When Dream Takes over

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The photo lights flashed, reflecting off glossy glass panels as Michael stood in position on the brand endorsement shoot. He adjusted his jacket, brushing a hand through his styled hair, unaware of the surprise waiting for him. The director clapped his hands.

"Model B, on set!"

Michael turned casually—and froze.

Jenna.

Her hair fell in soft waves, makeup subtle yet stunning. She wore the same brand attire, poised with calm elegance. For a moment, Michael's breath hitched.

"You?" he muttered under his breath.

Jenna raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was annoyed or confused. "Surprise," she said lightly.

Michael let out a short laugh, masking the jolt inside. "Wow...they could've told me my co-model was Rico's favorite person."

Jenna blinked. Again, Rico. Her lips pressed into a line, but she turned away.

Michael noticed. "What—did you just ignore me?"

She quickly replied, "No..."

But Michael's tone shifted, softer, almost vulnerable. "Jenna...is Ameya okay?"

Jenna's eyes flickered. Always… Ameya.

Michael sighed and glanced away. "I don't know what's going on. She's different now. She used to talk endlessly about nothing...argue with me for no reason...annoy me with stupid jokes." He paused, lips curving into a distant smile. "Now... she's too quiet. Always lost. And she avoids me. Like I don't even exist."

Jenna's heart ached. You're right. The person you loved...was never Ameya. It was me. But how could she say it? How could he ever believe it?

"I just don't get it..." Michael said, rubbing the back of his neck. "She's still her, right?"

Jenna opened her mouth, about to say Michael... my soul is in Ameya's body... but—

"Positions!" the director called.

Michael sighed, and Jenna exhaled the truth she never got to speak.

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Meanwhile, near a quiet lakeside, the evening sun bathed the world in gold. Ameya sat on the bench, her red-colored hair catching the warm light, matching her playful outfit. Rico sat beside her, wearing a sleek black jacket, his mask covering half his face. They looked like a mysterious couple from a music video.

Ameya tilted her head. "So… where are we going next?"

Rico smirked, his eyes flickering beneath the mask. "Back to our place."

"What?!" Ameya's voice rose, annoyed. "Is that all?"

Rico leaned slightly closer. "Do you really love spending time with me that much?"

Ameya's eyes widened. She shoved his chest playfully. "Rico—stop it!"

But when her fingers touched his chest, Rico gently caught her hand, firm yet careful.

"Rico… We're in public!" Ameya whispered. "Let go—"

Instead, Rico removed her mask with his other hand, eyes fixed on her lips. "Your lips… are so tender. They make me—"

Before he could finish, Ameya pushed him away. "Wait a second! Didn't you say you couldn't come for our date next week? And now, you randomly changed it to today?"

Rico's expression darkened slightly, brows drawing in. "But—"

Ameya turned away, disappointment written all over her. "I dressed up today, you know? I planned a movie, haunted house, arcade... but now you're telling me we're just… going back?"

Rico stood and gently pulled her hand. "Come."

"What?"

"Come. I'll take you somewhere," he said, voice quieter now.

After a short drive, the car stopped in front of a towering luxurious flat. Rico stepped out, walked around, and helped Ameya unbuckle her seatbelt.

They entered the building, holding hands, and ascended countless floors in a private elevator. When the doors opened, Rico typed a passcode into a sleek panel. The door opened.

Ameya blinked. "Wait... This is your apartment? I thought you lived in the dorm?"

Rico chuckled as they entered. "We did when we first joined FJ4. But now, we live in our own apartments."

The grand space stunned her—a crystal chandelier hung above a vast living room. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking skyline view. Rico headed to the kitchen, pulled out a cold juice bottle, and handed it to Ameya.

She sipped, curious. "So why did you bring me here?"

Rico leaned against the counter, casual yet direct. "For our date."

"Here?"

He nodded. "Going to a movie theater? Too risky. People might notice us. But here..." He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "There's no disturbance. Just you and me."

Ameya blushed. She blinked fast, heart fluttering.

"Want a tour?" he asked.

He showed her everything—the glowing balcony, a shimmering indoor pool, king-sized rooms, and finally, a private movie theater. Then, in his bedroom, something caught Ameya's eye.

An old photo album.

"Is this… your family?"

Rico came over, glanced at the photo. "Yeah. That's my dad, mom, and me. Cute little guy, right?"

Ameya smiled. "You were adorable."

He smirked, stepping closer until she was gently pinned between him and the wall. "And what about now?"

Ameya stammered, voice trembling, "Mmm…"

"Mmm?" Rico teased. "What's mmm supposed to mean?"

He snatched the album, flipping it again. A photo fell out.

Ameya picked it up. "Who's this girl? She's so cute!"

Rico rolled his eyes. "Childhood enemy."

"Enemy?" Ameya laughed. "She looks sweet!"

"We were enemies more than friends. Always fighting. She annoyed me to death."

Ameya grinned. "She sounds a lot like me."

Rico stared at her for a second, then leaned in closer again, but this time his voice was different—lower, serious.

"But I never liked anyone who annoyed me... until now."

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To be continued…

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