Chapter 4: The Truth in the Mirror

*What’s going on? Why did the female lead and the supporting female character meet? Will there still be any spicy scenes tonight?*

*Of course! With the supporting female character’s personality, she’s bound to stir up trouble.*

*Didn’t you see the jealousy in her eyes when she saw the female lead?*

I touched my face. Was it really that obvious?

Had everyone noticed, or was it just the imaginary audience in my mind, always ready to pounce on my every insecurity? To check, I ran to the restroom.

The hallway was lined with sticky tiles and the faint hum of the air conditioning. The me in the mirror looked no different from usual, just a bit tired. My eyeliner had smudged, and my cheeks were still flushed. Funny how easy it is to see what you expect, whether it’s there or not.

I splashed cold water on my face, relishing the shock, and was about to leave when Natalie Summers suddenly appeared.

She got straight to the point: “You and Jason aren’t right for each other. If you really care about him, you shouldn’t hold him back like this.”

Her voice was low, steady, with just a hint of challenge—like a lawyer making her opening statement. I asked coldly, “What do you mean?”

“You know about Jason’s project in Chicago, right? But because of you, he’s been reluctant to leave. Also, a few days ago, I went with him to meet a client. Even though he put on ointment, you could still see the handprints on his face. Do you know that what you did could ruin all his years of hard work? If you really love him, let him go. If you want money or anything else, we can talk about it.”

My fists clenched so hard my knuckles ached. Her words stung. The idea that love could be reduced to an exit negotiation made my stomach turn.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.

“Did Jason ask you to say this?”

My voice wobbled, but I held her gaze. I do know that Jason recently landed a big project with considerable profits.

Anything more, I’m not sure.

As for those two slaps, I still can’t figure out why I was so impulsive.

That day was my birthday. I made dinner and waited from seven to eleven at night for Jason to come home.

The candles burned down to stubs, and the lasagna grew cold. We ended up arguing.

Jason told me not to wait for him anymore.

He said it like he was sparing me, but it felt like a door slamming shut. In a fit of anger, I couldn’t hold back and slapped him.

That was the first time in my life I’d ever slapped someone.

My hand stung for hours afterward, but what hurt more was the way he looked at me—like I was a stranger. I wasn’t mad at him for coming home late, or for forgetting my birthday.

I just thought his attitude was wrong.

The indifference in his voice, the distance in his eyes. Thinking back now, he wasn’t really at fault.

I was the one who forced it.

I always put too much importance on love, and neglected myself.

I realized, standing there in that bar bathroom with a stranger’s words ringing in my ears, that maybe it wasn’t about Jason or Natalie or the imaginary audience at all. Maybe it was about figuring out how to want things for myself, without needing someone else to hand them to me. For the first time, I wondered what my life might look like if I stopped waiting for someone else’s script and started writing my own.