Morning at the villa began very actively. The air was filled with the aroma of coffee, cosmetics, hot irons, and anxious anticipation. The whole house buzzed with preparation: costume designers ran with costumes, sound engineers attached microphones. Cameramen and directors coordinated angles. Makeup artists tapped their brushes, beating the rhythm of the upcoming show. Alexei stood on the terrace, watching with interest as everything took shape. His gaze was strict, restrained, but inside a cold storm was brewing—something was bothering him much more than a simple filming day.

The participants who drew the lot to prepare declarations gathered props, rehearsed, and worried. Each had their own plan, their own idea, their own way to say "I love you" so that millions of viewers would believe it. The partners who patiently waited for the evening in their rooms were no less nervous. Every movement and reaction of theirs was watched by numerous cameras, the signal from which was transmitted to the outside broadcasting van, where Alexei and Karina observed everything happening. The day stretched like a string about to snap.

By evening, the sun, slowly setting, flooded the villa with thick, warm light. Everything around finally quieted down. The curtain opened, and the participants delivered one performance after another. Each declaration did not raise even a drop of doubt.

— How beautifully people have learned to imitate love. Disgusting, — Alexei commented, watching the performances.

— But that's the point of the show—to expose the deceivers, — Karina replied.

— Isn't the point of the show to reveal real love? — Karina's assistant asked.

The woman's naivety caused loud laughter among the film crew.

— Where large sums of money are involved, there can be no talk of anything genuine. Each of these participants came for their pathetic desires. And certainly not for love.

— And here's our blonde. Oh, what a hot one. I guarantee her declaration of love will get a large number of views, — the director spoke up, pointing to Eva.

The lights dimmed. The space plunged into twilight—only a thin beam of a spotlight touched the center of the makeshift stage, highlighting Eva's slender figure. The semi-naked girl was magnificent. Opposite her, in a chair, sat Volodya.

Music began to play. Transparent fabric slid easily over her body. Eva moved as if every gesture was a confession. Slowly, sensually, without pretense—her body spoke a language that needed no words.

Volodya looked at her as if she were a miracle. His eyes glowed with sincere, unfeigned love. He literally caught her every curve, every turn of her head, feeling like the happiest man alive. He was ready to believe that this dance was only for him.

But every time their eyes should have met, Volodya felt a cold prick. Eva wasn't looking into his eyes. Her gaze slid past, slightly above, heading straight into the camera lens, which glowed red. She was seducing not him. The pain of this realization was sharp, but Volodya quickly suppressed it, gripping the armrests of the chair. "It's okay," he thought desperately. "As long as she's here, I'll be close. I'll do everything to make that gaze turn to me someday." His resolve only grew stronger. He was ready to endure the game because he was determined to win her heart on this project.

In the control room, the director noted:

— This chick is playing with the camera.

— This chick is seducing someone else, not the viewer.

Everyone in the control room turned their heads towards Alexei as if on command. The man ignored the idle talk. He wasn't interested in Eva's performance either. Buried in his phone, he was reviewing important documents until the last couple—Alina and Maxim—were announced. Holding his breath, Alexei stared at the screen as if hypnotized.

On the other side of the screen, music began to play. Maxim emerged from the darkness. He wore a simple white suit, a slightly unbuttoned shirt. No flashy glamour, but in his every movement—confidence and tenderness. Suddenly, the first drops of rain fell near him—artificial, but it looked like a real miracle. Spotlights highlighted the drops, turning them into a scattering of crystal. Alina emerged from behind a column. She wore a light dress, the very one she had once described in her questionnaire, talking about her ideal date. Maxim slowly walked up to her, without words, just gently taking her hand. Another melody began to play—an old song that played on his first date with Maxim. Her favorite love song. Alina thought he had long forgotten about it, but he remembered. And now Maxim was fulfilling her dream—a dance in the rain.

Alexei remembered that dream too. Alina had asked him for it many times, but he never managed to arrange it for her. In that moment, it dawned on Alexei. He wasn't just watching someone else's happiness; he was seeing proof of deep, intimate knowledge. The dance in the rain, the song, the dress—these were cherished details of Alina's dream, which he knew but didn't value. Maxim knew. And he did it. What Alexei considered his exclusive memory had become a public act of love by another man. And now he watched with open anger as the raindrops turned into a beautiful downpour.

