Regret Came Too Late

Simon was nearly about to explode from frustration. And then it hit him. Since the first night they met, he had never once mentioned his name or even hinted at his real identity. What was worse? She had never even asked.

Seething, he fired off a text. "Do you even know who I am?"

But right after sending it, he thought better of it and deleted the message. It was way too weak.

No. He needed her to know exactly who she had brushed off. There was no way they'd never run into each other again. He retyped the message, this time sharper. "Fine. You think you're so special? You're nothing amazing."

He hit send and let out a long breath. He felt a little better as he waited for a reply. But again, there was no response at all, only total silence.

Simon almost lost it right there. He started wondering if this was some reverse psychology trick. If it was, well, he had to admit that it was working. He had never been treated like this in his life.

Meanwhile, Yasmine saw the newest message and was completely unfazed. She blocked Simon's number without hesitation. There was no use dragging things out if it was already over.

She refocused on the small team of scriptwriters gathered around her, her expression crisp and no-nonsense.

"Rewrite this plot point. The audience is tired of the delicate sweetheart character. Tastes have changed. They want something that flips expectations now."

She tapped her finger on the stack of scripts, thought for a second, then picked up her phone and called Grace.

home at that moment. She had just texted Ed, telling him to wait for her at her place-she had a surprise

rang and she saw Yasmine's name, she

Yasmine said. "They're still being adjusted, but

locked in were projected to pull in at least

me in. Thanks," Grace said without hesitation. "I owe

it," Yasmine replied

but the entire house was silent.

toward the noise,

voice answered back, low

the room dim and shadowy. She sat down on the edge of the bed, where she caught a

softly and reached out, finding his wrist

warm voice. "Sorry,

slid the beaded

Then, she up and headed

of

echoed through the apartment.