened involuntarily, and she glanced at Anya, whose expression remained unreadable, though the way her lips pressed into a thin line betrayed her irritation.

The conversation took a turn when a woman on the panel leaned forward, clearly savoring the gossip she was about to share. “But the real surprise? Alexandra Woods and Bjorn Lothbrok arriving hand in hand. Looks like their breakup isn’t as final as they’d like us to believe.”

The screen shifted to a photo of Lexa and Bjorn from the night before. They were captured just outside the art exhibit, Bjorn’s hand gently holding Lexa’s, while Lexa’s tense posture was unmistakable. The flashes of the cameras had done nothing to soften her expression, which now looked even more guarded on screen.

Lexa tore her gaze away from the television, her stomach twisting. She hated how the world dissected her every move, twisting narratives to suit their appetite for drama.

Without a word, Anya picked up the remote and switched off the television. The room fell into silence, save for the distant, soothing crash of the waves outside. Anya turned to Lexa, her tone calm but firm. “We don’t need to focus on that today. The producer is waiting. Let’s go.”

Lexa nodded, though the weight of the commentary still lingered like a fog in her mind. As they moved through the hallway, she stole one last glance out the window. The ocean stretched endlessly, its vastness a stark reminder of how small this moment truly was in the grand scheme of things. Steeling herself, she followed Anya toward the studio’s main room, determined to redirect her focus to the work ahead.

Lexa sat in the studio, the soft hum of recording equipment filling the air. Beyond the large windows, the ocean stretched out endlessly, the waves crashing against rugged cliffs just below. But it did little to soothe the tension Lexa felt as she adjusted the guitar on her lap. She cast a quick glance at Anya, who sat across from her with a calm expression, arms loosely crossed, her eyes watchful yet supportive. Beside her, the producer leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his sharp eyes focused intently on Lexa.

Lexa took a shaky breath, her fingers brushing over the strings absently as if testing their familiarity. She hesitated before speaking, her voice quiet but steady enough. “I’d like to start with a song I wrote last night... if that’s okay?”

The producer nodded immediately, his encouraging tone cutting through Lexa’s nerves. “Of course. Let’s hear what you’ve got. We’ll work from there.”

Anya gave Lexa a small smile, her nod silent but full of reassurance. Lexa appreciated it more than she could say. Swallowing her nerves, Lexa shifted slightly in her chair and strummed a soft chord, the sound resonating in the studio. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, centering herself, then began to sing.

Her voice, soft and trembling at first, filled the room with a haunting vulnerability:

"Hey, I knew I’d run into you somewhere
It’s been a while, I didn’t mean to stare.
I heard she’s nothing like me
I’m sure she’ll make you happy."

Her fingers moved deftly along the guitar strings, but her chest felt tight with the weight of the lyrics. Every word felt like a confession, a piece of herself laid bare. As she reached the chorus, she took a deep, steadying breath, her voice cracking slightly with emotion as she continued.

"But don’t you
Don’t you smile at me and ask me how I’ve been
Don’t you say you’ve missed me if you don’t want me again
You don’t know how much I feel I love you still
So why don’t you, don’t you?"

She glanced up briefly, her heart pounding in her chest. Anya’s expression was uncharacteristically soft, her lips pressed together, and her eyes glistened faintly. The producer was nodding along, his head tilted slightly, his brow furrowed in a way that suggested he was deeply immersed in her performance.

Seeing their reactions gave Lexa a surge of courage, though the ache in her chest didn’t dissipate. She poured herself into the next verse, her voice gaining strength as her emotions spilled out.

"Sometimes I really wish that I could hate you
I’ve tried, but that’s just something I can’t do

So I walk outta here tonight
Try to go on with my life
And you can say we’re still friends
But I don’t wanna pretend."

The final chord lingered in the air, resonating like an unspoken question. Lexa’s hands stilled on the guitar, her pulse loud in her ears. She felt exposed, as though the song had torn down every wall she had built around herself.

The producer leaned back in his chair, breaking the heavy silence with a thoughtful nod. “That… that was incredible,” he said, his voice low but full of conviction. “The emotion in your voice—it’s real. People are going to feel that.”

Anya leaned forward, her usual composure giving way to a rare softness. “Alex,” she said, her voice quiet, almost reverent. “That was beautiful. Honest.”

Lexa exhaled, her shoulders dropping as the tension seeped out of her body. Her lips curved into a faint, almost reluctant smile. “You think so?” she asked, her voice just above a whisper.

“Yes,” Anya said firmly.

Outside, the waves continued their relentless crash against the rocks, a stark contrast to the stillness inside the studio.

The day was nearing its end, and the sun, now a deep orange, hung low on the horizon, casting soft golden hues over the jagged cliffs. Lexa sat on the edge of one such cliff, her legs dangling loosely as the sea roared beneath her. The wind tugged at her hair, the salty air biting her skin, but it felt good—refreshing, almost. It had been a long, exhausting day of work, and there was another waiting for her tomorrow. Yet, despite the heaviness in her chest, she couldn’t help but feel some sense of accomplishment from finally throwing herself into her music with focus and determination, but her thoughts were a jumbled mess.

The soft crunch of footsteps on gravel broke through the silence.

“So this is where you’re hiding,” Anya said, her steps light and relaxed as she walked toward Lexa, her jacket caught in the breeze.

Lexa didn’t turn her head right away but offered a tired smile. “I just needed a break.” Her voice was softer than usual, quiet like she was still absorbing the weight of the day.

Anya looked at her for a moment, before sitting down beside her, their shoulders brushing lightly. “It’s been a long day,” she murmured, her voice knowing, warm. “But you did really well, Alex.”

Lexa nodded, though she didn’t speak at first. The ocean before her, relentless and vast, mirrored the overwhelming feelings inside her. She let the silence settle between them, allowing the cool air to fill the space as she gathered her thoughts.

But then it happened. A tear slipped down her cheek, uninvited, and Lexa let it fall, not bothering to wipe it away. Her heart felt heavy, and even though she was surrounded by people who cared for her, there was a deep loneliness she couldn’t shake.

Anya saw the tear but didn’t comment on it. She simply slid a little closer, her gaze softening. “Alex,” she asked gently, “are you okay?”

Lexa shook her head. Her words were halting, and they caught in her throat. “I know I’m not alone,” she said quietly. “I know I’m surrounded by people like me. You... you’re in a relationship with a woman. Clarke, Niylah. Even my stylist’s gay. But I still feel so alone.”

Anya didn’t rush to speak, simply allowing Lexa to express the storm inside her.

“I feel like I’m being constantly measured, judged. I’m just so tired, Anya. So damn tired of feeling... disgusting.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and raw, and Anya could feel the weight of them. She turned to look at Lexa, her expression a mixture of concern and quiet surprise. But Lexa shook her head, signaling that she didn’t want to hear any reassurances just yet.

“I can’t shake the thought that if anyone knew the real me, what I really am... they wouldn’t love me. They wouldn’t watch my movies or buy my music. They wouldn’t work with me. They’d see how ugly I really am. I’m disgusted with myself.”

“Stop,” Anya said firmly, her voice cutting through the darkness in Lexa’s words. “You’re not disgusting. Not in any way.”

But Lexa’s sobs came harder then, her chest rising and falling as the weight of everything she’d been holding in came pouring out. “I’m losing control… I feel like I’m falling apart,” she whispered through her tears, her voice so small.

Anya placed a hand on Lexa’s shoulder, a comforting, steady pressure. “What do you need?” she asked softly, her voice warm, offering no judgment.

Lexa hesitated, her hands shaking slightly as she wiped away the tears. “I think I need to come out. Not tomorrow, but soon.” Her voice was almost a whisper, as if the very thought of it was too much.

Anya nodded slowly, her eyes full of understanding. “Okay.”

Lexa took a long, deep breath, and for the first time in hours, she felt a faint flicker of relief. Maybe it wouldn’t be so impossible. She stood up slowly, and Anya followed her as they began walking back toward the studio. The cool evening air brushed against them, as if the universe itself was giving her the space she needed to breathe.

As they neared the door, Lexa’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, seeing a message from Costia.

"I’d love to meet with you."

Chapter Text

Lexa paced through her home, her bare feet brushing against the hardwood floor. The house, located in one of the city's most exclusive celebrity neighborhoods, was surrounded by tall hedges and sprawling lawns, ensuring privacy from prying eyes. The late afternoon sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the modern, minimalist interior. Yet the tranquil surroundings did little to calm her restless mind as she mulled over what to write to Costia.

She’d received the message yesterday—a polite response—but every attempt at replying felt inadequate. Her phone rested in her hand, her thumb hovering nervously over the keyboard, still unsure of what to say.

Roan wandered into the room, his casual demeanor a stark contrast to Lexa’s tense pacing. He leaned against the doorway, his arms loosely crossed as he watched her. “Hey, Alexandra. Are you okay?” he asked, his tone soft but probing.

Lexa halted abruptly, caught off guard by his presence. She turned toward him, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she forced a faint smile. “Yeah, I’m just... I’m okay,” she replied, though her voice betrayed her unease.

Roan raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, and tilted his head slightly. “You’ve been walking circles for twenty minutes,” he noted.

Lexa sighed and stilled herself, turning to face the large windows. Beyond the glass, the landscaped backyard stretched out toward a shimmering infinity pool, with the silhouettes of palm trees swaying gently in the breeze. Despite the view, her mind was miles away.

Roan took a step closer. “You know,” he began, his voice steady but laced with warmth, “you can talk to me. I’ll keep it between us. I won’t tell Mom. I can keep secrets, you know.”

Lexa glanced over her shoulder at him, her expression unreadable. “Can you? From Mom?” she asked skeptically, her tone sharper than she intended.

Roan’s brow furrowed slightly, but he shook his head, brushing off the sting of her words. “Yes, I can,” he said firmly, his voice unwavering.

Lexa studied him for a moment, her posture softening. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she murmured, turning her gaze back to the window.

Roan lingered, watching her for a few beats before speaking again. “You’ve got secrets from me and Mom, don’t you?”

Lexa didn’t look at him this time. Her voice was quiet but firm as she replied, “Yes, I do.”

She stared down at her phone, the light from the screen reflecting in her eyes. Her fingers hesitated for just a moment before she typed:

"Can we meet later today? May I pick you up tonight?"

Her thumb hovered above the send button, her chest tightening with uncertainty. Then, with a sharp inhale, she pressed send before she could second-guess herself.

Roan took another step forward, his tone softening. “Do you think you’ll ever share those secrets with me?”

Lexa finally turned to look at him, her expression thoughtful. She seemed to weigh the question carefully before answering. “Yes,” she said, her voice steady. “I think I will. One day.”

Roan nodded, his face softening with understanding. “Okay,” he said simply. “Take your time.”

Lexa gave him a small, almost imperceptible smile before turning back to the window. The weight in her chest hadn’t disappeared, but it felt just a little lighter. The soft ping of her phone interrupted her thoughts, and when she glanced down, her breath caught. Costia had replied:

"I’d love to."

Lexa exhaled slowly, her pulse quickening as a mix of anticipation and nerves settled in her chest. One step at a time.

Clarke sat slouched at the small kitchen table in Niylah's cozy apartment, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee. The morning light filtered in through the blinds, painting soft stripes across the room. It was still early, and yet the weight of another busy day pressed on her shoulders. The past week had been a whirlwind.

Since the exhibit, everything had changed. Clarke’s career had taken a sharp turn; suddenly, she was someone the art world recognized. Just yesterday, she’d received an order for a commissioned piece from a prominent collector, and a few days before, she’d been stopped on the street by someone who gushed about her work. It was surreal. Unbelievable, really. For years, she had fought to make her mark, and now, in what felt like the blink of an eye, she was standing on the cusp of something greater.

Even her mother had started calling her. Her mother, who’d so often questioned Clarke’s choices, now spoke with pride in her voice. Clarke should have felt overjoyed—validated, even—but instead, her chest felt hollow.

Niylah was proud of her too, of course. She’d been supportive from the very beginning, and her presence was constant and comforting. But there was a gaping void in Clarke’s heart, a space she hadn’t realized had been carved out until now. She missed Lexa.

The thought crept in slowly at first, then came rushing like a tide. Clarke stared blankly at her coffee, her fingers tightening slightly around the mug. She felt like a fool for not understanding it sooner—how much she’d wanted to share this with Lexa. Clarke had told herself, over and over, that she just wanted to be Lexa’s friend again.

But now, the truth was harder to deny. It wasn’t just friendship she missed. It was Lexa’s laugh, her sharp wit, her gentle touch. It was the memory of Lexa’s lips against hers, of hands that once knew her in a way no one else ever had. The ache was sharper than she cared to admit, and when her thoughts wandered to places she didn’t dare go, Clarke squeezed her eyes shut and bit down on the wave of longing.

She couldn’t think like that—not now. Not when Niylah was here.

As if summoned by the thought, Niylah entered the kitchen, her footsteps soft against the tiled floor. She wore a warm smile, her hair slightly tousled from sleep, and leaned down to press a kiss to Clarke’s cheek. “Good morning, babe,” she said, her voice light and affectionate.

Clarke forced a small smile, hoping it didn’t falter. “Good morning,” she replied, her voice steady but lacking its usual warmth.

Niylah moved to pour herself a cup of coffee, oblivious to the storm brewing behind Clarke’s tired eyes. Clarke watched her for a moment, her heart heavy with guilt. She wanted to be present, to focus on the here and now, but the hollow ache refused to fade.

She glanced back down at her coffee, her reflection faintly visible in the dark liquid. The week had brought her success, recognition, and validation. But none of it felt complete. None of it mattered as much as she thought it would—because the one person she wanted to share it with wasn’t there. And maybe never would be.

The limousine glided smoothly through the upscale streets of Los Angeles, its tinted windows shielding Lexa from the world outside. Inside, Lexa sat on the plush leather seat, dressed in an outfit that, for her, was surprisingly understated—tailored black dress pants, a sleek blouse, and sunglasses. Her fingers grazed the rim of a champagne glass, which she had poured herself moments after the ride began. She hadn’t told Anya about this meeting or why she had insisted on handling this thing entirely on her own.

Her reasoning, she thought, was sound. Anya didn’t need to know every detail, not about this. Lexa was determined to keep the matter private, as controlled and contained as possible. That’s why she’d booked the limousine herself, ensuring it had every amenity she might need: tinted windows for discretion, a luxurious leather sofa for comfort, and a sleek wooden table where she had carefully placed the NDA and a high-end pen.

Lexa stared at the golden liquid in her glass, swirling it absentmindedly. She wasn’t supposed to drink, especially before something like this, but her nerves had gotten the better of her. She took a small sip, the champagne’s crispness offering a momentary distraction. Her heart, however, remained a steady drumbeat of anxiety.