Within a minute, Alina's and Maxim's clothes were wet, the woman's hair was plastered to her head, but they didn't notice. Maxim twirled her, lightly, carefully, as if afraid to break her. She laughed—sincerely, genuinely, as she hadn't laughed in a long time. Her eyes sparkled with happiness. In every glance—gratitude, tenderness, confusion. Maxim was not just a partner—he was an example of a man who loves silently, but expresses the full spectrum of his feelings through his actions.

Complete silence reigned in the control room. Alexei stood, not taking his eyes off the monitor. Clenching his jaw, he tightly gripped the console. Karina watched him secretly. She saw how everything in him trembled, how his shoulders tensed.

— A beautiful scene, — she said quietly. — The viewers will love it.

— It's a fake, — Alexei cut her off shortly.

— Or is it just painful to watch? — Karina couldn't resist, but there was no answer.

The music on the other side of the screen died down. Maxim gently stopped, pulling Alina close, looking straight into her eyes. He leaned closer—just a few centimeters from her lips. At that moment, Alexei's voice pierced the space.

— Stop! Stop filming! Immediately!

Everyone froze. Cameramen exchanged glances. Alexei walked out of the control room onto the platform, his steps sharp, cold, confident.

— Alina, — he said firmly, almost without emotion. — You look bad on camera. To makeup, immediately.

— What's wrong?! — Maxim intervened.

— Your skin is shiny from the water, your hair is hanging like icicles. I won't allow this to be broadcast. Break time.

Without allowing anyone to object, Alexei left the set. Karina watched him go. She understood that there was more to his actions than just a producer's irritation. Everyone on the set understood that it was jealousy he was trying to hide behind a cold, professional mask.

Alina obediently walked to the makeup room. Maxim was left standing in the rain, clenching his fists. Rain dripped from his eyelashes, and somewhere in the control room, Alexei was turning off the monitors—one after another, as if erasing not the scene, but his own weakness from the frame.

Alina, in her wet dress, entered the makeup room. Stylists looked at her sympathetically, offering her a seat. Alina hadn't even reached the chair when the door suddenly burst open, and Alexei walked in.

— Everyone out! I need to speak with the participant, — he addressed everyone in a commanding tone.

The two makeup artists and the assistant quickly left. The door slammed shut, and only the two of them remained. Alina could no longer tolerate Alexei's tactless behavior.

— What are you doing?

Alexei slowly but surely approached Alina. The girl had no choice but to step back. She tried to leave, but Alexei loudly slammed the door shut right in front of her nose.

— What are you doing? What are you even doing here, Alina? Why did you come?

— I didn't come for you, — she said firmly.

— Yes, you came for my money. You always sold what you called love.

Pain and anger instantly flared in Alina's eyes. She stopped retreating and took a step forward.

— You're unfair!

— Unfair?! Five years ago, you just left. Without a word. Without an explanation. As if everything we had meant nothing!

Alina took a step, her eyes full of despair, but also unyielding determination.

— I left so that it would be good for you! To protect you from the dirt, from the debts, from the people who could ruin your life!

Her words struck Alexei like a slap. His eyes narrowed, and his jaw tensed to the limit. He took a sharp, menacing step that made Alina instinctively flinch.

— Good?! For me?! — His voice broke into a furious, low growl. — You think it was good for me?! I went through hell, Alina! For five years, I lived in the depths, trying to understand what I did wrong, and you? You hypocritically talk about "saving" me when you just ran away, leaving me to die of pain! And now you appear in the arms of another man! You had no right to decide what was best for me!

— Nothing can be changed now, Alexei. So leave me alone.

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door. Maxim was outside the door. He tried to open it, but Alexei held the door firmly.

— Alina, are you there? Why are you taking so long?

Taking advantage of the moment, as if to spite him, Alexei suddenly kissed the woman. A ragged moan, like a confession, escaped Alina's chest from the surprise, which Maxim immediately heard. This sound was worse than any kiss, because it gave away her secret, which she herself did not want to admit.

