Chapter 15: Our Echo

Six months later

The sound of waves crashing against the shore was the only alarm clock Elara needed anymore. She stretched lazily in the king-sized bed of their overwater bungalow, feeling the warm Maldivian sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. No paparazzi, no scheduled appearances, no one demanding statements about their relationship status.

Just peace.

"Morning, sunshine," Liam's voice was rough with sleep as he rolled over to face her, his dark hair sticking up in impossible directions.

"Morning, grumpy," she replied, unable to suppress her smile as she took in his relaxed features. Six months of genuine happiness had softened the perpetual tension he used to carry around his eyes.

They'd been in the Maldives for two weeks now—their first real vacation as a couple, the kind where they could hold hands on the beach without calculating the publicity value, where they could argue about restaurant choices without worrying about eavesdropping reporters, where they could simply exist without performance.

"Any regrets?" he asked, propping himself up on one elbow to study her face. It was a question he'd asked variations of over the past months, still sometimes unable to believe they'd survived the fallout from their livestream confession.

"Only that we didn't do it sooner," she replied, and meant it.

The aftermath of their Instagram Live confession had been swift and brutal, exactly as their teams had predicted. The studio had threatened lawsuits, though their lawyers had eventually negotiated settlements that were painful but not career-ending. Several endorsement deals had evaporated overnight. Some industry insiders had publicly questioned their professionalism and reliability.

But something unexpected had happened alongside the professional backlash: the public had embraced their honesty with a fervor that surprised everyone, including themselves.

The hashtag #StarfireReal had trended worldwide for three days. Their livestream had been viewed over fifty million times across various platforms. Talk show hosts had defended their choice to prioritize truth over image. Even late-night comedians, typically quick to mock celebrity scandals, had praised their authenticity.

More importantly, Aetheria's Echo had become a massive box office success, with audiences connecting to the genuine chemistry they'd witnessed both on-screen and in their confession. The film's love story felt more authentic because everyone knew the actors had actually fallen in love, even if the circumstances had been unconventional.

"Your phone's buzzing," Liam said, nodding toward the nightstand where her device was lighting up with notifications.

"Ignore it," Elara said, pulling him back down for a kiss. "We agreed—no work calls during vacation."

But the buzzing continued persistently, and eventually curiosity won out. She reached for the phone, expecting to see missed calls from their agents or interview requests that could wait.

Instead, she found something that made her sit up abruptly.

"What is it?" Liam asked, immediately alert at her change in expression.

"It's..." She stared at the screen, hardly believing what she was seeing. "Helena just sent me a video."

Helena Martinez, their director from Aetheria's Echo, had become one of their strongest supporters after the confession, publicly stating that she'd witnessed their authentic connection develop during filming. But this message was different—a video file with a caption that simply read: "Thought you should see this. Congratulations. - H"

Elara opened the video and immediately recognized the setting—the soundstage where they'd filmed their characters' most intimate love scene, the moment that had been the turning point in both their fictional and real relationships.

But this wasn't footage from the actual scene. This was behind-the-scenes material, apparently captured by Helena's personal camera during a break in filming.

On screen, she and Liam sat on the edge of the elaborate set bed, still in their fantasy costumes but completely unaware they were being recorded. They were talking quietly, their heads close together, and even through the phone's small screen, their connection was unmistakable.

"I can't believe we have to do this scene seventeen more times," video-Elara was saying, but she was smiling.

"I can think of worse ways to spend a day," video-Liam replied, and there was something in his voice—a tenderness that hadn't been there in their early interviews.

"Liam?" video-Elara's voice grew more serious. "What happens when all this is over? The filming, the promotion, the whole circus?"

Video-Liam was quiet for a long moment, and current-Elara found herself holding her breath, remembering this conversation and how terrified she'd been of his answer.

"I don't know," he finally said. "But I know I don't want to go back to the way things were before. Before this film. Before you."

"Even though we drive each other crazy?"

"Especially because we drive each other crazy. Anyone can fake compatibility, Ellie. But the way we challenge each other, the way we make each other better... that's not something you can manufacture."

Present-day Elara felt tears prick her eyes as she watched her past self reach for Liam's hand, their fingers intertwining naturally.

"Helena kept filming us," she whispered to present-Liam, who was watching over her shoulder with a soft expression.

"We were already gone for each other," he said quietly. "Even then, when we were still pretending it was all business."

The video continued for another minute, showing them in unguarded conversation, laughing at inside jokes, unconsciously mirroring each other's posture. It was intimate in a way their staged paparazzi photos never could be—two people falling in love without realizing they were being documented.

"There's more," Elara said, scrolling to see additional messages from Helena.

The second video was from even earlier in production, during one of their first table reads. This time, the camera caught a moment when she thought Liam wasn't looking—the way her expression softened when he laughed at something the screenwriter said, the unconscious smile that crossed her face.