The phone in her lap buzzed softly, snapping her out of her thoughts. It wasn’t Costia—just a notification she ignored immediately. She glanced out the window as the limousine began to slow, pulling up in front of Costia’s address. Lexa’s stomach tightened.

She straightened her posture, took another small sip of champagne, and set the glass down with a soft clink. Her hand moved to smooth the fabric of her pants, a nervous habit she hadn’t quite been able to shake. Reaching for her phone, she typed out a simple message and sent it: I’m here.

Moments later, the door to the building opened, and Costia stepped outside. Lexa caught her breath. Costia looked effortlessly elegant, her jacket draped over one arm, her hair falling perfectly in place. Her movements were hesitant as she scanned the area.

The limousine door opened, and Costia stepped inside. The warm, soft lighting of the interior illuminated her features as she settled into the seat across from Lexa. For a moment, the air felt heavy with unspoken words, the silence between them more telling than anything either of them might have said.

“Hey, Costia,” Lexa finally said, her voice softer than intended. “Thanks for agreeing to meet me.”

Costia glanced around the car, her gaze lingering briefly on the documents and pen resting on the table before shifting back to Lexa. She gave a small smile.
“Of course. I… am a bit nervous.”

Lexa nodded, her hands gripping the edge of the leather seat lightly. She couldn’t tell if the champagne had helped or if it had only added to the warmth creeping up her neck.

The limousine rolled quietly through the streets, its smooth ride only accentuating the tension inside. Lexa, perched carefully on the edge of her seat, took another sip of champagne to steady herself. Her sunglasses were off now, resting on the table next to the NDA, leaving her striking green eyes exposed and vulnerable. She glanced at Costia, who sat across from her with a curious but calm demeanor.

“I wasn’t sure you’d let me explain myself,” Lexa mumbled, her voice soft as she stared down at her glass.

Costia tilted her head slightly, a small, almost shy smile forming on her lips. “This feels a little like a dream come true, honestly,” she admitted. “I have to say again... I’m a fan.”

Lexa looked up at her, and gave a small, nervous nod. She took another sip of her champagne, using the glass as a shield. She had faced cameras, red carpets, and screaming fans, but this—this felt so much harder.

The limousine moved, gliding aimlessly through the city, offering them the privacy they needed. The soft hum of the engine filled the quiet space as Lexa finally set her glass down and met Costia’s eyes.

“I want to share my version of that night with you,” Lexa began, her voice steady but low, “but before I do, I need you to sign an NDA.” She gestured to the neatly folded document on the table, along with the pen beside it. “It’s there for you. Please take your time and read it carefully before you sign.”

Costia’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a more serious expression. She nodded and leaned forward to pick up the document. Unfolding it, she began to read, her eyes scanning each line carefully. Now and then, she nodded to herself as if mentally noting the terms.

After a few moments, Costia glanced up. “So, I’m not allowed to post anything online about this? Not even anonymously?”

Lexa’s lips twitched in a small, wry smile. “Not much on the internet is truly anonymous,” she said, her tone quieter now. “I found you through your Reddit account.”

Costia’s eyes widened as her cheeks flushed a deep red. “Oh... on the AlexGaydra subreddit?”

Lexa nodded slowly, her expression neutral but her gaze unwavering.

“Oh… oh, okay,” Costia mumbled, clearly flustered. She glanced back down at the document, her fingers fidgeting slightly with the edges of the paper. After a brief hesitation, she picked up the pen and signed her name at the bottom with a flourish.

Setting the pen back on the table, Costia met Lexa’s gaze again, her tone light but teasing as she said, “Well, I guess I should be flattered you did your research.”

Lexa let out a small exhale, a flicker of relief passing over her face. “Thank you for signing,” she said softly, her shoulders relaxing just slightly.

For the first time since the meeting began, Lexa felt the faintest hint of control returning to her.

The limousine hummed softly as it glided through the darkened streets, the city lights casting fleeting patterns across the leather interior. Lexa straightened her posture, her earlier nervousness beginning to wane as she gathered her thoughts. Her green eyes met Costia’s, and with a quiet but confident tone, she said, “Do you have any questions for me? Anything you want to ask?”

Costia hesitated, her fingers brushing over the fabric of her clothes as she appeared to consider her options. After a brief moment, she spoke. “When we kissed… were you and Bjorn actually broken up?”

Lexa’s expression didn’t change immediately; instead, she nodded slowly, as if the question deserved careful consideration. Then, with a steady voice, she answered, “No.”

Costia blinked in surprise, her brows knitting together in what looked like a mixture of shock and confusion. Before she could speak, Lexa continued. “But I didn’t break his heart. I only broke a contract. It was a PR relationship, and while it wasn’t supposed to end the way it did, no… we weren’t over when it happened. I was drunk that night and… I couldn’t stop myself.”

The weight of Lexa’s words seemed to settle heavily on Costia, whose face betrayed her struggle to process the revelation. She finally asked, “Is the AlexGaydra theory true?”

Lexa tilted her head, an inquisitive expression crossing her face. “I’m not sure I know that theory,” she admitted.

Costia let out a nervous laugh, clearly embarrassed, and tried to explain. “It’s an old fan theory… It claims that most of your relationships were PR stunts because, well, you’re actually a lesbian. I mean, I’ve never believed it, of course, but… that’s the gist of it. It’s probably ridiculous.”

A faint smile played on Lexa’s lips as she shook her head slowly. “It’s not ridiculous. In fact, it’s true. Your theory is correct—I am a lesbian, and most of my public relationships have been for PR.”

Costia’s mouth fell open in shock, her wide eyes fixed on Lexa as if she couldn’t quite believe what she’d just heard.

Lexa leaned slightly closer, her tone firm but gentle. “This is, of course, the kind of information you absolutely cannot share with anyone.”

Costia nodded, her expression now thoughtful as she processed the confession. After a beat, she asked quietly, “Why are you telling me all of this?”

Lexa hesitated, the words catching in her throat. She looked away for a moment, unsure of how to phrase what she felt without overstepping. “Because I… Because you… um…” She faltered, her voice dropping off as she searched for the right words.

But Costia seemed to understand. A small, knowing smile curled her lips as she placed her hand gently over Lexa’s, her touch warm and reassuring. “Maybe,” she said softly, “we should end the drive and… find a hotel?”

Lexa’s breath caught for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. She nodded, a little stunned but undeniably happy. “Yeah,” she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lexa woke up the next morning in the hotel bed, her body tangled in soft sheets as she shifted. The warmth of Costia’s body pressed against her sent a wave through her, but she quickly glanced at the clock—and panic set in. She had less than thirty minutes to get to the studio. Reality crashed down on her, and she felt a rush of urgency.

Reluctantly, Lexa tried to wake Costia without disturbing her too much. She nudged her gently, but Costia remained sound asleep, her breathing slow and steady. Lexa tried again, this time a little firmer. Costia stirred, her eyes slowly opening, blinking as she tried to register what was happening.

“I have to be at work in half an hour,” Lexa said softly but with an edge of urgency. She didn’t want to be late.

Costia’s brows furrowed in confusion, her drowsiness still holding onto her. “Work?” she asked, her voice almost childlike, thick with sleep.

Lexa nodded, a small sigh escaping her lips. “Yeah, I can’t be late. I really don’t want to be,” she said, running a hand through her messy hair as she rose from the bed and moved toward her clothes.

Costia watched her, her gaze still sleepy but following Lexa’s every movement with curiosity. Lexa quickly dressed, feeling a rush of adrenaline as the minutes ticked by. It dawned on her that she couldn’t even afford a quick shower or a trip home for fresh clothes. She had to make do with what she had.

As she moved quickly, Costia began dressing too, but her movements were slow, almost as if she didn’t want to leave or acknowledge that this brief moment together could be slipping away. She seemed uncertain, almost as if she feared Lexa wouldn’t want to see her again.

“I can get a car for you if you need it,” Lexa offered, not wanting Costia to feel awkward or stranded.

Costia nodded slowly, but her voice was quiet and unsure. “Was that it?” she asked, her words hesitating, as though she didn’t want to sound too needy or vulnerable. “Not that it wasn’t amazing, but…” Her voice trailed off, and she averted her gaze, the uncertainty in her words hanging in the air between them.

Lexa stopped in her tracks, the air between them suddenly thick with an emotion she couldn’t ignore. She hadn’t meant to make Costia feel like this. She had to address the tension.

“No, no, that’s not it,” Lexa said quickly, her voice soft but sincere. “I’ve got an important meeting soon, but I’d really like to see you again. Maybe tomorrow?” Her words felt like a promise.

Costia’s expression brightened immediately, her eyes softening and her lips curling into a small, genuine smile. She she nodded eagerly. “That sounds wonderful. I’d like that too.” Her voice had regained its warmth, and Lexa could see the relief wash over her features.

Lexa smiled back, a soft feeling blooming in her chest. It wasn’t just the physical attraction she felt, but the warmth of the connection that had built between them—unexpected.

“Okay, I’ll get a car for you,” Lexa said, her tone now a little lighter. She quickly ordered a ride for both of them, one for Costia and one for herself, making sure Costia wouldn’t have to worry about getting to her destination.

As she hit the button to confirm the car, Lexa felt a strange mix of emotions—anticipation, excitement, and a lingering sense of nervousness. She didn’t quite know where this was going, but she felt it was something worth exploring.

Costia’s smile lingered as she glanced at Lexa one last time. “I’ll see you soon?” she asked, her voice soft but hopeful.

Lexa nodded, her heart racing just a little. “Definitely,” she said, and as the cars arrived outside the hotel, they parted ways, each of them holding onto the promise of more to come.

Lexa adjusted her clothes and ran her fingers through her hair in the backseat of the car, but no matter how much she tried, her hair remained slightly tousled, and her clothes still bore the unmistakable wrinkles from a night spent elsewhere. She sighed in frustration, giving up as the car pulled up in front of the studio.

The moment the vehicle slowed to a stop, Lexa practically leapt out and hurried inside, her heart racing with anxiety. She hated being late, and even though it was only ten minutes past the meeting's start time, it felt monumental to her. As she burst into the meeting room, slightly out of breath, Anya, her producer, and a few other team members were already seated and waiting.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry—I overslept,” Lexa said quickly, sliding into a chair at the table. Her cheeks were faintly flushed, a mix of embarrassment and the rush to get there on time.

The group glanced at her, but it wasn’t just her tardiness that caught their attention. The slight disarray in her appearance was obvious. Most of the team likely assumed she’d spent the night with Bjorn, but Anya’s sharp, assessing gaze told Lexa that her manager knew better.

“Right,” her producer said, clearing his throat to redirect the focus. “To bring everyone up to speed, we’re making excellent progress on Alexandra’s new album. It’s shaping up to be around 20 tracks, and we’re nearing completion.”

Lexa tried to focus, nodding along with the producer’s words as she smoothed her hands over her crumpled pants.

“We’ve also been discussing whether it might be best to release a single as soon as possible,” one of the team members chimed in, “to keep the momentum going from the buzz after your leaked video.”

Lexa nodded again, this time more attentively.

Anya leaned forward, taking over. “We’ve already discussed this, Alex and I. We’ve selected a single, and it’s fully produced. In theory, we could release it whenever.”

“Well, then I think we should just do it,” the team member replied confidently.

“Today?” Anya asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. She turned to Lexa, her expression a mix of surprise and curiosity.

Lexa blinked, momentarily taken aback, but quickly recovered. “I mean... if you all think it’s the right move, why not?” she said, her voice calm, though the idea of such a spontaneous release left her stomach fluttering.

Anya glanced around the room, gauging the team’s reactions. Everyone nodded in agreement, clearly on board with the plan.

“Alright, then,” Anya said, her tone decisive but tinged with hesitation. “We’ll release the single Foolish One later today.”

There was a palpable sense of excitement in the room as the conversation shifted. The meeting rolled on, diving into discussions about the album’s track order and potential options for a follow-up single.

Lexa participated, though a part of her mind wandered. She couldn’t shake the lingering embarrassment of her late arrival and the knowing look Anya had given her. Still, beneath the slight tension, there was also a spark of anticipation. The idea of releasing a new single, especially one she felt strongly about, sent a small thrill through her. She was nervous, yes, but also eager to see how it would be received.

As the meeting continued, Lexa found herself settling into the rhythm of it, her earlier nerves beginning to fade. This was her career, her passion, and even after a chaotic morning, she was ready to embrace whatever came next.

Lexa stood on the cliffside, staring out over the vast expanse of the ocean. The salty breeze tousled her hair, and the rhythmic sound of waves crashing below gave her a fleeting sense of calm. The meeting earlier had gone well—her first single, Foolish One, would be released later today. It was shaping up to be a good day.

Anya approached quietly from behind, her heels clicking softly against the rocky surface. She stopped beside Lexa and cast a knowing glance at her crumpled clothes before smirking. “So... are you going to tell me about that?”

Lexa looked down at her slightly wrinkled pants and shirt with a small, amused smile. “Don’t worry. She signed an NDA before anything happened.”

Anya’s brow furrowed in confusion, her expression shifting to disbelief. “Wait. Who?”

Lexa hesitated, her confidence faltering for a moment as she stammered, “Uh... well... you know, um…”

Anya’s eyes widened as realization dawned. “No. Alex, no. Not her. Not your fan.” She emphasized the last word, her voice tinged with exasperation. “Alex, she’s a fan. That kind of thing never ends well. That kind of relationship will never be equal.”

Lexa shrugged, her tone defensive but soft. “You don’t know that.”

Anya crossed her arms and fixed Lexa with a sharp look. “I’ve read her blog posts on Reddit. She’s a superfan, Alex. She’s part of that group—the ones obsessed with that stupid lesbian-theory about you.”

Lexa met her gaze steadily, though her jaw tightened. “Well, they’re not wrong.”

Anya’s face twisted in shock, her voice incredulous. “And you’ve already told her that, haven’t you?”

“She signed an NDA, Anya,” Lexa replied firmly.

“What if that doesn’t stop her? What then?” Anya asked, irritation flaring in her voice. “She could out you, Alex. She could. Do you realize what’s at stake here?”

“She wouldn’t do that! You don’t know her!” Lexa snapped back, her voice rising slightly as she defended Costia.

Anya’s eyes narrowed, her voice quieter but no less cutting. “And neither do you.”

That struck a nerve. Lexa stopped, her gaze lowering to the crashing waves below as she gathered her thoughts. When she finally looked back at Anya, her voice was calmer but resolute. “Maybe I’d like to.”

Anya hesitated, her sharp demeanor softening as she studied Lexa’s face. After a moment, she asked, almost in a whisper, “What about Clarke?”