— Alina, are you okay? — Maxim tried to open the door again.

The more forcefully he tried to open the door, the more firmly Alexei held it, venting all his anger, passionately kissing Alina.

— Let me go, — Alina tried to resist.

— If he comes in, he'll see everything, — he whispered, pulling away from Alina's lips.

— Alina, open up! — Maxim insisted.

— Tell him you need to be alone. Tell him to leave, — Alexei whispered, continuing to kiss Alina.

— Alexei, don't... I beg you, stop, — Alina whispered, barely breathing from his caresses. — Speak. Or he'll see us.

Alexei made no compromises. The more Alina tried to resist, the more insistent his kisses and caresses became. The cold, wet fabric of her dress was the only boundary between them. When his hand slid underneath it, Alina's wet skin shivered from the unexpected warmth and contrast. It was agonizing torture, and the girl gave in.

— Maxim, everything's fine. I'm just changing and I want to be alone. I'll be out soon, — Alina said, barely holding herself together.

Maxim stood by the door, his heart pounding. He clearly heard her voice: calm, but distant. And a minute ago, he had heard a moan. A moan that wasn't caused by pain. His intuition screamed that something was wrong, that it was a lie. But he couldn't believe Alina would do such a thing. It must just be panic. He had waited so long for a chance to win her over. He couldn't ruin anything now. He chose trust, drowning out the evidence of his hearing.

— Alright. I'll wait downstairs.

Hearing the retreating footsteps, Alexei let go of Alina. Adjusting her dress, the girl ran away from him and instinctively backed into a corner.

— You are still the same liar. It costs you nothing to deceive. Even now, you easily deceived your fiancé.

Casting a look of contempt at her, Alexei finally left. As soon as the door closed behind him, Alina exhaled with relief and collapsed into the chair. She could no longer hold back and burst into tears.

Alexei returned from the makeup room with quick steps and a stone face. He didn't even look at the crowd of assistants and cameramen. He walked straight through the central corridor. Karina met him on his way. Her gaze fell on his lips—there were traces of bright red lipstick. Several other couples standing aside also exchanged meaningful glances. Eva, who had just been discussing her "perfect" dance with Volodya, froze. Her eyes, full of self-satisfaction, instantly turned into furious, undisguised shock. The bright red lipstick on Alexei's lips was exactly the same as the one on Alina's lips during the dance!

— What?! — Eva gasped. Her hand instinctively clenched into a fist. That "mouse" dared to take her prey!

Volodya, noticing her reaction, confusedly shifted his gaze from Eva to Alexei, but didn't understand the reason for her anger. His gaze was fixed on Eva's face, and he was ready to share her emotions, even without understanding them.

As soon as he disappeared around the corner, Karina's assistant appeared next to her.

— Karina, I made inquiries. Alina is Alexei Sergeevich's fiancée who disappeared five years ago, who left him without explanation, and whom he has been looking for for five years.

Karina closed her eyes to hide a flash of pain, but immediately opened them. The pain was replaced by cold, clear determination.

— I won't let anyone take Alexei from me. No one.

Not waiting for Alina, Maxim returned to his single room. His wet white suit hung on a chair by the window, slowly dripping water. His face was grim. Alina's moan behind the makeup room door echoed in his head. What was really happening in there? Her voice was muffled, distant. That wasn't like Alina. He didn't imagine and plan things this way. Anger so overwhelmed him that the man forcefully kicked the chair, which flew into the wall and shattered.

— Everything will be fine. Alina, you will be mine.

Pulling on a t-shirt, he quickly left the room.

— Enough of these games.

A few minutes later, a sharp, loud knock sounded at Alexei's room door. Once, then a second time.

— Who is it? — Alexei asked irritably. But there was no answer.

The knocking repeated, more insistently.

Alexei put down his papers. Walked to the door. Opened it. Maxim stood on the threshold.

— Lyosha, what the hell are you doing? This isn't what we agreed on.

— Quiet. Are you crazy? Cameras everywhere and listening devices.

— I won't leave until you explain why you changed the script. And what's going on between you and Alina.