I didn't go to set that day. I cleared my entire schedule just so I could plan a little surprise for Raphael. I wanted to cook for him, even though i had no idea how.
It was stupid, probably. The kind of thing you see in movies. But i wanted it to be real.
I called one of the chefs who sometimes catered my shoots and begged him to help me over video call.
"Miss Claudia, are you sure? You're an actress, not a cook," he teased carefully.
I forced a laugh. "Just... please don't tell anyone. Not even your staff. It's important."
He raised a brow but nodded.
We settled on something simple but special: creamy garlic steak.
I tried so hard. Burned my wrist when the oil popped.
Dropped garlic all over the counter.
Stifled a scream when the cream boiled over.
But i didn't give up.
"Miss Claudia, you're going to injure yourself," the chef scolded gently.
"It's fine," I muttered, wiping my sweaty brow. "For him, it's fine."
When i finally finished, I was shaking from nerves and exhaustion. But the food looked decent.
I packed everything into containers, rushed home, and set the table with candles and wine like an idiot who still believed in fairytales.
I even changed into a simple dress, nothing designer, just... soft. Nice. Like i wasn't "Claudia Araneta the Actress" tonight.
Just... his.
I sat there.
One hour.
Two.
My phone stayed silent.
—
By 1:30 AM, the door opened. Raphael walked in looking like death itself. Coat draped over his arm. Hair mussed.
He stopped when he saw the candles and wine. His eyes flickered to the trash where i'd hidden the grocery bags.
He exhaled.
"Really?" he asked tiredly. "This is what you did tonight?"
My heart clenched. "I made it for you. I cooked."
He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping.
"Right. Because you're always performing."
My breath hitched. "What?"
"Everything with you is a show," he said, voice cracking from exhaustion. "Do you even know what's real?"
I felt the tears sting my eyes.
"I did this for you," I whispered. "Because I wanted you to come home to something warm. Because—"
I choked.
"Because I love you, you idiot."
He froze.
But he didn't say it back.
Just let out a humorless laugh and ran a hand through his hair.
"I'm too tired for this, Claudia."
That broke something in me.
My hands trembled as i grabbed the wine bottle and hurled it at the floor. Glass shattered.
"Why can't you see me?" I screamed. "Why do you think I'm lying? Why is it so impossible to believe i care about you?"
He didn't answer.
Just watched me. Exhausted. Silent.
My voice cracked. "I see you killing yourself for everyone else. I see you falling apart and you won't even let me in."
Still nothing.
He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "Claudia, I—"
"No, don't," Icut him off, my voice breaking. "I don't need to stay here and listen to this."
I couldn't take it.
I grabbed my coat and stormed out. I didn't know where i was going. I just couldn't stay there anymore.
I sat on the building steps for hours, makeup ruined, hair a mess, crying quietly where no one could see.
My phone buzzed in my hand.
It was Vanessa.
I answered shakily.
"Vanessa... we fought again."
She was quiet. Then sighed.
"Miss Claudia... Raphael had two patients die tonight."
My chest squeezed painfully.
She continued softly. "My friend was in the OR. She said he... cried. Hard. Especially over the little girl. He stayed after his shift to talk to her parents. He didn't want to leave them alone."
I closed my eyes.
Raphael crying?
That image gutted me.
I didn't say anything else.
Just ended the call and sat there in the cold, hugging my knees.
Because that's what this was, wasn't it?
Me wanting him so badly it hurt.
Him being so far away i couldn't reach him no matter how hard i tried.
I found myself frozen in place, lost in thought.
My emotions were all over the place. I was still hurt, still angry, but it wasn't as if i had anything to do with his patients' deaths. It wasn't my fault. So why did he take it all out on me?
But then again... maybe it wasn't about me.
Maybe he was just exhausted. Maybe he just needed someone to blame because the weight of losing people was too much for him to carry.
I let out a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. If i walked in angry, we'd just fight again.
So i wiped my tears, inhaled sharply, and forced myself to be calm before heading back to our unit.
—
When i finally walked back in, he was gone.
The glass had been cleaned up.
I went to my room, collapsed onto the bed in my dress, and cried until sleep finally dragged me under.
The next morning, I didn't look at him.
I grabbed my purse and headed for the door.
"Claudia—wait."
I didn't turn around.
He let out a rough exhale.
