Taylor’s POVÂ
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The glow of the screen is blinding.it paint my hands blue and my face pale like Im sitting in front of something radioactive instead of a phone..The feed keeps refreshing on its own and oh and the hashtags multiplying like bacteria.Â
#DylanWalkerExposed.Â
beside me Aiden scrolls through his own phone his expression carved in stone.we sit close enough that our shoulder are brushing every time he shifts. We are so close enough that i can smell the faint mix of soap and cedar that always clings to him.Â
the room feels too still and the only sound is the soft buzz of notifications and the faint hum of rain still dripping from the gutterÂ
outside..Â
I glance at his screen. Every post is a reaction–clips of Dylan’s interviews, screenshots of old tweets, even old videos being dissected frame by frame. Everyone suddenly has an opinion, a theory, a memory.Â
Then the current shifts. “Wait,” I murmur, leaning closer. “Scroll back.”Â
He pauses, thumb hovering. My name flashes across the screen in bright white text.Â
TAYLOR REED & AIDEN FAKE RELATIONSHIP.Â
And below that–our photo. The one some fan must’ve taken at the press conference.me laughing Aiden looking at me like I just said something worth hearing.Â
The caption reads: “are we just not going to talk about how these two look like a PR stunt waiting to happen?”Â
my stomach sinks.Â
I scroll through the replies–hundreds of them in seconds.Â
“Poor thing She’s caught in a “toxic, emotionally manipulative relationship” with Aiden.”Â
“He’s totally using her for damage control.”Â
“No, she’s clout chasing. Look at her eyes–she’s calculating.”Â
“Aiden deserves better.” It’s like watching people pick apart my soul under fluorescent lights.Â
They’re building versions of me I don’t recognize–one post at a time.Â
“I should’ve seen this coming,” I whisper. “The internet doesn’t stop at one scandal–it feeds off the next.” Aiden glances at me, quiet but alert. “you are not the one who did anything wrong..Â
“That doesn’t matter,” I say, voice thin. “Truth doesn’t trend. Drama does.”Â
More notifications flood in.Someone created a fake account pretending to be me same profile picture same name, even the same pinned tweet. It’s posting fake “apologies,” fake screenshots of DMs with Aiden, and a statement claiming I “I was force to be in a fake relationship”Â
I open the comments. People are arguing about which account is the “real” me. Some are defending me; others are convinced I’m lying. My throat feels tight. I want to speak, to correct them all but I know better. The more I respond, the deeper it gets.Â
Aiden sets his phone down. “you should take a break from this.“hake my head. “If I stop looking, it keeps happening withoutÂ
me.”Â
“yeah,” he says softly. “Thats kind of the point.” he doesnt say it in a not so kind way—it’s almost gentle.his tone cuts through the noise its steady and grounding. i force myself to breathe.Â
my phone starts to buzzes again. Another fake account, another headline. Someone photshop a photo of me into a red carpet shot that never happened. There’s a quote attached–words I neve said.Â
1/2Â
Chapter 29Â
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“Sometimes you have to destroy a man’s career to find yourself.”Â
I shut my eyes. the air feels heavy its thick with the hum of digital aos.i can almost taste the static–bitter electric.Â
i lower the phone and stare at my reflection in the dark scree“Is this what fame is?” I ask quietly. “Watching strangers build a version of you until it eats the real one alive?”Â
Aiden studies me for a long moment.Â
“Pretty much,” he says. “Except most people invite it. You didn’t,Â
There is something in his voice it is something that sounds like he knows exactly how it feels.for once there is no sarcasm no armor. Just honesty.Â
I look at him then, really look.the shadows under his eyes, the fain scar at his jawline i never noticed before. He is always so composed so controlled- but in this light i see the exhaustion tucked beneath it.Â
he catches me staring and arches a brow. “What?”Â
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