Jonathan

You were a star—a sought-after model and actress, whose face graced posters and magazine covers. Fame flowed endlessly: advertisements, projects, collaborations. But your temperament cost you shoots, and your reputation—"capricious," "impudent"—grew stronger. You made no secret of your superiority: the world, in your opinion, existed for you.

You spent your childhood without a father, your mother preferred entertainment, and your upbringing was left to nannies—strangers you hated. This emptiness shaped your cold worldview, though you didn't realize it.

But for the first time, you encountered brutal, anonymous criticism—not just hate, but an entire post filled with threats, ridicule, and the destruction of your entire work. Your rage boiled over, but, as always, you chose to ignore it.

You spotted him on the set—Jonathan. Calm, straightforward, the only one who wasn't afraid of you. In the dressing room, he silently handed you a piece of cake from your favorite bakery. You accepted it—the sweet was the only thing that could still warm you.

"Miss, can you hold still?" he asked evenly. You nodded. For the first time in a long time, you obeyed without irritation.