The mention of Clarke made Lexa’s features harden, her irritation flaring again. “What about her? Anya, she has a girlfriend. A girlfriend she can be public with, who can boost her career, who fits her world. She’s done with me—she has been for a long time.”

Anya’s expression shifted, her frustration giving way to a quiet sadness. She said nothing, but Lexa wasn’t done.

“That’s the whole point of the single,” Lexa said, her voice carrying a raw edge of emotion now. “I’m the idiot here, but I’m done just sitting around, waiting. Waiting for something that’s never going to happen.”

Anya exhaled slowly, nodding as if to acknowledge the finality in Lexa’s words. “Okay,” she said quietly, her tone subdued but accepting.

The two women stood there in silence for a moment, the wind filling the space between them. The day was beautiful, but for Lexa, it felt like the edge of something far more complicated.

Clarke sat in Niylah's living room, her thoughts a tangled mess. Clarke knew that she missed Lexa but she didn’t know what she wanted. She leaned back on the couch, her eyes scanning the room as if the answers to her uncertainty might be hidden among the shelves or framed photographs. The radio hummed softly in the background, a faint soundtrack to the conversation she wasn’t sure she wanted to have right now. What to do with her, Raven and Octavia’s New York apartment.

Across from her, Niylah sat close, her hand resting lightly on Clarke’s knee. Her calm presence was usually grounding for Clarke, but today, even Niylah’s warmth couldn’t quiet the storm in her mind.

“What do you have in New York that you can’t have here?” Niylah asked gently, her voice steady, her touch reassuring.

Clarke hesitated, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Maybe my mom," she said quietly. "But you’re right—my friends are here, my career is here now…” Her voice trailed off before she added, almost as an afterthought, "And, of course, you."

Niylah smiled warmly at that, squeezing Clarke’s knee. "Then do it," she said simply. "Sell the apartment. Move in with me. You’re practically living here already."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with significance. Clarke blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice softer now, uncertain.

"Of course I’m sure," Niylah replied, her tone unwavering. "I’m sure about you, Clarke. Move in."

Clarke stared at her, searching Niylah’s face for any sign of hesitation, but there was none. Niylah’s expression was open, loving, and certain in a way Clarke wished she could mirror. But she hesitated. Something in her chest tightened, something she couldn’t quite name.

Niylah noticed the pause and her smile faltered, just slightly. "I can see it’s a big step for you," she said, her tone gentle as ever. "You don’t have to decide right now. Just… think about it."

She leaned forward and kissed Clarke softly, then stood and walked toward the kitchen. Clarke watched her go, her mind racing. She wanted to say yes. She wanted to tell Niylah she was ready. But was she? Was it Niylah she wanted or was it really… Lexa

Niylah turned up the radio slightly as she started preparing something at the counter, the soft hum of the music filling the room again. Clarke tried to focus on the present, on Niylah’s calm movements and the steady rhythm of her life here. But then the radio host’s voice cut through the background noise.

“And now, the brand-new single from Alexandra Woods. Foolish One. Here it is.”

Clarke froze. Her heart skipped a beat as the melody started, followed by Lexa’s voice, rich and unmistakable.

“My cards are on the table, yours are in your hand
Chances are, tonight, you've already got plans
And chances are I will talk myself to sleep again…”

The words hit Clarke like a wave, knocking the air from her lungs. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Lexa’s voice filled the room, hauntingly familiar, each lyric slicing through her carefully built walls.

"You give me just enough attention to keep my hopes too high
Wishful thoughts forget to mention when something's really not right…”

Clarke’s eyes darted to Niylah, who had stopped chopping vegetables. She was staring at the radio now, her expression unreadable. Clarke felt like a deer caught in headlights, her mind racing, but her body frozen.

“You know how to keep me waitin'
I know how to act like I'm fine
Don't know what to call this situation
But I know I can't call you mine…”

Lexa’s voice was everywhere now, filling every corner of the room, every crevice of Clarke’s mind. She felt exposed, like the song was a spotlight shining directly on her deepest fears and regrets.

Niylah turned slowly toward Clarke, her brow furrowed, concern etched into her features. She didn’t say anything, but her silence spoke volumes.

“Oh, you haven't written me or called
But goodbye screamin' in the silence
And the voices in my head are tellin' me why”

Clarke felt panic rising in her chest. She couldn’t explain why. She couldn’t explain any of it.

“'Cause you got her on your arm and me in the wings
I'll get your longing glances, but she'll get your ring”

Niylah walked over to the radio and turned it off, the sudden silence almost deafening. She turned to Clarke, her eyes searching. "I don’t want to assume anything, but… based on your reaction, is there something we need to talk about?"

Clarke shook her head quickly, too quickly. "It’s over," she said, her voice sharper than she intended. "It ended a long time before you and I even..."

Niylah’s gaze didn’t waver. "Are you sure? Because you seem shaken. And you haven’t decided if you want to move in."

"That’s nonsense," Clarke snapped, though her voice trembled. She stood, the sudden movement making her feel unsteady. "I’m not shaken, and I do want to move in. I’ll talk to Raven and Octavia tonight. We’ll put the apartment on the market, and then I’ll officially move in here."

Niylah watched her carefully, her brow furrowing. "Are you sure?" she asked softly.

"Of course!" Clarke insisted, the words spilling out too fast. She gave a tight smile and turned toward the hallway. "I just… I need to use the bathroom."

She hurried away before Niylah could say another word, locking the door behind her. Alone in the small space, Clarke leaned heavily on the sink, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her hands gripped the edge of the counter as she took in her pale face, her wide eyes.

She barely recognized herself.

Clarke closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath, resting her head in her hands. She had made her choice. Lexa was supposed to stay in the past.

But as Clarke stood there, she couldn’t shake the sound of Lexa’s voice, those lyrics replaying over and over in her mind.

Clarke tried to steady her breathing. This isn’t about Lexa anymore, she reminded herself. It’s over. It’s been over for a long time. I’m with Niylah now, and she deserves my full attention.

But even as she thought it, she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of guilt. She knew Niylah was right. Her reaction wasn’t that of someone completely over their past relationship. Lexa’s words in the song had struck something deep inside her—not because they were untrue, but because they were far too close to the truth.

Clarke splashed cold water on her face, trying to shake off the feeling. When she unlocked the door and stepped out, she saw Niylah standing in the kitchen again, her back turned to Clarke. Niylah seemed busy chopping vegetables, but there was a nervous energy in her movements.

Clarke walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I’m sorry I just walked off like that. I just needed a moment," she said, trying to sound sincere.

Niylah looked up at her with a faint smile, but her eyes were still full of questions. "It’s okay, Clarke. But if there’s something you need to talk about, I’m here. You know that, right?"

Clarke nodded quickly, leaving her hand on Niylah’s shoulder. "I know. And it’s nothing. It’s just… memories, I think. It’s hard to hear a song that reminds you of the past, but that’s all it is. I promise."

Niylah nodded slowly, letting it go, though her body language revealed her lingering uncertainty. "Okay. If you say so."

Clarke forced a smile and said, "I mean it. I’m going to talk to Raven and Octavia tonight. We’ll get the apartment listed for sale, and then I’ll officially move in here. It’s going to be good.”

Niylah smiled now, a little more genuinely, and placed her hand over Clarke’s. "I’m looking forward to it. I want you here, Clarke."

Clarke nodded, and looked down at their hands. She tried to ignore the panic in her chest. She forced herself to focus on the present. This was her life now. This was her choice.

Chapter Text

Another hotel room, another hotel bed. The unfamiliar ceilings, the crisp white sheets, the city lights bleeding through heavy curtains—each room different, yet all the same. Their secret, their hiding place.

Tonight, it was a suite on the 21st floor, high enough that the noise of the city below was nothing more than a distant hum. Costia lay curled against Lexa, her head resting on her chest, listening to the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. Lexa’s fingers traced lazy patterns over Costia’s bare shoulder as she recounted a story from one of her past film sets.

“So, my character was supposed to eat an entire slice of cake. And, of course, I did it. But the director had a very specific idea about how it should be eaten,” Lexa said, amusement lacing her voice.

“Oh no,” Costia giggled, already sensing where this was going.

“Yeah. Fifteen takes. Fifteen slices of cake. I was so full I could barely stand up by the end of it. My trainer was pissed.”

Costia laughed, the sound warm against Lexa’s skin. “Is that the worst thing you’ve ever experienced on set?”

Lexa hesitated. The shift was subtle, but Costia felt it. The way Lexa’s fingers stilled against her back, the way her chest rose just a little too slowly with her next breath. Costia turned in her arms, propping herself up so she could see her face.

“No,” Lexa admitted, her voice quieter now. “No, the worst was… something else. Something I don’t normally talk about. the worst was… borderline assault, honestly.”

Costia’s smile faded. “Lexa…”

Lexa exhaled and shook her head slightly, as if trying to wave it off. “My mom pushed me into some pretty intense projects when I was young. Some directors with no boundaries—some sets weren’t safe. But that was just the industry back then. You either played along, or you lost your shot.”

Costia felt a pang in her chest. She reached up, brushing her fingers along Lexa’s cheek, silently offering comfort. Lexa leaned into the touch for a moment before giving a small, humorless smile.

“But now,” Costia said, determined to shift the energy in the room, “you’re about to show the world something new. Something that’s yours.”

Lexa arched an eyebrow. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” Costia grinned, “that I can’t wait to hear your album. None of your fans have any idea they’re about to experience an entirely different side of you.”

Lexa chuckled. “You want to tell them, don’t you?”

“Oh, a hundred percent,” Costia admitted with a dramatic sigh. “But I swear I won’t.”

Lexa smirked, reaching out to cup Costia’s face, her thumb stroking lightly over her cheek. “Thank you,” she murmured before pulling her into a slow, lingering kiss.

For now, this was enough.

Lexa and Costia sat in the backseat of the car, their fingers intertwined in the dim light filtering through the tinted windows. These quiet moments were rare—just the warmth of Costia’s palm against hers, the occasional brush of their shoulders as the car moved through the streets of Los Angeles.

They were headed to a small café, Costia’s workplace. The driver had been instructed to stop a little further down the street, away from prying eyes. No unnecessary risks. No reason to make people wonder why Alexandra Woods was dropping off a woman at a random café in the middle of the city.

As the car slowed, Costia turned to Lexa with a small smile. “You’ll be fine today,” she said softly, squeezing her hand.

Lexa exhaled, her nerves creeping in again. “I hope so.”

Costia leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips. Then, with one last squeeze of Lexa’s hand, Costia slipped out of the car, casting her a quick glance before walking toward the café as if nothing had happened. As if they were nothing more than two people living separate lives.

Lexa watched her disappear inside before the car pulled back into traffic, taking her toward the studio. Her stomach churned with nerves.

Tonight, her album would be released. A surprise drop. No one outside her team knew. No promotions, no buildup—just music, raw and exposed, set free into the world.

Lexa clenched her hands into fists, trying to steady herself. She had never felt this vulnerable before. Acting was different—scripts, characters, a veil to hide behind. But this? These were her words, her emotions, her heartbreak, all wrapped up in melodies.

She had no idea how the world would receive it.

And that terrified her.

As Lexa walked into the studio, her posture was straight, her expression unreadable—a carefully curated presence of power and control. If her team saw her as confident, unshakable, then maybe she could convince herself she was. Today was too important for nerves or distractions. She had to play the role. And she was good at playing roles.

That was, until Anya stepped directly into her path, stopping her in her tracks.

"Lexa. We need to talk," Anya said in a low, serious voice.

Lexa frowned, confusion flickering in her eyes. "What is it?"

Anya crossed her arms. "Why am I hearing rumors that you’re booking a new hotel room every single day? That you’ve almost cycled through every decent hotel in Los Angeles?"

Lexa barely hesitated before offering a casual shrug. "Roan’s still in town. What was I supposed to do?" she said, as if it were the most logical solution in the world.

Anya sighed, clearly unimpressed. "I don’t know… maybe rent a house? Like you did when you were with Clarke? Or—I hate even suggesting this—but doesn’t she have a home?"

Lexa shook her head. "Not an option. She has roommates. And honestly, don’t you think it would raise even more questions if I started renting beachfront properties again?"

Anya gave her a look, unimpressed. "And Roan? He can’t be home all the time. Send him out. Tell him to take a weekend trip. Hell, book him a hotel for a change and bring her to your place."

Lexa hesitated, considering it. Anya took that moment to add firmly, "No more hotel rooms, Lexa."

Then, without waiting for an argument, Anya turned and headed toward the conference room.

Lexa exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair before following her inside.

Clarke was in Anya’s guest room, hurriedly packing her things, her hands moving faster than her mind could keep up. She didn’t want to stop—not even for a second—because she was afraid that if she did, doubt would seep in and twist everything. She needed to keep moving, to push forward before her own emotions could catch up with her.

"Hey, I thought that was you," Raven’s voice cut through the quiet, soft but with a knowing edge. "So, you’re moving in with Niylah?" Her words felt like a pin prick, popping the fragile bubble Clarke had been trying to maintain around herself.

Clarke’s heart sank at the question, but she nodded without looking up. "Yeah… she asked, and I said yes." Her voice came out steady, almost too steady, as if saying it aloud might somehow make it real in a way she wasn’t ready for. She folded a shirt, but it felt heavy in her hands, like it was wrapped in all the weight of the decision she wasn’t sure about.

"I figured," Raven said, stepping further into the room. "Especially after you texted and asked if we could sell our place in New York. I talked to Octavia—she’s fine with it. She’s already looking for something here in L.A."

Clarke froze for a moment, the guilt hitting her like a wave. She hadn’t even considered how this might affect Raven and Octavia, hadn’t thought about anything beyond her own messy feelings. Slowly, she put down the shirt, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. Without looking up, she asked, "And you? What about you?"

Raven shrugged, her tone casual. "I’ll probably just stay here. Anya said there’s no rush for a decision, and honestly, I pretty much live here already." She paused for a beat before adding, "But hey, it’s good for you and Niylah. This is a big step."

Clarke’s jaw clenched, her emotions shifting uncomfortably. She stared at the shirt she’d just folded, but the words weren’t coming out right, so she just waited, letting the silence fill the room. A sudden wave of something hot and tight swelled in her chest. She hadn’t realized how much the idea of moving on, moving forward, was weighing on her until that moment. Her throat tightened as if something was trying to break free.

"Hey… are you okay?" Raven asked, her voice soft now, but still filled with concern. She tried to make eye contact, but Clarke couldn’t meet her gaze.

Clarke nodded slowly, blinking rapidly, trying to push down the feelings that threatened to flood her. She could feel the tears building, but she wasn’t ready to let them fall. "I’m fine," she murmured, but even she didn’t believe it.

