yna

ng, fresh-faced, absorbed in a digital world I was rapidly trying to escape. I caught snippets of conversations, the ubiquitous buzz of pop culture. A g

last night?" one girl gushed, her eyes wide. "It's

nd of his, Alayna, is just... in the way. She's been around for

I saw a post comparing them. Kisha is so vibrant and young

e dim light. My reflection stared back: pale skin, faint lines around my eyes, a shadow of the girl I used to be. The girl who wa

Alayna," he'd pleaded, his eyes earnest. "The industry is brutal. I don't want my private life to be scrutini

e, available man. He was constantly being set up on dates, offered roles that required him to "connect" with his f

" I had demanded one night, my voice trembling with suppressed fury. "Is that it

he most beautiful woman I know. But this is my career! It's complicated. You just don

orded post on a minor social media platform, a blurry photo of us holding hands from behin

ef. Finally. Recognition.

ip dropped the same day as a tabloid exposé featuring him and Kisha in a

over my feed. It painted Jarrett and Kisha as star-crossed lovers, destined to be together, but tragically separated by "the girlfr

comment read. "Poor Jarrett, forced

d. "She's pure and innocent, Alayna is j

quickly followed by an "oops, fat fingers!" and a public tag to my untouched, anonymous account. "@AlaynaD

dged my existence. It was a calculated move, a public display of false camaraderie that subt

raged. Instead, he just shrugged. "She's young, Alayn

enty-six, Jarrett! Just two years younger t

his face. "You're just jealous, honey. Kis

ade my blood boil. It was always my fault. My emotions were always too much, too i

I walked towards my flower shop, the scent of fresh cut blooms a welcome, if fragile, comfort. Maybe in Portland, I wouldn't have to constantly shrink myself to fit into someone else's nar