***

*Daniele*

7:50 PM

Café Leroux’s back booth smelled like stale espresso and orange peel—the same one I kept twisting between my fingers. Ten minutes early.

Vince’s latest text burned in my pocket:
Where r u? TMZ interview was MANDATORY.

I’d ignored twelve calls. The MatchUP contract could rot.
Fuck off, Vince. Not in the mood right now.

The barista refilled my black coffee.
“She stood you up?” he asked, nodding toward the empty chair.

I muttered a laugh, louder than I meant to be.

A woman at the counter glanced my way. I turned my face, shielding myself behind the collar of my jacket, pretending not to care.

*Camille*

8:58 PM

I sprinted out of the subway, nearly tripping on the last step. Forty minutes of arguing with Lena. Twenty more changing outfits. And now, I was running toward the café as if I hadn't already been gutted.

Rain clung to my hair. My boots slapped against the sidewalk. I was late, flustered, and absolutely not prepared for what happened next.

I turned the corner on 14th. And stopped dead.

Daniele’s face stared down at me from a glowing MatchUP mini billboard—same smile, same ink curling along his neck, same goddamn leather jacket. The ad read: Find Your Perfect Match—Just Like Daniele Did!"

My mother’s voice—Tu vis dans ta bulle…You live in your bubble. You never look around.
hit me like cold water. He wasn’t a person on a date anymore. He was this persona, frozen in lights, selling a fantasy. My heart hammered and I ran faster.

*Daniele*

9:10 PM
Jax again:
DUDE. Check this link, asap”

I clicked. My face filled the screen, spliced with Vince’s voiceover and a high-budget edit. “Daniele Russo Finds Love? MatchUP Exclusive.”

Then a silhouette appeared. It was her—but not her. It was a "re-creation" of our date. A girl who looked just like Camille from behind, wearing the same jacket, her face kept in soft-focus shadows. They’d even sampled her laugh, stripping the background noise until it sounded like a studio recording.

Fucking AI

The text crawled across the bottom: WHO IS SHE? Find her on MatchUP.

They hadn't used her name—they were "teasing" it, building a mystery to drive downloads. They were using her as a ghost to sell a product. My stomach flipped. This wasn't a promo; it was a trap, and Vince had timed the "leak" to hit the second I was supposed to be in that car.

Then my phone buzzed again. Vince
Get to LA tonight or the label drops you.

I was going to kill him, and she wasn't coming.

The black SUV pulled up to the curb, right on cue. The back door swung open. 

I stood up too fast. The stool screeched against the floor.

This was it. Get in the car. Choose the career. The only move.

And then I saw her. Camille.

Standing right outside the window, frozen, watching me. Her face was a clean, sharp slap.

Every instinct screamed to go to her. To explain. To fix it.

But Vince’s guy was already reaching for my arm, herding me toward the open door. The engine was running. My entire life was in that van.

I looked at her, my feet rooted to the pavement, torn in two—until the momentum of my world pushed me into the car.

*Camille*

9:09 PM
I stayed outside the café for a minute too long.
He was there, hunched over his phone, fingers tapping frantically.

Then the black SUV pulled up to the curb—fast, loud, like a bad metaphor.

Two men stepped out. One in a tailored coat, the other holding a clipboard.

Then my eyes found his.

He looked—Not guilty. Not busted. Just… cornered. Like a trapped animal. 

I stood there. Rooted.
The man in a tailored coat stepped out, said something, and the moment shattered. Daniele’s jaw tightened. He looked from me to the open car door, a trapped animal calculating an impossible escape. Then his shoulders slumped. He climbed in, the movement full of a surrender that made my stomach twist.

As the car pulled away, his face was at the window, his mouth forming the words I’m sorry.

My phone buzzed.

Fuck, Camille. I waited an hour. I’m sorry I had to leave.
I didn’t know it would get this messy.
I just wanted one night where I was just me.
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want to break the magic.

I stared at the screen.The words blurred. Not from tears. Just the kind of exhaustion that settles into your bones when reality snaps back in place.

Magic was always just another lie waiting to dissolve.