- 6.
At the chaotic scene, firefighters were escorting crew members away from the still–burning wreckage. Ethan, ignoring the barriers and
pleas, pushed his way into the cordoned–off
area.
“Amelia! Amelia, where are you?!” He grabbed soot–covered survivors, one after another, but none of them were her.
Crew members, seeing him, looked grim. “We haven’t found Ms. White yet, sir. She was
closest to the blast… it was a flash explosion,
the force was tremendous… she was
engulfed…”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Stone. The fire department
has searched repeatedly, but… we haven’t
found her. We fear… the worst.”
“No!” Ethan’s eyes were bloodshot. He tried to
- ))
444
<
rush towards the still–smoldering set. “Keep
looking! Find her! I’ll pay you anything! My
Amelia’s in there! I need to see her! Dead or alive!”
A firefighter restrained him, his voice filled with pity. “I’m sorry, sir. The force of the blast… there might not be anything left… she might have been… incinerated.”
Ethan’s legs gave way, he crumpled to the ground, clutching his hair. “How could I…” he sobbed, tears streaming down his face. He always checked the safety measures himself, every single time. Except this time… Shock, grief, and regret overwhelmed him.
- 7.
Ethan stayed at the scene for 24 hours, but there was no news. Refusing to believe Amelia was dead, he suppressed any public announcement of the accident. The next day, pale and haggard, he returned home. Sunlight streamed through the open windows, warming the house, yet it felt empty without her.
His phone rang. It was his assistant. “Mr. Stone,
<
444
we need the company seal for Ms. White’s film contract.”
Ethan rubbed his face wearily, his mind slowly
focusing. “Come and get it. From now on, handle Sarah’s affairs yourselves. Don’t bother
me.” He opened the safe, then froze. There, alongside the seal, was a letter.
“Ethan,” it began. “By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. Looking back, every moment that made my heart flutter now feels like a cruel joke. The love in your eyes… it was never for me. I thought we were destiny. Turns out, it was just a play you directed. I’ve been living a nightmare, finally understanding I was nothing but a stand–in for your obsession. I gave you my heart, but to you, I was just a temporary distraction. You spun a web of lies, trapping me in a false reality. I don’t blame you, but I can’t · be someone’s shadow any longer. Goodbye, Ethan. We’re done.”
Ethan crumpled the letter, pounding his fist against the wall, a guttural cry escaping his lips. Blood welled from his knuckles, but the physical
<
pain was nothing compared to the agony in his
heart. He called his friends, one by one,
demanding, “Who was it?! Who told Amelia?!”
Then, a hesitant voice from that night, “Ethan…
I think Amelia… she might have been awake…”