"I'm sorry," he said, voice low. "I didn't mean it last night. I was exhausted. It wasn't fair."
I didn't move. Didn't speak.
"I made breakfast," he added weakly.
"Please... eat before you go."
My fingers tightened around my bag.
"That's fine," I said flatly.
Then i left.
I didn't go to set that day either.
I cancelled my interview.
Locked myself in the condo.
Memorized my lines for an upcoming film in silence, mumbling them to myself, rewriting them until they blurred.
I checked my phone every hour.
But there was nothing from him.
Of course there wasn't.
Because this thing between us was supposed to be secret.
Because we weren't supposed to be anything.
Because no one even knew we were married.
Because to him, it felt like it didn't even matter.
—
When i finally walked out of my room, he was there. Sitting on the couch. Waiting.
He stood the second he saw me.
"Claudia—"
I didn't answer.
I turned away, walked straight to the guest room, and shut the door behind me.
He didn't follow.
And i realized, with my heart pounding painfully, that maybe he never would.
Because I loved him.
But he didn't even see me.
—
I didn't want to see him
.
Didn't want to hear his voice, or let him see how wrecked i felt.
So i left.
I grabbed my bag before he could stop me, and went straight to the studio.
I wasn't even due to film anything for hours, but i didn't care. I just needed to be somewhere he wouldn't follow. Somewhere i could hide.
The moment i arrived, everyone looked surprised.
"Miss Claudia! You're... early?"
I forced a smile, brushing my hair from my face. "Yeah. Just felt like coming in."
They didn't question it too much. I was Claudia Araneta after all. I did what i wanted.
But even the director raised an eyebrow.
"You sure you're okay? You look... tense."
I waved him off. "I'm fine. Let's just rehearse."
They let me.
We blocked scenes even though it wasn't scheduled. I threw myself into the lines, asked about angles and lighting, anything to keep busy.
Because if i stopped, i'd think of last night.
And i couldn't afford to do that.
A couple of hours later, I was sitting in the makeup chair when my manager pulled me aside.
"Claudia." His voice was low and wary.
I blinked at him in the mirror. "What?"
"There's a guy outside. Says he's looking for you."
My stomach dropped.
Of course it was him.
Raphael.
I bit my lip, avoiding my manager's gaze.
He frowned, leaning closer. "Who is he? Paparazzi? A fan? Should we have security remove him?"
"No!" I blurted, a little too loud.
He blinked. "Claudia." His tone was careful now. "You know you can't be seen with anyone. Not now. Not when your movie with Dustin is blowing up. The love team is everywhere. You know how this works."
My throat felt tight.
I swallowed hard.
"He's... just my boyfriend," I mumbled.
The words felt foreign on my tongue.
My manager stared at me like I'd lost my mind.
"Your... boyfriend?" He let out a breath. "Claudia. Come on. Do you know what will happen if someone leaks that? If people find out you're dating someone—not Dustin?"
I clenched my fists.
"I know," I whispered.
He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't think it's a good idea for him to be here. Not now."
I looked away, my voice cracking.
"Please. Just... let him in."
He studied me for a moment. Saw something in my face, I guess, because he sighed in defeat.
"Five minutes," he muttered. "And keep it quiet. I'm serious, Claudia. Your career is on fire right now. Don't do anything stupid."
I didn't answer.
I just nodded.
When Raphael walked in, I couldn't even meet his eyes.
I crossed my arms over my chest, tense.
"What are you doing here?" I hissed.
He looked tired. Frustrated. But determined.
"Claudia. We need to talk."
I shook my head. "Not here. Not now."
He looked around at the crew buzzing in the distance, the makeup artist pretending not to listen.
"Claudia—"
I cut him off, my voice cold and even.
"You need to leave. I'm working."
His jaw tightened.
But for once, he didn't fight me.
He just exhaled, looking at me with those unreadable eyes that made my chest ache.
And then he turned and left without another word.
When the door closed behind him, I felt like i could finally breathe.
But it didn't make me feel better.
If anything, it made me want to cry.
Because even after everything, even with the cameras and the makeup and the lights, I was just me.
And he didn't see it.
Or maybe he did.
And he didn't want it.
I pressed my palms into my eyes, willing the tears to stay put.
"Claudia, ready for your close-up?" the director called.
I cleared my throat, straightened up, and forced a bright smile.
"Always."
Because that's what I did best.
Pretend.