"Clarke," Raven said again, and this time there was a deep, worried edge to her voice. "Are you sure?"

Clarke shook her head slowly, feeling like her whole world was tilting in ways she couldn’t control. She took a long breath, trying to steady herself, but it wasn’t working. "It just… it suddenly feels so real. So serious."

"Is that a bad thing? That things are getting serious?" Raven asked, her voice gentle, but Clarke could hear the hint of something deeper behind the words.

Clarke hesitated, her eyes on the floor as she tried to find the right words. "No… or maybe. I don’t know. It wasn’t supposed to be like this." She sucked in a breath, willing herself to stay composed. "Our relationship was never supposed to be this complicated. It was just—" she faltered, her voice thick with the weight of everything unspoken. "It was supposed to be casual. Just something between us. But somewhere along the way… it became something else."

"Something else?" Raven prodded, sensing the shift in Clarke’s emotions.

"I… I didn’t expect it to become serious. It just did, and now I don’t know..." Clarke’s words were laced with uncertainty and vulnerability.

Raven looked at her carefully, concern etched on her face. "Do you not want that? Do you not want to be with Niylah?" Her voice was gentle, but she seemed surprised.

Clarke looked up, her gaze softening with the rawness of everything she hadn’t fully processed yet. "Of course I like her. I do. But… I thought that… I thought…" She stopped, her throat tightening again as she tried to form the words. "I miss..."

Raven’s brow furrowed, trying to piece it together. "Lexa?" she asked, her voice gentle but direct. "I thought you and Lexa were long over. You haven’t really talked to her since you left L.A."

Clarke flinched at the mention of Lexa’s name, feeling the weight of those months without her. She looked down at her hands, her fingers curling around the fabric of the shirt, but the memories she had tried to bury were suddenly flooding back. "That’s not entirely true," she said softly. "She wrote to me. A lot, actually. She apologized. She tried calling, and she sent me songs. Songs where she… she took the blame for everything." Clarke’s voice cracked as she said it, the pain of it all seeping through. "I wasn’t ready. I ignored her or answered with the shortest responses I could manage."

Raven listened quietly, her eyes never leaving Clarke. She understood. She had seen Clarke go through this already, but it didn’t make it easier.

"It was never going to be enough, not when we couldn’t see each other. I always thought that when she came back to L.A., she’d come find me. But she didn’t. And I guess it had already been three months by then… maybe she had already moved on." Clarke’s voice was soft, almost regretful, but her mind was racing, caught between what she thought she wanted and what her heart was telling her.

Raven paused before speaking, choosing her words carefully. "I saw her the first day we got to L.A."

Clarke looked up sharply, surprise and confusion evident in her eyes. "You saw her?"

Raven nodded slowly. "Yeah. At Anya’s office. She asked about you, but you were with Niylah, and focused on the exhibit.”

Clarke’s heart skipped a beat. "What did you say to her?"

Raven hesitated for a moment. "I told her that if you wanted to see her, you’d reach out. And then she asked me to tell you that she was back in town."

Clarke’s world seemed to tilt for a moment, and she blinked, unsure whether she had heard Raven right. "You never told me that."

Raven shrugged, her face unreadable. "I thought you were over it. You knew she was back in town."

Clarke’s chest tightened. "Yeah. I could’ve reached out," she said, more to herself than to Raven. "Maybe I should have. Maybe I still should… but—"

Raven’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. "I think she’s seeing someone."

Clarke felt the blood drain from her face. "What?" she asked, barely above a whisper.

"The woman she was photographed with. I tracked her down for Lexa," Raven explained, her words slowly sinking in.

Clarke’s world felt like it was crumbling around her. "Okay…" she managed, though her voice was small, fragile.

Raven sighed, her expression softening. "I shouldn’t say this, but Anya tells me a lot of things, especially when she’s upset. And… Lexa’s relationship? It’s not sitting well with her."

Clarke’s heart clenched in her chest, and she sank onto the edge of the bed, feeling utterly lost. "So that’s it, then." Her words were barely a whisper, the finality of them hanging in the air between them.

Raven walked over to her slowly, concern etched across her features. "Clarke… I can’t make your decisions for you, but if you’re still feeling this way about Lexa… should you really be moving in with Niylah?" she asked quietly.

Clarke’s shoulders slumped. "It’s not like I don’t care about Niylah," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "And… You just said it—everything with Lexa is really over."

Raven nodded, but her voice was firm. "Maybe you should talk to Lexa. Even if it’s just for closure. Or talk to Niylah. Be honest with her."

Clarke’s breath caught in her throat. "You think I should risk my future with Niylah for… what? For a chance with Lexa?"

Raven looked at her, her gaze steady and sure. "Clarke, if you still want Lexa, do you even have a future with Niylah?"

Clarke stared down at her half-packed bags, her heart in turmoil, but she said nothing more.

Lexa knocked on the door of the guest room where Roan was sleeping. "Come in," Roan called out, his voice muffled from the bed. Lexa opened the door and peered inside. Roan was lounging on the bed, his disheveled room a testament to how comfortable he was here.

"Hey, sis. What’s up?" Roan greeted, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

"How about a night out in the city tonight?" Lexa asked.

Roan's face lit up immediately as he sat up. "Hell yeah. I'd love to show you how to party," he replied with a grin, his eyes sparkling.

Lexa chuckled softly and then hesitated for a moment, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks. "What if I stay in and you go out?" she suggested.

Roan froze for a second, clearly confused. "Wait, what?”

Lexa shifted her weight nervously, her fingers playing with the hem of her sleeve as she avoided his gaze. "I’m getting a visitor... and I’d like to be alone here tonight," she admitted, her voice soft.

Roan’s face lit up with an exaggerated grin as he leaned back on the bed. "Is it him? Bjorn? Or someone else?" he asked with a teasing wink. He waved his hand dismissively before Lexa could respond. "Doesn’t matter. I’ll take off tonight. I’ll be out until late. No problem at all."

Lexa let out a relieved sigh, her body relaxing slightly at the understanding. "Thanks, Roan," she said, grateful.

Roan threw her a playful salute, his smile widening. "No problem at all. Have fun with your... visitor," he teased as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

Lexa stood there for a moment, watching him leave, feeling the weight of the night ahead settle in. A soft smile on her lips as she thought of the time she’d be spending alone with Costia later.

A car pulled up to Lexa's house, the engine rumbling as it came to a slow stop. Lexa stood waiting by the open front door, her heart already racing in anticipation. The sun was setting, casting a soft orange glow over everything. As Costia stepped out of the car, their eyes met, and in that instant, the world seemed to fade away. Lexa’s smile was bright and full of warmth as she walked toward Costia, taking her hand and guiding her through the threshold of her home.

The air between them was electric. As they moved through the house, Lexa’s fingers brushed Costia's, sending a jolt of electricity through both of them. They were barely inside before Lexa's lips found Costia’s in a kiss, deep and urgent, as if they had been waiting for this moment for what felt like forever. Their bodies pressed against the cool wall, the contact sending waves of heat between them. Lexa's hands slid around Costia's waist, pulling her closer, while Costia’s fingers tangled in Lexa's hair, keeping her there.

The kiss was everything: raw and passionate. Slowly, they broke apart, their breaths heavy.

Without a word, Lexa led Costia toward her bedroom, where they fell onto the bed, tangled in each other's arms.

The doorbell rang, jolting Lexa from her sleep. She blinked her eyes open, disoriented by the sudden interruption. It was clearly early, and the soft morning light streamed into the room, casting shadows across the bed. Costia, peacefully asleep beside her, didn’t stir. Lexa sighed softly, not wanting to wake her but knowing she couldn’t ignore the door. She slipped out of bed quietly, making sure not to disturb the calm of the moment. She quickly threw on some clothes, not bothering to make herself presentable for whoever had shown up unannounced.

When she opened the door, she was met with a sight she wasn’t prepared for—her mother, Nia, standing there with a cameraman and sound technician right behind her. Nia was all smiles, greeting her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Honey! So glad to see you!” Nia exclaimed, stepping forward and giving Lexa a kiss on each cheek. “I’ve missed you so much,” she added, breezing past her into the house without waiting for an invitation. The two men followed her in, the sound of their footsteps muffled as they entered the quiet home.

Lexa stood frozen for a moment, the unexpected arrival catching her off guard. “What are you doing here?” she asked, a hint of irritation creeping into her voice as she closed the door behind her.

“Oh, you seemed so down when we last spoke,” Nia responded, brushing off any sense of intrusion. “What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t check in on my poor daughter?” she added, her voice dripping with concern that didn’t quite match the situation.

“Okay…” Lexa replied slowly, her gaze flicking toward the camera. There was no way she was letting this turn into a spectacle. “Come on, let’s have some coffee,” Nia said, already heading toward the kitchen as if she had done it a thousand times before.

Lexa hesitated, casting a brief look toward the hallway where her bedroom was. She knew Costia was still asleep, oblivious to the interruption. The last thing she needed was her mother making a scene. Nia, however, noticed the glance and paused for a moment, looking toward the bedroom. But instead of saying anything, she simply kept moving toward the kitchen.

“Where’s your lovely brother? Oh, there he is!” Nia said, brightening up as Roan appeared in the kitchen. She made a beeline for him, enveloping him in a hug. “Come here, my boy,” she said, holding him tightly. But as they stood close, she whispered in Roan’s ear, her tone lowering to something more private. “Entertain your sister. Keep her well-occupied,” she whispered before pulling back and turning toward the hallway.

“Where’s your bathroom, darling? Oh, I’ll find it,” Nia added, already heading toward the hallway without waiting for a response.

Lexa felt a weight settle in her chest as she stood there with Roan. The camera lingered in the kitchen, the crew still there, watching them like everything was perfectly normal. Roan, oblivious to the tension in the air, grinned at the camera.

“Well, I’ve been visiting for a while now, huh, sis?” Roan said, his arm casually draping around Lexa’s shoulders. His tone was light and playful, but it did nothing to ease the knot in Lexa’s stomach.

“Guess who I met last night?” Roan began, his voice bubbling with excitement, unaware of the inner turmoil he was stirring in his sister. The last thing Lexa wanted was to deal with her mother’s cameras today, not with Costia still sleeping in her bed, and not with the pressure of having to act normal under the watchful eyes of the crew.

Nia moved down the hallway with slow, deliberate steps, her heels clicking sharply on the hardwood floor, each sound echoing in the silence. She opened each door with a slight push, peeking inside with the practiced eye of someone who had done this many times before. But this time felt different. She had a purpose. She wasn't just snooping; she was searching for something important. Something to keep Lexa in line. Lexa had always been too independent, too out of control for Nia’s liking. She couldn’t risk her daughter getting too close to anyone who might be a distraction. Nia’s mind raced as she moved from one room to the next, expecting to find some random man who had spent the night, some fleeting fling.

She reached the door to Lexa’s bedroom. She opened the door slowly, a sharp intake of breath escaping her lips when she saw what was inside.

Costia lay there, asleep in Lexa's bed, looking peaceful and unaware of the storm that was about to hit. Nia stood there for a moment, disbelief and fury mixing in her chest. The image of the two women in the bed together burned itself into her mind. It wasn’t some meaningless affair. This was something else. This... this was beyond what Nia had anticipated.

Without a second thought, Nia stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. She gave Costia a hard shove, rousing her from her slumber. The young woman stirred, pulling the covers tighter around herself in confusion as she scanned the room, disoriented, and looking for Lexa.

"Who are you?" Costia asked, her voice thick with sleep, trying to make sense of the situation.

Nia’s face twisted into an almost predatory expression, her voice turning sharp as she demanded, “The real question is, who are you?” She stepped closer, her presence overpowering. “Full name.”

Costia, still confused, blinked rapidly, trying to comprehend the situation. “What?” she stammered, clearly not understanding why she was being interrogated in such a manner.

“Are you stupid? Full name, now,” Nia commanded, her tone unyielding, her patience worn thin.

“Cos… Costia Sylva Mourningvale,” Costia said, her voice hesitant, not quite believing what was happening.

Nia’s eyes narrowed, inspecting the woman before her with a cruel gaze. She let the name roll around in her mind before she scoffed. "What do you do for a living, Miss Mourningvale?" Nia’s words were clipped, each one stinging with judgment.

“I’m a waitress at a café,” Costia replied, her voice wavering slightly under the weight of Nia's gaze. She couldn’t help but feel small in front of the older woman.

Nia’s lip curled in disdain. “Oh, for God’s sake, what a cliché.” she muttered, clearly disgusted. She reached into her purse, pulling out a checkbook with practiced ease, and began writing on it without sparing Costia a second glance. The sound of the pen scratching across paper was almost deafening in the quiet room.

Costia, completely overwhelmed, looked around the room, her mind racing for an explanation, for a way to get out of this. But Nia seemed so composed, so calculated. There was no escaping this situation.

With a final flourish, Nia tossed the check onto the bed, her eyes never leaving Costia’s face. "You’re leaving. You won’t say goodbye to Alexandra. You won’t contact her again. And you will leave Los Angeles, completely," Nia said, her voice cold, almost icy in its finality.

“What?” Costia asked again, her voice trembling with confusion and fear.

Nia's eyes hardened, her lips pulling into a thin line. “Take the money and leave. If you stay, I’ll make sure your life is over,” she said, the threat hanging heavy in the air.

Costia felt a lump rise in her throat, her heart racing. Fear clenched at her chest, and she could feel the cold sweat on her palms. She didn't know what to do, what to say.

Nia, sensing Costia’s hesitation, took a small step closer, her gaze never breaking. She spoke in a low, menacing voice, each word dripping with malice. “There are many ways to end someone’s life, Miss Mourningvale. Don't test me.”

Costia’s mouth went dry, her mind whirling. She nodded quickly, her body shaking, fear and panic overwhelming her.

Nia gave her one last, almost contemptuous look before turning on her heel, the sound of her footsteps reverberating down the hallway as she left the room.

Costia remained frozen for a long moment, staring at the check on the bed, still trying to process what had just happened. She never imagined anything like this. The pressure of it all was suffocating.

Costia knew she had no choice but to leave. She looked at the check, she needed to leave, and she needed to do it fast.

Nia entered the kitchen with an air of confidence, a smile plastered on her face as she surveyed the scene. Roan and Lexa were still standing together, chatting with the crew. The energy in the room was almost nauseatingly forced, the pretentiousness of the situation almost palpable. Lexa, though trying to remain composed, looked uncomfortable under the spotlight, while Roan seemed more at ease in front of the cameras, a typical display for him.

"How wonderful it is to see my children so happy and content," Nia exclaimed, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "It’s a shame we don’t get to be together more often." The words felt rehearsed, as if she was more focused on playing the role of the perfect mother than actually connecting with her children.

