Chapter 1: The Night I Became Someone

I became an overnight sensation—one of those viral breakouts you see on shows like American Idol, the kind people binge on Hulu and talk about at work the next day.

The moment they called my name, it was like a bolt of lightning hit the stage. The crowd’s roar rolled over me, wave after wave, and suddenly—bam—that’s me: finally out of the shadows, finally seen. A diamond in the rough finally discovered—yeah, that’s exactly how it felt.

I could barely keep it together, blinking through tears as I scanned the crowd. Where is he? There—front and center. Noah Hayes, clapping so hard it sounded like thunder. He was beaming at me with that proud, goofy grin I loved. Like he’d always known I’d get here. Like, of course you made it.

Honestly, I owe it all to Noah Hayes for giving me this shot. No question. Without him, I wouldn’t even be standing here.

And I didn’t let him down. I really didn’t. That thought settled in my chest, warm and solid, like a mug of cocoa on a cold night. I wanted to shout it from every rooftop in New York: We did it, Noah. We really did.

Yeah, some people out there said I’d do anything to climb the ladder, that I just latched onto Noah to get ahead. Sure. Whatever. Let ‘em talk.

But here’s the real story: Noah found me first. He saw something in me before anyone else did, and he’d never let me forget it—not even for a second. Seriously, the guy’s relentless about it.

People in the business always whispered behind closed doors that Noah had been struggling for years—sometimes cold, sometimes distant. Other times, totally unpredictable. You never knew which Noah you’d get. I remember thinking, Man, what’s really going on with him?

But after we got together, everything changed. He started to mellow out, found some kind of peace. It was like I was the missing piece in his crazy jigsaw puzzle—the one that finally made the picture make sense, like snapping the last Lego into place.

Especially when it was just us, behind closed doors—he was gentle and almost clingy, like a big loyal golden retriever. Sometimes he’d nuzzle into my shoulder and sigh. I’d laugh and ruffle his hair, telling him to knock it off. Not that I minded. Honestly, I liked being his safe place.

Back at our cozy little apartment in Brooklyn, Noah had already set up a surprise dinner for me.

Candlelight flickered, throwing soft gold across his affectionate face. The scent of takeout Thai drifted in the air, and for a second, I flashed back to the first night we met—rain on the window, the city buzzing outside, his eyes shy and hopeful.

The table was set with my favorite takeout—pad see ew and dumplings from the spot on Flatbush. He knew I’d be way too wiped for anything fancy. He even grabbed a bottle of André, that cheap champagne we drank after my very first callback.

We sat around, swapped stories, clinked glasses, and toasted to my future. Here’s to the next big thing. May the road ahead be lit up like Times Square.

Noah’s always struggled with insomnia. One night, he rolled over and told me, “You’re the only thing that ever helps me sleep.”

Tonight, he’s out cold, snoring softly, but I’m still grinning like an idiot. I keep replaying the finals in my head—God, that moment, that crowd!—and it’s like happiness might just burst right out of me. I lay there, listening to Noah’s steady breathing, and for the first time in years, I feel safe. Really safe.

I escaped my old family, found my soulmate, my acting career’s finally taking off—everything feels wide open, full of hope. I squeeze Noah’s hand under the covers, promising myself I’ll never let go of this new life.

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