"Oh god," she groaned, covering her face with her hands. "I was so obvious."

"So was I," Liam said, pointing to the screen where video-him was clearly stealing glances at her when she was focused on her script.

The final video made them both go quiet. It was from the wrap party, after they'd finished filming but before the promotional campaign had begun. They were sitting at a corner table, surrounded by cast and crew but somehow existing in their own bubble.

"I'm terrified," video-Elara was saying, barely audible over the party noise.

"Of what?"

"Of going back to being strangers. Of this all being over and realizing it was just... proximity and good chemistry and really convincing ourselves we felt something that wasn't there."

Video-Liam reached across the table and took her hand, his thumb tracing circles on her palm. "Ellie, look at me."

She did, and the camera caught the exact moment something shifted between them—not the moment they fell in love, but the moment they both acknowledged it.

"This isn't proximity," he said firmly. "This isn't convenience or chemistry or good acting. This is me, completely gone for you, terrified that you're going to realize I'm not worth the trouble."

"You're definitely worth the trouble," she replied, and then they were both laughing, the sound carrying clearly through Helena's recording.

Present-Elara wiped her eyes, overwhelmed by seeing their love story from an outside perspective. All those months of contracts and calculations and careful performance, but the real story had been happening in the quiet moments between takes, in the spaces where they'd forgotten to act.

"Why is Helena sending us these now?" Liam asked.

Elara scrolled to the final message: "These will be included in the documentary about the film's production. Thought you should see them first. The world deserves to know that what they witnessed wasn't just honesty—it was inevitability. Some love stories refuse to be contained, even by contracts. - H"

"A documentary?"

"About the film, the controversy, our confession... all of it." Elara's phone buzzed with another message, this time from their agent. "David says Netflix wants to distribute it. 'Behind the Echo: A Love Story in Real Time.'"

They sat in comfortable silence, processing the idea that their accidental love story was becoming something larger than either of them had imagined.

"Are you okay with that?" Liam asked. "More exposure, more public dissection of our relationship?"

Elara considered the question seriously. Six months ago, the thought of additional scrutiny would have sent her into panic mode. But now, secure in their relationship and freed from the exhaustion of constant performance, it felt different.

"I think I am," she said slowly. "Because this time, we're not controlling the narrative. We're not managing our image or calculating our responses. People can see exactly what happened and draw their own conclusions."

"Besides," Liam added with a grin, "it's a pretty good love story."

"Even with all the lying and contracts and corporate manipulation?"

"Especially because of all that. We fell in love despite every reason not to. That's either incredibly stupid or incredibly romantic."

"Why not both?"

He laughed and pulled her close, and she marveled at how easy it was now—the touching, the casual intimacy, the certainty that this was real and lasting and worth fighting for.

Her phone buzzed one more time. This notification made her gasp audibly.

"What now?" Liam asked, though he was smiling at her expression.

"Liam..." She turned the phone so he could see the Instagram post she'd just shared—a candid photo of him that morning, hair messy and eyes crinkled with sleep-drunk happiness, taken in the golden light of their overwater bungalow.

The caption read simply: "My favorite leading lady said yes. #Starfire #ForRealThisTime #SheDidntSeeThisPost Coming"

"Wait," she said, her heart suddenly racing. "Liam, what does this—"

But when she looked up, he was no longer beside her in bed. He was kneeling on the floor next to her, holding a ring box that seemed to have materialized from nowhere.

"I know we've already been through enough drama to last a lifetime," he said, his voice steady despite the vulnerability in his eyes. "I know we started this whole thing with contracts and obligations and every reason to keep our lives separate."

"Liam..."

"But I also know that you're the person I want to argue with about coffee orders and defend against dismissive directors and fall asleep next to every night for the rest of my life." He opened the box to reveal a stunning but understated solitaire, elegant in its simplicity. "Elara Vance, will you marry me? For real this time, no contracts involved?"

Through her tears, she could see the comments already flooding in on his Instagram post—thousands of fans celebrating, expressing shock and joy and overwhelming support for their unconventional but undeniably genuine love story.

But all of that faded into background noise as she looked into the eyes of the man who'd accidentally become her everything.

"Yes," she said, laughing through her tears as he slipped the ring onto her finger. "Yes, you impossible, wonderful, formerly grumpy man. Yes to all of it."

As he kissed her, she could hear the ocean waves through the open windows and feel the warm breeze carrying the scent of frangipani flowers. Somewhere, thousands of miles away, their phones were probably exploding with congratulations and interview requests and offers for exclusive wedding coverage.

But here, in this moment, there was just them—two people who'd found real love in the most artificial of circumstances, who'd chosen truth over image, authenticity over safety.

Their echo would continue long after the cameras stopped rolling, long after the last interview was given, long after Hollywood moved on to the next scandal or fairy tale.

And it would be entirely, authentically, beautifully their own.

#Starfire #ForRealThisTime

THE END