The Co-Star

(FLASHBACK)

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POV: Seraphina

Timeline: 2.5 Years Before Present

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The first day of filming was chaos.

I stood in the corner of the soundstage, watching the crew rush around like ants on a mission. Lights were being adjusted. Cameras were being calibrated. Someone was yelling about craft services.

And I was terrified.

I'd done small roles before. Independent films. Music videos. Things that barely paid the bills but kept me visible. But Midnight Shadows was different. This was a real production. A real budget. A real chance to prove myself.

And I was terrified that I'd fail.

"You look like you're about to throw up."

I spun around. Xander Vance was standing behind me, a cup of coffee in each hand. His smile was easy, warm, completely disarming.

"I don't throw up," I said. "I just... internally combust."

He laughed. It was a good laugh—genuine, unselfconscious. "Here." He handed me one of the cups. "Coffee. The secret weapon of actors everywhere."

I took it. My fingers brushed his. The contact was brief, but it sent a small jolt through me.

"Thanks," I managed.

"First day jitters?" He leaned against the wall beside me. "I remember my first big role. I was so nervous I forgot my lines. Twice. The director wanted to kill me."

"You seem pretty comfortable now."

"Practice." He shrugged. "And a lot of failure. You learn more from the failures than the successes."

I looked at him. Really looked. He was handsome—not in the sharp, dangerous way that Damian was handsome. Xander was softer. More approachable. He looked like he'd never hurt anyone in his life.

"You're staring," he said, a teasing note in his voice.

I blinked. "Sorry. I was just—"

"It's fine." He smiled again. "I don't mind being stared at. Especially by beautiful women."

I felt my cheeks heat. "I'm not—"

"Beautiful?" He raised an eyebrow. "You are. And you know it. But you don't believe it."

I didn't know what to say.

"It's okay," he continued. "I can tell. You've been through something. Something that made you doubt yourself. Something that made you feel like you weren't enough."

I stiffened. "How do you—"

"I'm an actor," he said. "I read people. It's what I do." He paused. "You don't have to tell me. But if you ever want to talk, I'm here."

I didn't know what to say. I'd spent so long hiding, so long pretending to be fine. And here was this stranger, seeing through me like I was made of glass.

"Thank you," I said finally.

He nodded. "Anytime."

---

The scene was simple. Elena—my character—was supposed to be arguing with her husband. The dialogue was raw, emotional, painful. It hit too close to home.

I'd never been in an abusive relationship. But I knew what it felt like to be trapped. To feel like there was no way out. To pretend everything was fine when it wasn't.

That was the part of me that no one saw. The part I buried deep, deep down.

"Action!"

I stepped into the scene. Xander was across from me, his expression shifting from warm to cold in an instant. He was good. Really good.

"You think you can just leave?" he snarled. "You think you can just walk away?"

"I'm not walking away," I said, my voice shaking. "I'm running. There's a difference."

"Running from what?"

"Running from you."

The words hung in the air. The crew was silent. The director was watching with intensity.

"Cut!" he yelled. "That was perfect. Keep that energy."

Xander's expression shifted back to warmth. "See?" he said. "You're a natural."

I smiled. It felt good. It felt like maybe I could do this.

---

Over the next few weeks, we fell into a rhythm. Filming during the day. Dinner together at night. Xander was relentless in his pursuit—always finding excuses to be near me, to talk to me, to make me laugh.

I was hesitant. I'd been burned before. But Xander was different. He was patient. He was kind. He made me feel like I was worth something.

"Come on," he said one evening, grabbing my hand. "I want to show you something."

"Where are we going?"

"Just trust me."

He led me to the roof of the studio. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. It was beautiful.

"I come here when I need to think," he said. "It helps me remember that there's a world outside all this chaos."

I looked out at the city. The lights were starting to flicker on, one by one.

"It's beautiful," I said.

"So are you."

I turned to look at him. He was close. Too close. His eyes were soft, warm, completely focused on me.

"Xander—" I started.

"Shh." He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "I've been wanting to do this for weeks."

He leaned in. I should have pulled away. I should have told him I wasn't ready. But I didn't. I let him kiss me.

It was soft. Gentle. Completely unlike the desperate, hungry kiss I remembered from another time, another place, another man.

No, I told myself. Don't think about him. Don't think about Damian.

I focused on Xander. On the warmth of his lips. On the way his hand cradled my face like I was something precious.

When he pulled back, he was smiling.

"See?" he said. "That wasn't so hard."

I laughed. "You're impossible."

"I'm persistent," he corrected. "There's a difference."

---

After that night, everything changed.

Xander pursued me relentlessly. Flowers. Notes. Little gestures that showed he was paying attention. I told myself I was being cautious. I told myself I wasn't falling for him.

But I was.

I'd been alone for so long. I'd been invisible for so long. And here was someone who saw me. Someone who wanted me.

It felt like a dream.

But even as I fell, there was a small voice in the back of my mind. A voice that whispered: This is too good to be true.

I ignored it.

I didn't want to be alone anymore.

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