Roan beamed, the smile stretching from ear to ear as he cast his gaze between Nia and Lexa. Lexa, on the other hand, couldn’t mask her discomfort. She shifted on her feet, eyes flicking toward the door as if she was trying to will herself somewhere else.

Nia, noticing Lexa’s disconnection, moved closer, sandwiching herself between her children. The cameras caught it all, the perfect family dynamic. "When you have twins," Nia continued in a softer, almost wistful tone, "it can be hard to see them as distinct individuals. But my dear children, they are so different. Like fire and water."

Lexa rolled her eyes so slightly, it almost went unnoticed by the cameras. The scripted speech grated on her. She couldn’t stand the image Nia was so desperately trying to project. But before Lexa could retreat fully into her own thoughts, she saw Costia making her way out the door, head bent in a quiet sort of defeat.

In an instant, Lexa’s discomfort transformed into panic. She rushed after her, calling out her name. "Hey, wait!" Her voice was sharp, a mix of fear and urgency.

Roan turned to her, brows furrowed in confusion. Nia, on the other hand, scowled, her gaze narrowing as she watched Lexa bolt for the door.

Costia didn’t stop, her pace quickening. Lexa, faster and fueled by a newfound anxiety, finally reached her, catching up and gently grabbing her arm to slow her down. "What’s going on? Why are you leaving?" Lexa asked, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to read Costia’s expression.

Costia pulled her arm away softly, not meeting her gaze. "I have to go," she replied, the words heavy with resignation.

A sharp pain pierced Lexa’s chest as the reality of the situation hit her. "You took money from her, didn’t you?" she asked, voice faltering with the weight of the accusation.

Costia hesitated, her lips trembling.

Lexa took a step back, a rush of emotions crashing over her. "What does she want from you? No contact with me, what else?" she asked, the frustration clear in her voice as her thoughts spiraled.

Costia seemed small in that moment, her shoulders sagging. "She’s making me leave Los Angeles," she whispered. "She wants me gone."

Lexa felt her heart splinter at the words.

"No," she said firmly, shaking her head as if she could will it all away. "No, Costia. Your life is here—your friends, your job."

Costia slowly lifted her head, her eyes meeting Lexa’s for the first time. There was a hollow look in her gaze, a painful acceptance. "I moved here for dreams that will never come true," she said softly. "With this money... I can start over. Somewhere new."

The words cut through Lexa like a knife. "I’m sorry," she whispered, the apology barely audible, but filled with so much more than she could say.

"It’s not your fault," Costia replied, her voice barely more than a breath. But before Lexa could respond, Costia stepped back, her gaze shifting toward Lexa’s house, where Roan, Nia, and the camera crew still stood, observing the scene.

With one final, long glance at Lexa, Costia turned, walking away with a sense of quiet dignity.

Lexa stood frozen for a moment, a mix of fury and devastation roiling inside her. With determined steps, she marched back toward the group at the door.

Roan looked genuinely lost, his eyes darting between Lexa and Nia, unsure of what was unfolding. Nia, however, stood unfazed, her cold exterior unshaken by the tension in the air.

"You there!" Lexa snapped, her eyes burning with anger as she turned on the cameraman. "You don’t have permission to film here. This is private property!" The cameraman fumbled, quickly lowering the camera from his shoulder, clearly caught off guard by Lexa’s intensity.

"And you," Lexa hissed, her eyes narrowing as she locked onto Nia. "You are not welcome here."

With a deep breath, Lexa pulled out her phone, her fingers flying over the screen with practiced precision.

Seconds later, a large figure appeared at the gate, his imposing presence cutting through the tension like a blade. Gustus, Lexa’s personal security guard, strode forward with purpose, eyes hard as stone.

"Gustus," Lexa ordered, her voice firm. "I need a guard posted at my gate immediately. Make a list of people who are not allowed on my property. Nia Woods is to be at the top of that list."

Gustus gave a sharp nod, his expression unwavering as he acknowledged the command.

Roan, still clearly confused and distressed, stepped forward, trying to make sense of the situation. "Alexandra, this is a bit extreme, don’t you think?" he asked, his voice faltering as he tried to make peace.

Lexa turned to him, her gaze icy. She studied him for a long moment before speaking, her voice low but filled with an edge that sent a chill through the air. "Did she ask you to distract me when she arrived?"

Roan, caught off guard, stammered. "What? I... I didn’t…"

"Did she?" Lexa repeated, her patience thinning, the layers of anger peeling away to reveal her hurt.

Roan faltered under her gaze, his face pale as he realized the role he had played. "I... I was supposed to entertain you, maybe..." he admitted, his voice trailing off as he looked away.

Nia rolled her eyes at Roan’s honesty, her irritation evident as she turned on her heel and walked toward her car, motioning for the crew to follow her.

Lexa stood still, the fury in her chest settling into a cold, steely resolve. She turned to Gustus, her tone unwavering. "Make sure Roan packs his things and leaves. His name—Roan Woods—also goes on the list."

Gustus nodded without hesitation, stepping toward Roan, who tried to pull away, but Gustus’ grip was firm. "You need to go. Now," he instructed.

Roan shot a desperate, helpless glance at Lexa. "I didn’t know what she was going to do," he said quickly, his voice shaking as he passed her, his face filled with regret. "I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I’m sorry."

Lexa didn’t respond. She stood there, her eyes focused on the door as she heard Roan leave. She didn’t need his apologies; she had already made up her mind. The door clicked shut behind him, and a finality settled in the air. The silence was deafening, leaving Lexa standing there, heart heavy but determined.

Lexa walked into her now empty house. Tears flowed freely. Costia might not have been the love of her life, but they liked each other, and she didn’t deserve this. Lexa’s music had been released last night, and she had planned to celebrate with Costia this morning. Now, she barely had the strength to look at what was being said. She walked into her kitchen, almost without hesitation, grabbed the whiskey bottle, and took a large gulp. The anger inside her became overwhelming, and she slammed the bottle down on the kitchen counter. The bottle shattered in her hand. Whiskey spilled across the floor, and her hand was covered in blood from the shards of glass.

She breathed heavily, the burning anger filling her body like a flame she couldn’t control. She could hardly believe what had happened. It hurt to realize that her brother hadn’t been on her side, that he had followed Nia’s orders without thinking.

She looked at the glass shards scattered across the kitchen counter and saw the blood slowly dripping from her hand. It was as if her body couldn’t separate the pain from the rage. Her vision blurred.

But the pain wasn’t just physical. It was the emotional abyss she was in. Costia had been an escape from it all, from her mother’s toxic grip. And now she was gone. Nia had gotten her way, and it burned in Lexa’s chest like a smoldering, painful flame.

A hollow laugh escaped her lips, but it was bitter, full of scorn and frustration. Why was her life always so complicated? Why couldn’t she just be happy, even for a moment? Why did her mother have so much power over her? Lexa looked at the glass shards and felt another rush of anger, but this time, she couldn’t bring herself to react.

Chapter Text

Lexa sat motionless on the cold kitchen floor, surrounded by the remnants of her own destruction—whiskey soaking on the tile, shattered glass glinting in the dim light, and blood smeared across her trembling fingers. The air smelled of alcohol and something metallic. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, her gaze unfocused, staring at nothing. She felt hollow, like the world had drained her dry, leaving her with nothing but this heavy, aching void inside her.

The front door creaked open.

Anya walked in, distracted, pulling off her jacket with one hand as she muttered to herself. "And then she didn’t even know who I was. Alex, you’ve apparently increased security at your gate. Some new guard refused to let me in because she had no clue who I was." She let out an exasperated sigh, oblivious to the wreckage just beyond the kitchen. "She wouldn’t open the damn gate, Alex. It wasn’t until she got hold of Gustus that I was finally let in. I support you needing extra security, but let’s make sure your people are actually informed in the future."

Then she saw her.

Anya stopped mid-step. Her entire body stiffened, and for a second, she just stared.

The bag in her hands slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor with a dull thud. "Alex?" Her voice, so casual just moments ago, now carried an edge of panic. She rushed forward, dropping to her knees beside Lexa, her hands hovering over her as if she didn’t know where to touch first. "What the hell happened?"

Lexa barely moved. Her eyes flickered toward Anya, but they looked distant, lost. Her lips parted as if she wanted to answer, but the words caught in her throat. It took a few agonizing moments before she finally found her voice, quiet and raw.

"My mother…" Lexa exhaled sharply, her breath uneven. "She showed up. And Roan… he distracted me just long enough for her to get to Costia." Her voice wavered, and she swallowed hard as if trying to keep herself together, but it wasn’t working. "She scared Costia. Paid her off. Told her to leave. Leave Los Angeles. And she did."

Anya’s eyes darkened with fury, but she didn’t speak. She just listened.

Lexa let out a breath that turned into something closer to a broken laugh, but there was no humor in it. "I know you didn’t like her," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. "But I did. And now…" Her jaw clenched, and her hands curled into fists, tiny shards of glass pressing deeper into her palm. She hardly felt it. "Why can't I just have something good?" Her voice cracked, raw and unfiltered, thick with exhaustion and something dangerously close to defeat.

Anya didn’t hesitate. She wrapped her arms around Lexa and pulled her into a tight embrace.

For a moment, Lexa didn’t move. She sat frozen, her body rigid, like she wasn’t sure if she could let go. Let herself break. Let herself need this. But then, all at once, the weight became too much. The dam broke. A ragged sob tore from her throat, and she clung to Anya, gripping the back of her sweater as if it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely.

Anya said nothing. She didn’t tell Lexa it would be okay, because right now, it wasn’t.

She just held her.

Lexa sat on the couch in her living room, staring blankly at the far wall. The chaos had settled, but inside, she felt like a storm was still raging. The whiskey was gone, the glass had been cleaned up, and yet the emptiness remained. Her body felt heavy, drained, as if her bones were weighed down with something invisible.

Her right hand rested palm-up in her lap, and across from her, Nyko, her private doctor, was carefully removing tiny shards of glass from the cuts along her skin. His hands were steady, precise, as he used a pair of tweezers to extract each sliver embedded in her flesh. Occasionally, there was a sharp sting, but Lexa barely reacted. The pain was distant, secondary to the ache in her chest.

Anya sat beside her, quiet but present, her body angled slightly toward Lexa as if she could physically shield her from everything that had happened.

After a long silence, Anya finally spoke. Her voice was gentle but firm. “Have you even checked the reception of your album?”

Lexa barely registered the question at first. She blinked, as if coming back to herself, then slowly turned to look at Anya with an expression that was almost blank.

Anya gave her a small, reassuring smile. “They love it, Alex. The critics, your fans—everyone. It’s still early, but from the way things are looking, your music is already a massive success. A surprise release was a risk, but it’s paid off.”

Lexa let out a slow breath through her nose. She wanted to feel something—pride, relief, excitement—but the emotions just weren’t there. Instead, she managed the faintest ghost of a smile before it disappeared again.

Encouraged, Anya continued, “It’s completely drowning out all the bad press you had before. And that’s not all—you’re getting more offers than ever. TV, film, theater… a surprising number of musicals, actually.” She paused, watching for any sign of interest from Lexa. “Even Steel wants you back. He apologized.”

Lexa’s head snapped up at that, her eyes narrowing slightly in disbelief. “Steel apologized?”

Anya nodded. “He did. He admitted he was wrong to believe the rumors. Said he regretted cutting you loose so quickly.”

Lexa let out a dry, humorless laugh.

“I know,” Anya said, shrugging. “But it’s real. You have choices now, Alex. You’re not clawing your way back anymore. They’re coming to you.” She tilted her head, studying Lexa carefully. “So… what do you want?”

Lexa blinked, caught off guard by the question. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, searching for an answer she didn’t have. Finally, she admitted, “I don’t know.”

Anya leaned in slightly, trying to gauge her. “We have the biggest projects in Hollywood on our desk, Alex. We could go after every major award if we wanted to.”

Lexa exhaled sharply and shook her head. “I don’t care about awards.” Her voice was quiet but resolute. “My mother would love it if I won another Oscar. She’d take full credit, say she ‘cleared all my distractions’ so I could ‘focus on my craft.’”

Anya’s expression darkened slightly, but she didn’t say anything.

Lexa swallowed and continued, “I don’t want to do this for her. Or for them. I don’t want to do something just because it’s ‘big’ or ‘important.’” She paused, gathering her thoughts, then said more firmly, “Maybe something smaller. Something real. Something that actually means something. Something that could actually benefit from a name like mine.”

Anya nodded, smiling slightly. “They could all benefit from a name like yours.”

Lexa tilted her head slightly, considering.

Anya’s smile widened, and for the first time that day, Lexa felt the smallest flicker of something like purpose.

Lexa exhaled slowly and said, "Then let’s find a project we believe in."

Lexa felt like she was breathing again.

Clarke stepped into Niylah’s apartment, empty-handed. Her belongings, though nearly packed, still sat untouched in the guest room at Anya’s place. She had meant to bring them here today. Had planned to. But she realized she couldn’t.

She felt lightheaded, like the floor might disappear beneath her feet at any second.

Niylah sat curled up on the couch, her laptop balanced on her knees. At the sound of the door opening and closing, she looked up and spotted Clarke. Her face lit up with that easy, affectionate smile Clarke had grown so used to.

"Hey, honey," Niylah said, her voice soft and warm, like she truly believed Clarke had just come home. "Glad you’re back."

Clarke’s stomach twisted painfully at the words.

Then Niylah’s gaze flickered downward, noticing Clarke’s lack of bags. No suitcase. No boxes. Just Clarke, standing there, her hands curled into fists at her sides, like she was trying to hold something in.

The smile on Niylah’s lips faltered slightly, though she tried to play it off.

"Where are your things?" she asked, casually, as if it was a simple question with a simple answer.

But Clarke just swallowed hard, forcing her body to move, to take slow, deliberate steps toward the couch. She sat down beside Niylah, close but not quite touching, and suddenly it felt like the air around them had changed.

Something in Niylah’s posture stiffened, her fingers pausing over the keyboard. She sensed it.

Clarke inhaled deeply, trying to find the right words. Trying to prepare herself for the hurt she was about to cause.

"I… I think we need to talk," Clarke said, her voice barely above a whisper.

The last trace of a smile disappeared from Niylah’s lips.

There was a beat of silence before she asked, in a voice that was too calm, too steady, "What’s going on?"

Clarke clenched her hands together to stop them from shaking.

"Niylah, I think you’re amazing—"

A breath of laughter escaped Niylah, the sound light, almost amused, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

"Oh no," she said with a tiny, knowing smile, shaking her head. "I know where this is going."

Clarke blinked at her, caught off guard.

