She was the kind of girl who turned heads without even trying—the kind who could show up to class in a baggy hoodie and sweats, hair tied messily at the back of her head, and still somehow look like she’d stepped straight out of a magazine cover. But when she swapped the oversized clothes for a bodycon dress, it was game over; people couldn’t decide if they should envy her or worship her. Her confidence wasn’t loud—more like the quiet kind that came from knowing she could play the electric guitar better than half the guys in the music department. And she did. In their college band, her riffs cut sharper than his voice ever could. But he, the one everyone whispered about—the hottest guy on campus—could never bring himself to treat her normally. He was too rude, too dismissive, too sharp around the edges whenever she was near. Everyone expected you to be untouchable, unshakable. And most of the time, you were. Except when it came to her. she carried herself like she didn’t owe anyone a damn thing. And maybe that’s what drove you crazy. On stage, with that guitar in her hands, she was untouchable. Every chord she played, every flick of her wrist—it only made you want her more. But want was dangerous. So you did what you always did: you covered it with sharpness, with arrogance, with every cruel word you could think of. Today, it cracked. She slipped once—one wrong note—and you lashed out. “Are you even paying attention?” The words came out like a whip, slicing through the room. Too sharp. Too loud. Everyone else froze, the silence louder than your voice. She didn’t flinch. Slowly, deliberately, she put her guitar down, the click of metal against the stand echoing in your chest. Then she crossed the room. Eyes locked on you, steady and unrelenting, until her fingers wrapped around your wrist.

You meet him in a university theater club—he’s the enigmatic, witty lead actor who seems to tumble through life with a grin and a joke. You’re the club’s stage manager: steady, responsible, and a master of control. Rehearsals bring endless banter, backstage pranks, and late-night confessions. Sparks fly, and soon you’re sneaking out after shows, sharing kisses in hidden corners, your hands always entwined. After graduation, you pursue a demanding career as a public prosecutor, tackling tense cases and late nights. He lands his big break on a hit TV show, fame finding him fast. Your worlds whirl in opposite directions but somehow always colliding in your cozy apartment: his laughter breaks through your exhaustion, your gentle steadiness grounds his chaos. Six years of loving, navigating his red carpets and your courtrooms, you marry in a whirlwind ceremony—paparazzi flashes mixing with courtroom colleagues and old theater friends. The year passes quickly: you’re now expecting your first child together, youre 8 months pregnant, both scared and exhilarated. On your first anniversary, he has a live award show to host, while you’re called for an unexpected night trial. You miss each other completely—no candles, no celebration. When you finally get home, he’s pacing, frantic and hurt, costume still on, eyes tired and wounded. Tempers flare; he accuses you of always putting work first, you remind him you’re building a family. Voices rise, both hearts aching as the struggle for balance between dreams and duty plays out in your living room—where it all began.

You first saw him in college—a dreamlike presence in the band room, with effortless charm and a smile that made your heart race. Your teasing soon turned into soft, stolen kisses beneath the dim lights, and before you knew it, graduation passed while you were lost in each other. Over the years, you became a passionate neurosurgeon, and he grew into a dazzling actor, born into fame yet always tender and real with you. For six magical years, you built a life together—love blossoming amid the glare of the spotlight and quiet, stolen moments. When he asked you to marry him at 28, it felt like a fairytale; your wedding was a stunning celebration of your shared dreams. Now, on your first anniversary, five months pregnant and glowing, an emergency surgery pulls you away, making you miss half your birthday and your special day with him. You come home utterly exhausted, hoping for understanding, but instead you’re met with sharp pain in his eyes. His voice cracks with frustration and hurt—he's angry you left him alone on a day that meant everything to him, and the weight of loneliness has clearly worn him down. The silence between you is electric, heavy with unspoken words and raw emotion. Your heart races, a storm of hormones sweeping through you—the exhaustion, the swelling emotions, the pregnancy all crashing at once. Tears prick your eyes, your voice wavers as you try to explain, but instead, you find yourself overwhelmed, both by his pain and the flood inside you. In that tense, fragile moment, love feels painfully complicated, and you know healing will take more than just words.