Confession on the Red Carpet

The screening room erupted into applause as the credits rolled, the audience buzzing with excitement, praise, and whispered speculation. Sophie sat stiffly, palms cold against her dress, Alexander’s hand heavy on her knee. Liam, several seats away with Max, barely moved. His jaw was tight, eyes fixed on the screen even though it had already faded to black.

As the applause stretched on, the moderator’s voice cut through the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the cast and crew to the stage!”

Lights brightened. People stood. The crowd surged with energy.

Sophie rose automatically, Claire guiding her toward the steps. Her heart thumped like a warning drum. Liam was pushed forward at the same time on the opposite side, and of course—because moderators love suffering—they guided them to stand next to each other, front and center, smiling for the flashing cameras.

Liam stood a careful half-step away from her, hands clasped behind his back, posture rigid. Sophie forced her features into polite calm, but every breath felt sharp.

Aleksander watched from the audience, expression carved in stone.

The moderator began with warm, rehearsed enthusiasm.

“So, first of all: congratulations. The audience clearly loved the film. Sophie, Liam, your on-screen chemistry has already sparked discussions. How was it working together?”

Sophie smiled professionally. “We connected well as scene partners. Liam brought a lot of authenticity, which helped me match the emotional tone.”

Liam’s answer was clipped, steady. “It was intense.”

The moderator chuckled, oblivious to the landmines vibrating under everyone’s feet. A few more safe, pre-approved questions followed: directing choices, filming locations, the music. The audience laughed, clapped, everything perfectly normal.

And then the moderator opened the floor.

“Alright, let’s hear from the press.”

Microphones shot up like spears. A confident young journalist got the first nod.

Her eyes glimmered with the kind of curiosity that spelled doom.

“My question is for Sophie.”

Sophie straightened.

“In the film, the chemistry between you and Liam is… well, undeniable. Given that Liam is known primarily as a musician and has never acted before, I’m wondering… was that chemistry purely acting? Or was there something more between you two during filming?”

The room stilled.

Claire inhaled sharply beside Alexander.

Sophie kept her expression smooth, polished, perfect. “It was strictly professional. We both took our roles seriously. Anything seen on screen was a result of commitment to the craft.”

The journalist nodded slowly, but her gaze slid to Liam.

“And you, Liam? Was it strictly professional for you too?”

Liam looked at her. Looked at Sophie. Looked at the crowd.

Max subtly elbowed him. The kind of elbow that screamed don’t you dare.

Liam ignored him.

He took a breath, jaw flexing, eyes softening just a touch.

“Some people,” he said quietly, “are very good at pretending.”

A ripple moved through the audience.

Liam continued, voice steady but unguarded.

“I’m not one of them. I’m not an actor. I don’t know how to fake something I don’t feel. So… if you’re asking whether I felt something for Sophie during the filming…”

He paused. Sophie froze.

“…yes. I did. And I still do.”

The room imploded.

Gasps. Cameras snapping like a violent storm. Murmurs erupting.

Aleksander stood a little straighter in the aisle, his shadow seeming to thicken. His jaw tightened, eyes darkening with a slow, controlled fury that promised consequences.

Claire whispered a horrified “oh no.”

Max covered his face with his hand as if he might actually pass out.

Sophie’s blood went cold. He said it. Out loud. To everyone.

What have you done?

Her entire body locked, pupils dilating, heart hammering so hard it almost hurt.

The moderator stammered, “A-alright, let’s maybe—uh—move on—”

But it was too late.

Every reporter in the room was already shouting questions.

“Are you two together?”

“Did this happen on set?”

“Sophie, what about your engagement?”

“Liam, are you saying you’re in love with her?”

Security started moving. Studio reps rushed toward the stage. PR people panicked like startled birds.

Aleksander’s stare pinned Sophie like a knife.

And for the first time that evening, even surrounded by cameras, chaos, and bright lights… Sophie felt genuinely afraid of what would come next.

When the lights in the hall finally came back on, the atmosphere was somewhere between electricity and a nuclear explosion. The audience still whispered, as if they had just witnessed a historic moment, while the moderator tried to finish the evening with a smile threatened by a facial twitch.

The stars were literally swept off the stage. First Sophie, whom Claire grabbed by the hand like a seasoned nanny saving a child who just spilled milk on the president. Liam barely moved; Max guided him away like he had just helped rob a bank and needed a path cleared before the police arrived.

Outside, dark vehicles, security guards, and chaos awaited.

Fans screamed, phones flashed, all shouting Liam’s name, no one wanting to hear Aleksander, who was still slightly pale in the face.

Claire shoved Sophie into the SUV, doors closing as if fate itself had slammed them shut. Sophie just stared ahead, pale. “I can’t believe he said that,” she whispered.

Claire sighed. “I can’t believe it only took one evening for me to remember why I don’t go to premieres anymore.” She handed Sophie a bottle of water. “And yes, it’s not over between you two. No matter how much you want it to be. Apparently, it’s not over for him either.”

Across the street, Liam slammed the door of their car, Max looking like he might retire on the spot.

“Liam,” he began, “you do realize the internet is going to explode now?”

Liam sank into the seat. “Yeah.”

Max pinched the bridge of his nose. “And you have more concerts coming up?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. Because now every grandma in the country will be asking if you’re in love with your co-star.”

Liam closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

In the background, fans were still screaming his name. Their banners were not subtle. Two had drawn a heart with Liam + Sophie, and one had written bluntly: DUMP ALEKSANDER.

In their SUV, Max refreshed his phone.

“Oh my god,” he murmured. “Twitter…” He squinted as if the sight physically hurt. “Not only are they supporting you… they’re ecstatic. ‘Finally someone said it.’ ‘King behavior.’ ‘He risked it all.’”

Liam exhaled as if someone had just added ten more kilograms to his chest. “Great. Just what I needed.”

Inside Sophie’s Apartment

Sophie sat on the couch, Claire beside her with an iPad.

“Sophie… the fans are on his side.”

“I can’t hide from them,” Sophie whispered, covering her face with her hands.

“Not from the fans. From yourself,” Claire said quietly.

Sophie flinched. “Don’t start.”

“I won’t. Just… this is no longer your quiet battle. Now the whole world will watch.”

Her phone trembled. Notifications. Questions. Memes. Everything.

She flipped it face down on the table.

Inside Aleksander’s Villa

Meanwhile, Aleksander smashed a champagne glass in his room. His PR was already shouting into the phone, trying to prepare a statement for tomorrow.

“He’s going to destroy her,” Aleksander said coldly. “And I will not allow it.”

The internet, meanwhile, exploded.

“LIAM DECLARES HIS LOVE LIVE ON AIR???”

“Did you SEE Sophie’s face?? She felt it.”

“Aleksander who?”

“Protect Sophie at all costs but also… Sophie, girl, run to your man.”

Inside Liam’s Apartment

Max sat on a chair, desperate. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure this out. Sooner or later. I hope.”

Liam stared out the window at the glittering city.

In his head, only one thought echoed: What the hell have I done… and why don’t I regret it?