"You’re about to say something bad," Niylah continued, trying to ease the tension with a joke, even though her voice wavered slightly. "‘Niylah, you’re amazing, but you’re messy.’ ‘You’re amazing, but I want to move back to New York.’ ‘You’re amazing, but… this is moving too fast.’" She tilted her head, smiling at Clarke like she could somehow make it easier for her to say whatever was coming next.

But Clarke didn’t smile. She couldn’t.

And Niylah saw it then—the heaviness in Clarke’s eyes, the hesitation pulling her shoulders down, the way her whole body seemed to be fighting against the words she was about to say.

Niylah’s smile faded entirely.

Clarke took another shaky breath.

"You’re amazing… but this is moving too fast."

Silence.

Niylah stared at her, something unreadable flickering in her dark eyes. But she didn’t flinch, didn’t immediately react, just watched Clarke, waiting.

Clarke felt her throat tighten.

"When we got together," she started again, carefully choosing her words, "I was heartbroken. I had just walked away from—" she hesitated, forcing herself to say it, "Alexandra."

Niylah’s jaw tightened slightly, but she nodded, urging Clarke to continue.

"I needed a distraction. I needed my art. And, for me, you became part of that art. You helped me through it, Niylah. And I love you for that, I really do." Clarke’s voice cracked, but she pushed forward, knowing she had to say it all, even if it hurt. "But…"

She hesitated, her stomach twisting violently.

Niylah always valued honesty, but there were truths so sharp they bordered on cruelty.

Niylah waited, unwavering, silent.

"But… when I really listen to myself," Clarke finally admitted, "I realize it’s someone else I miss. Someone else I still… feel for."

The words sat between them like a heavy weight.

"Alexandra," Niylah whispered, barely audible.

Clarke nodded, tears stinging at her eyes.

"I hate that I might’ve done this wrong," she said, her voice raw. "I wanted to be with you. I believed in us. I really thought I’d be able to move on, to let go. But I haven’t, and I don’t know if I ever really did."

Niylah’s breath hitched. Her eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t break down. Instead, she asked, in a voice so small it barely reached Clarke’s ears, "Was I just a way to get ahead? Was I only useful for my connections?"

"No. No, God, no," Clarke said, shaking her head fiercely. "I swear to you, that’s not what this was. I believed in us. I still do, in a way. But I just—" She ran a hand over her face, exhaling shakily. "I’m sorry, Niylah. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner. I just don’t have everything figured out."

Niylah wiped at her tears, but they kept coming.

"I don’t have everything figured out, you know," Niylah said softly. "I don’t have it all together. But I did know one thing—I wanted you." She let out a quiet, broken laugh. "I just don’t know how I’m supposed to move on from this. From you."

Clarke reached for her hand, but Niylah pulled away, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes instead.

"Is this it, then?" Clarke asked, her voice thick with emotion. "Are we done?"

Clarke bit the inside of her cheek, forcing back a sob.

Niylah sniffled and nodded, her lips pressing together tightly before she whispered, "I think we have to be. You’re in love with Alexandra, Clarke. I could already see it yesterday. But now you’re saying it out loud. That means it has to be over between us."

Clarke felt like the air had been knocked out of her chest.

"I’m so sorry," she whispered.

Niylah stared at the far wall, silent for a long moment before saying, in a barely-there voice, "It’s not really your fault. Not entirely. You can’t control how you feel. But…" She finally looked at Clarke, her eyes filled with quiet devastation. "I think you should go now."

Clarke swallowed the lump in her throat, then stood slowly.

She lingered for half a second, searching for something—anything—to say that would make this less painful. But there was nothing. No words could make this easier.

So she simply nodded.

Then, without another word, she turned and walked out the door.

Clarke stepped into Anya’s apartment, her breath shaky, her entire body tense as if she were holding herself together by sheer force of will. But the moment the door clicked shut behind her, the weight of everything came crashing down all at once.

She barely had time to register that Raven was the only one home before the tears welled up again, burning hot behind her eyes.

Raven, who had been lounging on the couch with her phone, immediately straightened when she saw Clarke’s face.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

Clarke opened her mouth, tried to form words, but her throat tightened painfully.

Instead, she exhaled a shaky breath and forced out the words, barely above a whisper—

“We broke up.”

Raven was off the couch in a second, crossing the room towards Clarke.

Clarke sucked in a breath, trying to keep herself together, but it was no use. The dam broke.

A sob escaped her lips, and before she could even process it, Raven’s arms were around her, pulling her into a firm, grounding embrace.

Clarke clung to her like a lifeline, her fingers gripping the back of Raven’s shirt as she cried into her shoulder.

Raven didn’t say anything at first. She just held her.

And for the first time that day, Clarke let herself fall apart.

Lexa stood center stage, her guitar in hand, the sharp lights blinding her as she prepared to sing. The stage pulsed with energy from the crowd, their cheers and screams echoing in her ears. She couldn’t see their faces, but the excitement was palpable in the air.

With a deep breath, Lexa started, her voice cutting through the buzz:

“Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts
Flashbacks waking me up
I get drunk, but it's not enough
'Cause the morning comes and you're not my baby”

She focused, her fingers gliding over the strings with precision, pouring her heart into each note. It was raw, real—the way she needed it to be. The performance was everything she’d been working for. Her debut as an artist, and she wasn’t about to let this moment slip by.

“I look through the windows of this love
Even though we boarded them up
Chandelier's still flickering here
'Cause I can't pretend it's ok when it's not
It's death by a thousand cuts”

Her gaze shifted across the stage, past the blinding lights to the shadows beyond. She could feel the audience’s energy. This was her first real music performance. She didn’t want to mess it up, didn’t want to let them down. Not now.

“My heart, my hips, my body, my love
Trying to find a part of me that you didn't touch
Gave up on me like I was a bad drug
Now I'm searching for signs in a haunted club”

The guitar’s strings hummed as she finished the last line, allowing the lingering notes to fill the air. The crowd exploded in applause, their cheers thunderous. Lexa’s heart raced, but she couldn’t suppress the thrill of finally being seen for more than just the starlet everyone expected her to be. This was her own moment, her own music.

As the applause rang in her ears, the talk show host’s voice cut through the noise:

“Alexandra Woods, ladies and gentlemen!”

She walked off the stage, her legs slightly shaky from adrenaline, and made her way to the chair awaiting her for the interview. The host clapped enthusiastically as she sat, settling herself into the spotlight once again.

The host leaned forward, eyes twinkling with excitement. Alexandra! The biggest surprise of the year. Hollywood's brightest star comes out...” He paused, catching her nervous glance. His smile widened, oblivious to the way her anxiety flared. “…as a musician. This one caught us all off guard.”

Lexa’s smile faltered, but she quickly recovered, laughing softly. “Yeah, I’ve kept this one close to the chest.”

He continued, clearly unaware of the discomfort building in her. “But I have to ask, Alexandra… Is every song about Bjorn? I mean, we all remember that night at the bar, when he broke your heart. And then there was that... moment, where you kissed that woman.”

Lexa’s stomach twisted as he casually mentioned Costia. She forced a smile but felt the panic building. She was trying to keep it together, but everything she’d been hiding was just under the surface.

“I was pretty drunk that night. And, honestly, I take full responsibility for that.” She paused, hoping her voice stayed steady. “But no… Most of the songs are inspired by past relationships. Bjorn, however... he’s left a mark, of course.”

The host raised an eyebrow, leaning forward in curiosity. “Oh, come on—could you tell us which songs are about him?”

Lexa chuckled nervously, glancing away. “That’s something I’d like to keep to myself for now.” She laughed along with him, trying to make it sound like a joke, but inside, her heart was racing.

As the interview progressed, Lexa struggled to hold on to the confident facade. It wasn’t about the music anymore. It was about the mess of emotions she had tangled up, things she wasn’t ready to face. The crowd may have loved her performance, her honesty, but she knew, deep down, she was still hiding herself.

Lexa sat across from Anya in her office, her body slouched slightly, the weight of her thoughts heavy in the air. The office was neatly organized, but Lexa couldn’t focus on the surroundings—the piles of scripts, calendars, and lists of events seemed insignificant compared to the turmoil inside her. They had just gone over her busy schedule: performances, press appearances, and meetings. Her latest film, which had taken up so much of her time, was finally about to premiere, and that meant an avalanche of press work. On top of all that, the question of what came next—her next film project—loomed large.

“Your performance went really well, and the interview afterward went fine too,” Anya said, trying to offer a sliver of reassurance. She sat with an air of practiced professionalism, though her eyes softened when they met Lexa’s.

Lexa didn’t share the same optimism. She sighed deeply, her eyes downcast, her fingers tracing the edge of the desk. “Yeah, maybe. But I’m just so... tired of lying all the time. It’s exhausting,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper, yet laced with frustration. The words spilled out like a dam breaking.

Anya nodded, her expression empathetic, as if she understood the weight of it all too well. "I get that," she said softly, her voice a quiet mirror to Lexa’s own emotions. "But... do you still want to come out? To live as yourself, out in the open?"

The question hung in the air like a delicate thread, and Lexa didn’t immediately respond. Her gaze drifted to the window, as if looking for an answer from the outside world, but there was only silence. Finally, she spoke, the words hesitant, fragile. “I don’t know if I can… I mean, I’m still not sure I’m ready. But I also don’t know if I can keep living this way, pretending… it’s just too much.”

Lexa’s shoulders tensed, her whole body fighting against the overwhelming pressure of the facade she had built over the years. The mask she wore had started to feel like a second skin, suffocating and unbearable.

Anya watched her carefully, knowing that the decision wasn’t easy. She leaned back slightly, folding her arms as she recalled the past. “I remember when you came out to me. You told me you’d never do it. You didn’t want to be out, not with your career,” Anya said, her tone thoughtful. She was reminding Lexa of a time when she had been so certain about her choices, even though deep down, Anya knew those certainties had always been filled with fear.

Lexa’s chest tightened at the memory. She had been so scared, so certain that being true to herself would cost her everything—her career, her family, her identity in the public eye. “I know,” she whispered, nodding slowly. “I thought it would destroy everything. Being gay and a big actress... it just felt like they couldn’t go together. But... I think a lot of it was my mom’s voice in my head. She always told me I was wrong, that I wasn’t enough. I’ve carried that fear for so long... it feels like it’s been part of me for years, and now, I can’t escape it.”

Anya’s eyes softened as she watched Lexa’s struggle. She didn’t say anything for a moment, just let the silence linger, allowing Lexa to process. Finally, Anya spoke again, her voice gentle but firm. “It’s hard. But maybe now is the time to confront that fear. You don’t have to do it all at once, Alex. You don’t have to make any big declarations. It’s okay to take it one step at a time.”

Lexa let out a shaky breath, her fingers absently playing with a pen on the desk, trying to distract herself from the storm raging in her chest. “But how do I even start?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly. “I don’t know where to begin.”

Anya’s gaze never wavered as she searched for a solution. She thought for a moment before pulling a script from the pile on her desk. “Maybe you can start here,” she said, sliding it across the table toward Lexa. “Play a role where you don’t have to hide. Where you can express a part of yourself. This is a small independent film, but it’s got a lot of potential. It’s about two women falling in love. It’s an amazing script.”

Lexa picked up the script, her fingers trembling as she flipped through the pages. The words danced before her eyes, but they felt like an enigma, just out of reach. She looked up at Anya, uncertain. “It’s a small project. What if it’s not enough?”

Anya gave a slight shrug, her expression one of understanding. “If you’re thinking about coming out, then I think this is a great first step. You can see how your fans react. You don’t have to make a big announcement. Just play the role, and let things unfold naturally.”

Lexa stared down at the pages, her heart pounding in her chest. She had spent so much time running from herself, from the truth, and here, in the quiet of Anya’s office, it felt like she was standing at a precipice. Was she ready to take that step? The idea of living her truth terrified her, but the thought of continuing to hide, to pretend, made her soul ache.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, and then met Anya’s gaze. “You think it’s a good idea?” Her voice was quieter now, vulnerable, as if she were seeking permission, or maybe just affirmation.

Anya’s eyes softened, filled with compassion. “If you’re ready to think about it, then yes. I think it’s a great idea. It’s not about rushing, Alex. It’s about taking small steps, testing the waters. And this project—it gives you a chance to be authentic without all the pressure.”

Lexa closed the script slowly, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she had a choice. Maybe this wasn’t the grand declaration she had imagined, but it was something—something real, something she could control. “Alright,” she said, her voice steady now, determination creeping into her words. “Let’s see where this goes.”

Anya smiled, a look of quiet pride on her face. “One step at a time. That’s all we can do.”

Lexa sat in the back of the car, her thoughts swirling in a haze of exhaustion. It had been a long day—full of decisions, expectations, and the heavy weight of the life she had been leading. The city passed by in a blur as the car made its way through the familiar streets, but Lexa wasn’t really seeing any of it. Her mind was still tangled up in the conversation with Anya, in the fear and uncertainty that seemed to be growing the more she thought about coming out. The idea of living her truth felt impossible, and yet, every day she spent hiding it felt suffocating.

As the car neared the gates of her property, Lexa's thoughts were interrupted by a familiar sight. Roan was standing outside the gate, arguing with one of the security guards. The words were muffled, but the tension in the air was clear. Lexa’s stomach clenched at the sight of him, and despite everything she was feeling, she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of concern.

"Stop the car," Lexa said, her voice firm despite the swirling emotions within her. The driver obeyed, and as the car came to a halt, Lexa rolled down the window, her eyes narrowing slightly as she observed the scene before her.

She raised an eyebrow, her voice cool as she addressed Roan, "What’s going on?"

Roan shot her a frustrated look, his jaw clenched tightly. "Your guard won’t let me in," he replied, his tone tight with irritation.

Lexa couldn't help but smirk slightly, her gaze flicking to the security guard standing firmly beside the gate. "That’s kind of the point of having security," she said.

Roan seemed to ignore the bite in her tone, his expression softening as he looked at her. "I just want to talk to you, Alexandra... Alex," he said, the use of her nickname sending a pang through Lexa’s chest. There was something raw and vulnerable in his voice, something that caught her off guard.

For a moment, Lexa hesitated, her eyes flickering away from him as her mind raced. She hadn’t expected to see him again so soon—after everything that had happened. But here he was, standing outside her gate, asking for a chance.

"I’m not sure that’s a good idea," Lexa said, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant. The words felt heavier than she wanted them to, a mix of caution and unresolved emotions.

Roan’s face softened, his eyes pleading with her. "Please, just give me one last chance," he said, his voice low and earnest. Lexa could see the sincerity in his eyes, and it made her heart tighten in her chest. She wanted to say no—wanted to push him away and not deal with whatever this was. But something in his voice, something in the way he said her name, made it impossible to just shut him out.

