Chapter 14: When the World Refused to Look Away
The world didn't wait for us to breathe.
By morning, the headlines had multiplied, sharper and louder, slicing our private choices into public entertainment. Screens flashed my face beside Lucien's, captions arguing over whether love could survive power or if it had already been swallowed by it.
I stopped reading after the third article called me a strategy.
Lucien noticed the way my hands shook as I set my phone down.
"Don't," he said quietly.
"I wasn't going to," I replied, even though I had been.
Breakfast passed in fragments. He drank coffee he didn't taste. I pushed food around my plate, appetite gone. The house felt smaller, like the walls had leaned in overnight to listen.
"I'll have security with you today," Lucien said.
"I don't want bodyguards at school."
"You don't get to want that anymore," he replied gently. "Not after yesterday."
I hated that he was right.
The car ride was silent except for the hum of the engine and the soft radio murmuring news about us like we weren't sitting there, alive and breathing.
At school, the gates looked the same, but everything else felt altered. Cameras lingered across the street. Phones lifted the moment I stepped out of the car. A security guard moved in front of me instinctively, blocking a lens.
"Is it true?" someone shouted.
"Did you marry him for love?"
"Are you pregnant?"
The last question made my stomach twist.
Lucien's hand settled at my back, steady and protective. "Keep walking," he murmured.
I did.
Inside, the whispers returned, louder than before, no longer pretending to be jokes. Teachers watched me like I might break in the middle of class. Some classmates looked impressed. Others looked angry, like my existence offended them.
Mina found me near the lockers, her face pale.
"This is insane," she whispered. "They're acting like you're not even human."
I forced a smile. "I'm still me."
She squeezed my hand. "Don't forget that."
By midday, I was exhausted.
The counselor called me in "just to talk." She smiled too much, asked too carefully worded questions. Was I safe? Was I pressured? Did I feel overwhelmed?
All valid questions.
All asked too late.
"I'm okay," I said, meaning only that I was still standing.
After school, Lucien was waiting.
"You look tired," he said as soon as he saw me.
"I feel like I ran a marathon while being judged by strangers," I replied.
He almost smiled.
Almost.
We didn't go home.
The driver took a different route, pulling into a quiet underground garage beneath a building I didn't recognize.
"Where are we?" I asked.
"Somewhere private," Lucien said. "I need to tell you something without ears around."
The elevator ride was short but tense. When the doors opened, we stepped into a minimalist office, all glass and steel, cold and impersonal.
Lucien closed the door behind us.
"My family made their next move," he said.
My chest tightened. "What kind of move?"
"They're leaking information," he replied calmly. "Selective truths. Half-lies. Enough to control the narrative."
"About us?"
"About you," he corrected.
The word hit hard.
"They're framing you as unstable," he continued. "Overwhelmed. A risk."
Anger flared hot and fast. "I knew it."
"They're pushing for legal intervention," he said. "Claiming concern."
"Concern for what?"
"For me," he replied bitterly. "For the company. For appearances."
I sank into the nearest chair. "They want to erase me."
"They want to remove you from the equation," Lucien said. "Temporarily."
That word again.
"I won't let them," he added firmly.
"I don't want to be hidden," I said, my voice shaking. "I won't disappear so they can be comfortable."
Lucien crouched in front of me, eyes level with mine. "Then we fight smart."
"How?"
"By taking control of the story," he replied.
My stomach flipped. "Publicly?"
"Yes."
Fear crawled up my spine. "That sounds dangerous."
"It is," he admitted. "But silence is worse."
He explained the plan slowly. An interview. One appearance. Controlled. Honest. No scripts written by lawyers pretending to care.
"They'll tear me apart," I whispered.
"They already are," he said softly. "This gives you a voice."
I closed my eyes.
"I don't know if I'm strong enough," I admitted.
Lucien reached for my hands. "You don't have to be fearless. You just have to be real."
The interview was scheduled for that evening.
Too fast. Too sudden.
By the time we returned home, stylists and advisors had arrived, turning the living room into a war zone of preparation. Clothes were suggested and rejected. Makeup was offered and refused. I wanted to look like myself, not a version they could dismiss as manufactured.
Lucien stayed close, a quiet anchor in the chaos.
"You can still back out," he whispered when no one was listening.
I shook my head. "If I do, they win."
He nodded, pride and worry tangled in his gaze.
The studio lights were blinding.
I sat across from the interviewer, hands folded in my lap, heart pounding so hard I was sure the microphones would pick it up. Lucien sat off-camera, close enough that I could see him if I turned my head.
The questions started easy.
How did we meet? How did the marriage happen?
Then they sharpened.
"Some say you're being used," the interviewer said smoothly. "What do you say to that?"
I inhaled slowly. "I say people assume young means powerless."
"And are you powerless?"
I looked straight into the camera. "No."
A pause.
"Do you love him?" she asked.
The room went silent.
I didn't look at Lucien. I didn't look away.
"Yes," I said.
The word felt like both a shield and a blade.
The interview ended shortly after.
In the car, my body finally gave in. My hands shook. My chest felt tight.
Lucien pulled me into his arms without a word, holding me as the city lights blurred past the window.
"You were brave," he said into my hair.
"I was terrified," I replied.
He kissed my forehead. "They can coexist."
That night, reactions exploded across the world.
Support. Hatred. Debate.
But one thing was clear.
The world wasn't looking away anymore.
And neither were we.
As I lay awake beside Lucien, exhaustion heavy but my mind racing, I realized something that made my chest ache with both fear and resolve.
We hadn't just chosen each other.
We had stepped into the spotlight together.
And once the world decides to watch, it never forgets what it's seen.