---
The first time Ashtine Olviga walked into Room 3B, she didn't expect to meet someone who would rearrange the rhythm of her life.
She had just been signed for her first major screen role — "When Our Shadows Touch", a romance and youth series with unknowns, rising stars, and one very talkative assistant director. She was fresh from the studio, nerves bundled neatly beneath her blazer, hair slicked back like armor, and a small script packet clutched in her hand like it might fly away.
Her footsteps echoed lightly in the hallway. Studio floors were always colder than expected, and she shivered—not from fear, but from something she couldn't name yet.
As she reached the door marked 3B, she hesitated.
There were voices inside. Laughter. Some commotion.
Then silence.
Then a voice — smooth, confident, slightly amused:
"You can come in, you know. We don't bite."
She opened the door.
And there he was.
Sitting at the edge of a rehearsal desk, in jeans and a crumpled hoodie, Andres Muhlach looked up from his phone and gave her a half-smile.
Not polite. Not warm.
It was more like… he was testing her.
"You're late," he said.
Her brows shot up.
"The text said 11. It's 10:57."
"I'm always early," he shrugged. "Gives me time to judge people before they walk in."
She blinked.
He was joking. Or maybe not.
"I'm Ashtine Olviga." she said coolly, walking past him, her heels clicking sharp against the tiles.
"I know," he said. "You're kind of famous already. Or TikTok-famous, at least."
"Should I say thank you?"
"Depends. Is it true you hate co-stars who flirt?"
She looked at him.
He grinned, as if daring her to answer. His eyes were dark, but not unreadable. He looked like someone who got away with too many things — late homework, last-minute lines, and every dare from every friend.
She sighed and sat in the chair beside his, leaving a clean seat between them.
>"I don't hate anyone," she said. "But I don't play games."
> "Noted," he said. "But that sounded like a challenge."
She turned to him then, finally matching his gaze.
> "You're not my type."
> "I didn't ask," he said. But his smile grew.
---
The next ten minutes were quiet.
The assistant director walked in with a clipboard.
Two more cast members arrived, chatting loudly.
The energy shifted.
But Andres? He didn't take his eyes off her.
Not in a creepy way. Not even flirtatious.
Just… observant.
Like he was trying to figure out where she came from. What kind of person hides behind that perfect posture and carefully curated silence.
She caught him staring once.
"What?"
"Nothing. You just… don't look like someone who messes up lines."
"I don't."
"Great. I do," he said, flipping his script upside down.
She tried not to smile. But he noticed anyway.
---
They ran their first scene.
Lines exchanged. Blocking marked.
It wasn't a big moment — just a short hallway exchange between two students.
But when the director called cut, he looked up from the camera and nodded.
"That felt real."
Ashtine glanced sideways at Andres.
He wasn't looking at the director.
He was already looking at her.
"Not bad, Room 3B," he murmured.
"You blinked first," she replied.
---
That night, he didn't follow her back.
She didn't message him.
But in a quiet story post with no caption, Andres shared a photo of a blurry rehearsal script.
In the corner, slightly visible… her handwriting on the margins.
A single note she'd scribbled during the read-through:
"Don't forget to pause here. It's the moment that changes everything."
---
And Room 3B?
It wasn't just a rehearsal room.
It was the beginning.
Of tension.
Of almosts.
Of something neither of them had words for yet.
But it had already begun.