Lexa rolled her eyes, frustrated with herself more than anything, but she couldn’t ignore the ache that was gnawing at her. With a deep sigh, she turned to the guard. "Let him in," she said, her voice flat, giving no room for argument.

The guard gave her a look of surprise but nodded and moved to open the gate. Roan’s face lit up, a mix of relief and gratitude washing over him. He mouthed a silent thank you to Lexa as the gate began to open, and she watched him step forward, his footsteps slow but determined.

As the car pulled away and Roan made his way towards the house, Lexa leaned back in her seat, a deep breath escaping her lips.

Lexa and Roan sat in silence in the living room, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. She could feel the tension in the air, the wounds reopening as they sat there together. Finally, Roan broke the silence, his voice low and filled with an underlying uncertainty.

“I didn’t know what she was going to do. Otherwise, I would have never…” His words trailed off, his frustration palpable.

Lexa looked at him, her eyes dark and tired, but her voice steady. “You know how she is,” she said softly, almost as if speaking to herself as much as to him.

Roan nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I didn’t know... I didn’t know that... Are you... gay?” The question hung in the air, awkward and raw. His voice cracked slightly, as though the words were a foreign language he hadn’t meant to speak.

Lexa’s gaze met his, a long pause settling between them. She had never been good at lying to Roan, but this felt different. This was something bigger, something that could change everything. With a deep breath, she finally spoke. “Yes. I’m gay.” The words left her lips without hesitation, but the weight of them settled heavily in the room, almost as if she had just confessed something she had kept hidden for too long.

Roan’s face softened, his brow furrowing in confusion. “I didn’t know that,” he said, the words coming out quieter now, almost like a question, but there was no judgment in his voice—only surprise.

Lexa nodded slowly. “Most people don’t,” she replied, the bitterness in her tone more out of habit than anger. She had grown so used to hiding, to pretending. It was a part of her that had never been fully seen, even by those closest to her.

Roan’s voice broke the silence again. “What about Bjorn? Wasn’t he—?” His words faltered as he looked at her.

“PR relationship,” Lexa answered flatly, her gaze unwavering.

Roan’s lips pressed together in a tight line, as if processing everything. “And the other men... before?” His voice was quieter now, almost hesitant.

“PR relationships,” Lexa repeated, though this time, there was a small sigh that escaped her, the weight of the truth still settling on her chest.

Roan sat back, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Damn... I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, his voice soft with sympathy. “Sounds like a lot to carry.” He looked at her, the understanding in his eyes mixed with an unspoken sense of regret. The years of their shared past, of the things unsaid, seemed to weigh on him now more than ever.

“Is it because of mom... that you hide it?” Roan asked, his voice suddenly more serious. Lexa felt the sting of his question, the rawness of it hitting too close to home.

“Partly... yeah,” Lexa replied, her voice low, almost apologetic. It was the truth, but even saying it out loud made her feel small, as if she were giving in to something that had controlled her life for far too long.

Roan looked at her, his gaze intense. “And mom... she paid your girlfriend to disappear?” He didn’t phrase it like a quiet realization.

“I don’t know what we were yet, but yeah... she did,” Lexa responded, her voice barely above a whisper.

Roan let out a deep breath, his expression pained. “When I was younger... I had a girlfriend, Alison. Do you remember her?” he asked, his voice distant now.

Lexa nodded slowly. “I remember.”

Roan’s voice grew quieter. “We were serious. But Mom didn’t like her. It wasn’t planned at all, but Alison got pregnant... and Mom... she paid her off to get rid of the baby. To disappear.” Roan’s voice faltered at the end, and Lexa could hear the regret in his words.

“I didn’t know that,” Lexa said softly, her heart aching for him. She had known so little about Roan’s life, the pain he had carried silently for so long.

Roan shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “Not many people do,” he said, his tone flat. It was clear that the weight of their mother’s actions had shaped him in ways he had never fully understood.

Roan’s gaze softened, his voice gentle as he asked, “Has she done it to you before?”

Lexa looked at him, her face resigned. “Yeah... once before, but it was a long time ago.”

Roan nodded slowly, understanding more than she knew. “I get it,” he said quietly. “I really do.”

Roan sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he leaned back. “I think... I think I’m done with her,” he said, his voice firm but filled with exhaustion. “I don’t want to be part of her games anymore. The pain she brings... I don’t need that in my life.”

Lexa stared at him, surprised by the finality in his tone. She hadn’t expected him to say it so plainly. “I understand,” she replied softly. “That’s how I feel, too.”

There was a long silence between them, a heavy but mutual understanding passing through the air. In that moment, Lexa realized that, they were no longer the people they had once been. They had both been shaped by the same cruel hand, but now they had the chance to choose their own paths. The question was whether they would continue to let their pasts control them or finally take the step toward something else.

Chapter Text

Lexa sat alone in her dimly lit living room, curled up on the couch with her phone in hand. The glow of the screen illuminated her face as she scrolled through the flood of comments on her fan pages. She had avoided reading them at first, too afraid of what people might say, but Anya had assured her—again and again—that the overwhelming response was positive.

She hesitated for only a moment before finally allowing herself to look.

"WAIT… SHE SINGS??? AND IT’S THIS GOOD???"

"She just casually dropped a heartbreaking masterpiece while we were all minding our business???"

"I wasn’t heartbroken before, but I am now."

A small, breathless laugh escaped her lips. She hadn’t realized how much she needed this validation until she saw it. Every painful moment, every sleepless night spent writing and recording—none of it had been for nothing. Her pain, now woven into melody and lyrics, had somehow turned into something beautiful for others. It was a strange kind of comfort.

She continued scrolling, each comment pulling her deeper into the whirlwind of her unexpected music career.

"So you’re telling me she’s an A-list actress AND she casually dropped the best heartbreak album of the decade???"

"SOMEONE CHECK ON HER IMMEDIATELY."

"Her movies: ‘Feel-good Hollywood magic!’ Her album: ‘Welcome to the depths of despair.’"

Lexa let out a soft chuckle. The contrast between her carefully crafted public persona and the raw vulnerability of her music wasn’t lost on her. She had spent years playing roles, smiling for cameras, and pretending to be someone she wasn’t. And yet, the moment she had finally allowed herself to be real—just for a moment, just in her music—people had connected with it more than anything else she had ever done.

For the first time, reading comments didn’t feel like a risk. It didn’t feel like she was waiting for the inevitable backlash, the cruel words that would pick her apart. Because this—this was hers. No director, no studio, no publicist had shaped this. It belonged to her, and no one could take it away.

She kept scrolling.

"Oscar winner AND now potential Grammy winner??? She’s coming for EGOT status!"

"I thought she was happy… Is she okay? Who hurt her???"

"These lyrics feel way too personal… I need a deep dive analysis thread ASAP."

"This is giving ‘secret relationship that ended badly’ vibes and I NEED to know more."

Lexa froze. Her heart gave a small, uneasy lurch.

She knew she had been honest in her lyrics—brutally so. But had she been that transparent? She reread the comment, her fingers tightening around her phone.

She had written about love and loss, about heartbreak so deep it left scars. About longing, about the weight of things left unsaid. She hadn’t named names. She hadn’t given away details.

And yet…

They could tell.

Lexa exhaled slowly, staring at the screen as if it might hold answers she didn’t have. She wasn’t naïve—she knew how fans could be. If they truly started digging, if they put the pieces together, what would they find?

Would they find Clarke?

Would they find them?

Lexa locked her phone, pressing it against her chest as she stared blankly into the room.

She had thought she was ready for this. She had thought she was in control.

But now, she wasn’t so sure.

Lexa sat across from Anya in her office, her posture rigid, her hands loosely clasped in her lap. The desk between them was covered in neatly organized papers—her upcoming press events, promotional schedules, and invitations to industry parties. Anya was in the middle of discussing her calendar, flipping through dates, but Lexa barely heard a word.

Her mind was elsewhere.

She stared at the wooden grain of the desk, the swirling patterns blurring as thoughts ran through her head at full speed. The comment she had read last night still echoed in her mind.

"This is giving ‘secret relationship that ended badly’ vibes and I NEED to know more."

Before she even realized she was speaking, the words slipped from her lips.

"Do you think my fans could find out about Clarke?"

Anya stopped mid-sentence, caught off guard by the sudden question. Her brows furrowed slightly as she studied Lexa’s face.

"What?" she asked, as if needing to make sure she had heard correctly.

Lexa finally lifted her gaze, her expression unreadable. "Do you think they could put the pieces together? Find out it was her?"

Anya hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "I really don’t think so, Alex."

Lexa exhaled, nodding slightly, but the tension in her shoulders didn’t ease. "It was my idea to put my deepest feelings into my music. I knew what I was doing when I wrote those songs. But I don’t want to drag Clarke into this… I don’t want her caught in my mess again. She deserves better."

Anya leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms, watching her closely. "Lexa… she was always in it. You know that, right? It’s not like she was just some random fling."

Lexa swallowed, a flicker of guilt tightening in her chest. Of course she knew that.

But before she could say anything, Anya continued, her voice softer this time.

"I don’t think this is a secret," she said carefully. "Clarke and Niylah broke up."

Lexa’s head snapped up so fast it nearly gave her whiplash.

"What?"

Anya gave a small shrug, like it wasn’t that big of a deal, but Lexa could see the way she was watching her reaction closely.

"I don’t know why they broke up," Anya admitted. Lexa blinked, her mind racing to catch up. Clarke was single?

"Oh," she said, her voice quiet. "Okay… okay."

She nodded, but her thoughts were anything but settled.

Lexa stepped out of Anya’s office building, the warm sunlight hitting her face as she made her way toward her car. Her sunglasses rested low on her nose, and the gentle hum of the city blended with the noise of her own thoughts. The conversation with Anya still lingered in her mind.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she almost didn’t notice the young woman approaching her with quick, determined steps. It wasn’t until Gustus, her bodyguard, suddenly stepped in front of her, blocking the girl’s path, that she realized something was happening.

Lexa stopped and took a better look at the girl—she couldn’t be more than 16 or 17, with wide, awe-filled eyes and a rainbow bracelet around her wrist.

"Oh my god. It’s really you. Alexandra Woods!"

The teenager’s voice trembled with excitement, and Lexa couldn’t help but smile. She lifted a hand and gave Gustus a small signal, letting him know it was okay—that this fan was allowed to approach her. Gustus hesitated for a moment but then took a few steps back, still watchful.

"I’m such a big fan," the girl continued, fumbling anxiously in her bag until she found a crumpled piece of paper and a pen. "It’s crazy seeing you in real life. Can I get an autograph?"

Lexa nodded, took the pen, and quickly signed her name before handing it back with a small smile.

"I saw on IMDb that you’re going to be in a new movie… a queer movie. Is that true?"

Lexa froze—just for a fraction of a second.

Her eyes flickered over the young woman’s face. She was so young, so full of hope, carrying her identity openly, proudly displayed on her wrist like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Lexa nodded slowly. "Yeah, that’s true. We haven’t started filming yet, but I’m excited."

The girl’s face lit up. "I’m really looking forward to it. It means a lot to people like me to see ourselves represented in films. And when big stars like you are willing to support us publicly… it really makes a difference. So I just wanted to say thank you."

Lexa felt something tighten in her chest.

She knew what she should say—something safe, something diplomatic. Something vague and neutral. She could practically hear Anya’s voice in her head: Don’t say anything that could start rumors.

But this… this felt different.

As if pulled by something deep inside her, Lexa took a small step closer to the girl. She lowered her voice as if she was about to share a secret.

"You don’t have to thank me," she said softly. "I’m not nearly as brave as you."

The teenager blinked, confused but curious.

Lexa hesitated for only a second before she let the words slip into the sunlit afternoon.

"Can you keep a secret?"

The girl nodded eagerly, her breath catching.

Lexa took a deep breath and whispered, "I hope this movie gives me the confidence to tell the world that I’m like you."

The girl’s eyes widened, her lips parting, but no words came out.

Lexa smiled gently, stepping back as if she had just released a weight from her chest. "I hope you have a really great day," she said warmly. "And I hope you’ll like my movie."

Then she turned and walked toward her car, her heart pounding, adrenaline rushing through her veins.

She slid into the back seat, and as the door shut behind her, hiding her behind the tinted windows, she let out a shaky breath.

She couldn’t believe she had just said that.

Lexa sat in the car on her way home, her thoughts a tangled mess of emotions. The encounter with the fan lingered in her mind, the girl’s wide, hopeful eyes replaying over and over again. I hope this movie gives me the confidence to tell the world that I’m like you.

The words had come out so easily.

Maybe too easily.

But instead of panic, instead of the usual suffocating fear that followed moments like this, Lexa felt something else.

Something that almost felt like courage.

She exhaled sharply and leaned forward in her seat, gripping the headrest in front of her.

"Can you drive past Anya’s private home?" she asked the driver.

The man glanced at her in the rearview mirror, surprised, but nodded. "Of course, Miss Woods."

Lexa sat back, her fingers tapping restlessly against her thigh as the car changed direction. She had no idea what she was going to do, no plan, no rehearsed speech—just the undeniable feeling that she needed to see Clarke.

Lexa took the stairs to Anya’s apartment two steps at a time, her heart pounding as fast as her feet. Gustus struggled to keep up, calling after her, but she didn’t slow down. She barely even registered her own urgency—only the singular thought driving her forward.

She needed to see Clarke.

She knocked—no, banged—on the door, and when it swung open, Raven stood on the other side, looking completely baffled.

“Lexa?” Raven said, frowning.

Lexa barely paused. “Is Clarke here?” She tried to look past Raven into the apartment.

Raven hesitated for a split second before answering. “Clarke? She… she just left. She flew back to New York.”

Lexa’s breath caught. “What?”

Raven could see the disbelief in Lexa’s eyes, the way she was already questioning the truth of it. With a sigh, Raven stepped aside. “Come see for yourself. She’s gone.”

Lexa pushed past her, striding through the apartment, searching for something—anything—that would prove Raven wrong. She checked the guest room, but Clarke’s things were gone.

She really had left.

Lexa felt something inside her sink. She turned on her heel and walked out without another word, her movements stiff, her chest tight.

“Lexa, wait!” Raven called after her, but Lexa didn’t stop.

She couldn’t.

Lexa sat in the car, her hands clenched into fists in her lap. Her heart was pounding, her mind racing with everything that had just happened. Clarke was gone. She had been so sure she would find her still at Anya’s, that there would be time to figure things out—to finally say something. But Clarke had already left.

The city lights blurred past her window as the car moved steadily toward home, but Lexa barely saw them. Her thoughts were too loud, drowning out everything else. Was she too late? Would Clarke even want to see her? Would she even listen?

