Page 8 of Eat Slay Love

And yet, there was something so hauntingly beautiful about the way they moved together, like two parts of the same soul finally colliding.

Wow.

The firelight flickered in the background, casting a golden glow over their skin.

“Oh.” Ava arched her back as Liam’s hands roamed her waist.

The blood-red sheets beneath them shifted.

I smiled.

Every kiss, every touch was carefully choreographed, yet it didn’t feel staged.

It felt real.

Too real.

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to focus on the technicalities—the angle of Liam’s hand, the fall of Ava’s hair, the timing of her gasp.

But instead, my mind drifted to places it shouldn’t.

To the hollow ache in my chest.

They looked so perfect together, like a living, breathing fantasy brought to life. It was easy to see why the director knew fans would be obsessed with this pairing.

But watching them now, I felt something I hadn’t expected—a sting of loneliness that burned sharper than I’d care to admit.

I wasn’t envious of Ava, not exactly. She was beautiful, yes, and talented beyond measure, but it wasn’t her looks or her fame that made my heart twist.

It was the way Liam looked at her.

Even though it was all pretend, there was an intensity in his gaze that felt like it could shatter the world.

Like she was the only thing that mattered.

And I?

Well. . .

I’d never been looked at like that.

Not even during my marriage.

Not even during the times I’d thought love was enough to hold two people together.

I took a deep breath, willing the emotions away.

Concentrate.

This wasn’t about me.

This was about them.

About the scene.

About making something beautiful, something that would make people feel.

But wasn’t that the problem?

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