Chapter 4

Sophie was my best friend.

Back when I was an extra in Studio City, she couldn't land a real role.

We were crammed into a tiny 100-square-foot hotel room, splitting a 15-dollar boxed meal between us.

She'd always say, "Lily, once we make it, we're gonna buy a big house and paint the rooms whatever colors we want."

We were like soulmates back then and totally got each other, and there was nothing we couldn't talk about.

Then I met Andrew.

As a movie sponsor, he went against everyone and gave me the lead role in my first-ever movie.

After the movie did pretty well, I introduced him to Sophie.

The first time he met her, he frowned and warned me, "Your best friend is way too calculating. You should watch your back around her."

I laughed it off, thinking he was being paranoid. Sophie was so innocent. How could she ever have any bad intentions?

But somewhere along the way, they started getting closer and closer.

By the time I realized it, they were already sharing a bowl of soup right in front of me, joking about things only they understood.

And I'd become the extra, the outsider in my own story.

At a wrap party for one of our shows, Andrew got pretty drunk.

I went over to help him, and he slumped back on the couch, eyes half closed, grinning as he suddenly said, "Sophie, why are you here?"

I froze, feeling like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water right over my head.

It turned out that all those days and nights I never noticed, the person closest to his heart had quietly shifted from me to Sophie.

Like he used to put me on a pedestal, now Sophie was the one he cherished.

That meal landed me in the hospital for a whole week: acute gastroenteritis and a rash from my chili allergy. The doctor said if I'd shown up any later, I could have ended up in shock.

Andrew only came to see me once. He stayed less than 10 minutes before Sophie texted, saying she was scared to go to her ankle follow-up alone.

He stood up, slipped his phone back into his pocket, and said, "Call the nurse if you need anything. Get some rest."

I half-reclined in the hospital bed, watching him walk away until he vanished at the end of the hall.

Once he was gone, the room was quiet again. The IV drip kept falling, drop by drop, as if it pitied me.

The nurse came in to change my dressing and couldn't help but ask, "Where's your husband? Wasn't he here earlier?"

I shook my head and gave a small smile. "He went to be with the one who matters to him."

The nurse paused for a moment, then quietly closed the door behind her without another word.

A few days later, I pulled out the IV myself and checked myself out of the hospital.

Back at my apartment, I removed Andrew's fingerprint from the smart lock. I packed up his belongings, such as his jackets, razor, and charger, basically everything he'd left behind.

Then, I put them all into a box.

On the shelf were two movie ticket stubs from the movie we saw together on our very first date. After staring at them for a moment, I threw them in the trash.

My phone lit up with a message from Andrews. [You got discharged. Why didn't you tell me?]

I shot back a single word: [Busy.]

He replied almost instantly: [Sophie twisted her ankle. Why are you throwing a tantrum?]

I stared at his message, and suddenly, I laughed.

The moon outside was so bright, it finally made me see the truth. These past three years, I was never his girlfriend.

I was the girl he kept in the shadows, the most obedient and the most understanding one. The one who never made a scene.

But now, I don't want to be that person anymore.