She exhaled sharply, frustration boiling under her skin. No. She couldn't just let this happen. Not again.

She straightened in her seat, determination hardening her features. Without hesitation, she leaned forward, her voice steady but urgent.

"Take me to the airport."

The driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror, momentarily caught off guard.

"Miss Woods—?"

"And call ahead," Lexa interrupted, her voice leaving no room for argument. "Tell them to get my plane ready."

There was a beat of silence, the only sound the hum of the car engine and the distant noise of the city outside. Then, with a short nod, the driver changed course.

Lexa leaned back into her seat, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her jeans. She stared out at the passing streets, but she wasn't really seeing them.

Clarke was in New York.

And Lexa was going after her.

Lexa drummed her fingers anxiously against her knee as the plane finally taxied to the gate. The flight had felt unbearably long, and she had spent most of it alternating between staring out into the darkness beyond the window and gripping her phone, debating whether she should text Clarke—or if it was better to say nothing at all.

Halfway through the flight, Anya had called. At first, she had been irritated, scolding Lexa for her impulsiveness, but in the end, she had given in and sent her Clarke’s mother’s address. That was all Lexa needed.

The moment she stepped off the plane, she moved quickly through the terminal, her pulse pounding in her ears. She had no luggage, no real plan—just an urgency burning in her chest, propelling her forward. A car was already waiting for her, and Gustus, who had traveled with her, ensured everything was in order.

As the car pulled away from the airport and merged into the glowing streets of New York, Lexa’s stomach twisted with nerves. The city lights blurred through the rain-speckled windows, a mix of neon reflections shimmering against the wet pavement. She exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself, but the weight of uncertainty pressed down on her.

What if Clarke didn’t want to see her? What if she wasn’t even there?

Lexa shook her head, pushing away the doubt. She had come this far. She wasn’t going to turn back now.

She leaned forward slightly in her seat, her gaze locked on the road ahead.

She was almost there.

Lexa stood in front of the grand entrance of an undeniably impressive house—Clarke’s mother’s house. She hesitated only for a moment before knocking, the sound of her knuckles against the wood feeling both too loud and not loud enough.

The door swung open, revealing a woman who carried herself with quiet authority. Her sharp gaze swept over Lexa before she spoke. "What can I do for you?"

Lexa swallowed, suddenly uncertain. "Is Clarke here?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Who’s asking?" Abby responded, her tone wary.

"Alexandra," Lexa answered, hesitating briefly before adding, "Alexandra Woods." She wasn’t sure how much Clarke’s mother knew—if she knew anything at all.

Abby studied her carefully, her expression unreadable. Then, after a moment, she asked, "Are you her? The woman Clarke…"

Lexa held Abby’s gaze and gave a slow nod. "Yes. I… I’d really like to talk to her."

Abby continued to scrutinize her, as if weighing something in her mind. Lexa didn’t know whether it was judgment or curiosity, but the silence stretched long enough to make her shift uneasily.

"She’s not here," Abby finally said.

Lexa’s heart sank, and she took a small, involuntary step back. Disappointment settled in her chest like a heavy weight. Maybe she had been foolish to think she could just show up like this.

"She’s at her apartment, packing," Abby continued. "She’s selling the place. But she should be back later."

Lexa blinked, processing the words. There was still a chance to see her.

"You can wait here if you want," Abby said, stepping aside and opening the door a little wider.

Lexa hesitated for just a second before nodding. Then, with a deep breath, she stepped inside.

"We have coffee and soda in the kitchen, and a comfy couch in the living room. Make yourself at home," Abby called out as she disappeared down a hallway, likely heading to her office. "I need to get some work done, but if you need anything, just holler."

Lexa took a moment to absorb her surroundings, feeling both welcome and out of place at the same time. She wandered into the kitchen, letting the soft hum of the house settle around her. The space was warm, familiar, and oddly comforting, though she couldn’t shake the anxiety building up inside.

Opening the fridge, Lexa grabbed a soda and popped it open, the familiar fizz somehow grounding her. She took a sip, leaning against the counter for a moment, allowing the silence to fill the space. It was strange, being here in Clarke’s home. She could almost feel Clarke’s presence in every corner, like the walls were holding onto her memory.

After a moment, Lexa left the kitchen and made her way into the living room. The walls were adorned with framed photographs—many of Clarke as a child. Lexa paused at one of them, a photo of Clarke grinning with her arms wrapped around an older woman, clearly her mother. The way the two of them were so at ease, so happy in that moment, made Lexa's heart ache.

She took a deep breath and settled onto the couch, her fingers tracing the edges of the cushion. Her mind wandered as she waited.

Hours passed, but it felt like Lexa had been sitting in that quiet room for days. The air was still, and the sound of her own breathing seemed too loud in the silence. She was lost in her thoughts, her mind swirling with the weight of what she was about to say. Would it even matter? Would Clarke believe her? Could she fix what she had broken?

Then, out of nowhere, the front door creaked open. Lexa’s heart jumped in her chest, her breath catching as she looked up. The sudden sound of the door closing sent a jolt of surprise through her, snapping her from her haze. She blinked, trying to focus, and there, standing in the doorway, was Clarke.

Clarke was holding several bags, her face a little flushed from the weight of them. But when her eyes met Lexa’s, she froze, the bags dangling from her hands. The world seemed to stop, and in that moment, Lexa’s pulse quickened, her palms suddenly clammy. She stood, the couch creaking as she did, and took a step toward her.

Clarke didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. The silence stretched between them, thick with everything left unsaid.

“I—” Lexa’s voice trembled, barely above a whisper. She cleared her throat, trying to find some sense of control. “I heard you were traveling to New York, and I—I couldn’t...”

Clarke remained still, her gaze steady, almost searching, as if she was waiting for Lexa to finish, to say the thing that had been left unsaid for so long.

Lexa’s chest tightened. She could feel her words slip out like stones tumbling down a hill, each one heavier than the last. “Clarke... I don’t want to lose you. Not again.” Her breath hitched, the confession nearly choking her. She tried to keep herself composed, but the words burned as they left her lips. “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

She looked up, but Clarke didn’t respond. The silence between them was thick. It was like the quiet before a storm, pregnant with everything neither of them had dared to say before.

The seconds stretched long, suffocating, and for a moment, Lexa thought Clarke might walk away again. Maybe she didn’t want to hear it, maybe it was too late.

But then, without warning, Clarke took a step forward. And another.

Lexa’s heart skipped, and before she could brace herself, Clarke closed the distance between them, her hands reaching up to touch Lexa’s face, her lips crashing against hers. The kiss was soft at first—tentative, almost fragile. Like Clarke was unsure if she was making the right choice, or if this was just some dream Lexa had been living in for too long.

But then, Lexa’s hands found their way to Clarke’s back, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss as everything they’d both been holding back came to the surface. The world outside melted away. There were no doubts, no fears. There was just the warmth of Clarke’s lips, the soft pressure of her body against Lexa’s, and the certainty that this was where they were meant to be.

Lexa’s chest tightened, but this time, it wasn’t from fear. It was from relief—the kind that settles deep in your bones when you finally realize that what you’ve been longing for is finally within reach. Her heart beat fast, each thrum echoing in her ears, a rhythm that was as familiar as it was new.

Clarke’s hands slid up to Lexa’s hair, tangling in the strands, pulling her even closer as if there were no space left between them that needed to be filled. Lexa responded, her breath shaky, her hands tracing the curves of Clarke’s body, memorizing the feeling of her warmth, her softness.

The kiss wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t desperate—it was an understanding, a promise, a recognition of everything they had been through, and everything they were ready to face together now. For the first time in what felt like forever, Lexa didn’t feel like she was fighting against herself.

When they finally pulled away, both of them breathless, eyes wide and searching for the truth in each other’s gaze, Lexa couldn’t help but smile. Clarke’s face softened in return, her lips slightly parted, as if she was still catching her breath from the kiss.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Clarke whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Lexa closed her eyes for a moment, letting the words sink in, and when she opened them again, everything was clearer. Clarke was here. They were here. Together. And that was all that mattered.

Lexa walked down the red carpet in a thigh-high red dress. Elegant and stylish. It was a few months later, and it was the Grammys. Lexa had been nominated for Song of the Year.

"Look this way, Alexandra!" the paparazzi shouted, and Lexa paused, letting them take their photos.

The flashlights of the cameras hit her face like a storm of light, but her smile remained effortless, just like always. She was used to the spotlight, but tonight there was something different about it. Maybe it was the nomination—Song of the Year. An acknowledgment for something that had been born from pain and healing. Maybe.

The paparazzi yelled her name, and she turned slightly to face them, letting them get their shots. She knew how much they loved these moments when she was at the center of attention. They had always been a part of her life, and she had learned to play their game. But tonight, something felt different. She wasn’t just the famous actress who kept her personal life at arm’s length. Tonight, in the midst of the flashing lights, she was just Alex.

She felt excitement building inside as she entered the hall, where Anya and Clarke were already waiting at her table. She saw Anya smiling encouragingly at her. The pride in Anya’s gaze was unmistakable, and Lexa knew that Anya had been there through it all. But it wasn’t just Anya waiting. Clarke was sitting at the table, and when their eyes met, Lexa felt warmth spread throughout her body. Clarke wasn’t just present as her own person; she was her rock, her support, and in this world where everything could feel so fleeting, it was Clarke who gave her the grounding she needed.

When Lexa sat down at the table, she felt a calm moment of connection. Anya gave her a quick nod. Tonight wasn’t just a celebration of her music. It was a testament to something much more important: a testament to what she had found within herself, in her relationship with Clarke.

"I'm so proud of you," Clarke said quietly, and Lexa could hear the sincerity in her voice. Those words were more precious than any award or trophy.

Lexa smiled back, her eyes softening.

"Thank you," Lexa whispered, feeling warmth spreading inside her. "It means everything."

They sat together, as if the world around them could stop, and it would still be enough. Because tonight, with everything at stake, their moment—here and now—was what mattered most.

The evening stretched on, the air charged with excitement and anticipation, until the moment finally came. The spotlight shifted, and a famous musician stepped up to the stage, the envelope in hand, filled with the name of the most coveted award of the night—Song of the Year. Lexa's heart pounded in her chest as the musician’s voice echoed through the room.

“And the Grammy goes to… Dancing with Our Hands Tied. Alexandra Woods!”

The audience erupted. The crowd jumped to their feet, clapping, shouting, and cheering. Lexa was frozen in her seat, eyes wide, utterly overwhelmed. The song that had come from the deepest part of her heart—the song that spoke of her pain, her fears, her love—had made it this far. Lexa’s world spun in that moment. Dancing with Our Hands Tied began playing over the speakers, and the lyrics, which once felt like a private cry, now filled the room.

“I, I loved you in spite of
Deep fears that the world would divide us
So, baby, can we dance
Oh, through an avalanche?”

Lexa felt her chest tighten as the words swirled around her. She had written this for Clarke, for the love they had shared, for everything they’d almost lost. And now, in front of thousands of people, it felt like a love letter to the world.

Her legs trembled, and without thinking, she stood and instinctively rushed to Clarke. She threw her arms around her, squeezing her tightly. She could hear the collective intake of breath from the crowd, the cameras captured the raw moment. Every lens, every camera, was trained on them—their faces, their connection. The weight of it hit Lexa all at once. She didn’t know what she was doing, but it felt like everything she’d kept hidden was finally being exposed.

The walk to the stage felt surreal. Her legs felt like they were made of jelly, but she couldn’t stop now. She had to get there. She had to take this moment for herself—for them. Her hands were shaking as she took the Grammy in her grasp, and she stared down at it for a moment, as though not quite believing she was holding it.

The room fell into a hush, every eye on her.

“Thank you,” Lexa started, her voice trembling, the words catching in her throat. It took a moment to steady herself before continuing. “I… I just want to say thank you so much for this incredible honor. This… this means more than anything to me. To be recognized for something that’s so deeply personal. I’ve spent so much of my life hiding, keeping parts of myself locked away. But tonight, tonight, I’m not hiding anymore.”

Her gaze locked with Clarke’s in the audience, and Lexa’s chest tightened. She could feel the love and pride radiating from Clarke, and it gave her the strength to keep going.

“I especially want to thank my manager, Anya, for always believing in me,” Lexa continued, swallowing against the emotions threatening to choke her. “And… Clarke.” She paused, the words coming out softly but with immense weight. “Clarke Griffin… you mean everything to me. You’ve been my rock, my inspiration, and the reason I’ve been able to be this brave.”

Lexa’s heart hammered in her chest as she let the silence hang in the air for a moment, before she said the words she’d been holding back for so long.

“I haven’t always been brave. I’ve hidden from the world. I’ve hidden from all of you. And I’ve hidden from myself. But tonight, I stop running. This song, this album—they’re the truth. And I’m finally ready. So, I want to dedicate this award, and this album, to my girlfriend… Clarke. Thank you.”

The gasps that rippled through the crowd felt like a physical blow. She could hear the murmurs, the whispers that traveled like wildfire through the room, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Clarke, who was standing, stunned, her hands shaking as she clutched them in front of her.

Lexa walked off the stage, her heart racing as she made her way back to Clarke. The entire room was watching, the cameras capturing every second of their interaction. But in that moment, nothing else mattered.

Clarke stood frozen, her eyes wide, and Lexa’s pulse spiked. She reached Clarke’s side, her hand trembling as she cupped Clarke’s face. And then, without hesitation, she kissed her. Softly at first, as if testing the moment, but then it deepened, the kiss speaking volumes that no words could express. The room erupted into applause, but it felt distant, muffled, as though time had slowed around them.

When they pulled away, Clarke was breathless, her cheeks flushed, her eyes wide with disbelief, but full of love. Lexa smiled softly, her heart still racing, her mind still spinning.

They returned to their seats, hands intertwined under the table. The applause continued, but the moment felt suspended in time. The whispers in the room were loud, but Lexa didn’t care. She had said what needed to be said. She had claimed her truth.

Anya leaned in close, her voice barely audible as she whispered with a wry smile, “Maybe we should’ve talked about that beforehand.”

Lexa laughed softly, the sound full of nervous energy. “Maybe… but it felt right. It felt like it was finally time.”

Clarke squeezed her hand, her voice just as soft. “I’m proud of you, Lexa. So proud.”

Lexa squeezed her hand back, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’m proud of us.”

In that moment, everything that had led to this—every struggle, every fear, every doubt—disappeared. Lexa had just stepped into the light, and for the first time, she felt truly seen, truly free. And Clarke was right there beside her, their love finally out in the open, no longer a secret, no longer hidden.

As the night carried on, the cameras continued to capture their every move, but Lexa knew that, for the first time in her life, she didn’t have to hide anymore.