Gross, but cute

The director's approval still echoed in my ears as I stepped onto the set, trying to keep my breathing steady.

The entire morning had been a whirlwind of nerves and relief, but now, standing under the hot lights, I felt my heart rate spike again for an entirely different reason.

Maeve was already there, standing by the ornate fake window that overlooked the lavishly decorated set designed to resemble a royal chamber.

She was flipping through her script, her posture rigid, her expression unreadable.

Since that day the day she punched Zaya we hadn't spoken. The air between us had turned cold, and now, with this scene, I was bracing for the awkwardness that was sure to follow.

I adjusted the long, flowing gown that trailed behind me and ran a hand through my newly dyed hair, feeling the silkiness of the strands. It felt strange this weight on my head, this bold statement that I was proud of but also wary of flaunting in front of Maeve.