I Fought for His Love but Remained Second Best

The night before the celebration banquet, Shane got drunk somewhere.

Staggering, he collapsed onto me, his gaze filled with a tenderness I had never seen before—eyes brimming with emotions long suppressed.

He gently combed through my hair, his fingers braiding each strand with quiet devotion.

The last hairpin he placed was this one.

He said nothing afterward, and I silently accepted everything that followed.

The next morning, I woke up early, fastening my hair with the same hairpin, feeling inexplicably content.

I even cooked a bowl of millet porridge for him.

But the moment I stepped through the door, Shane shoved me away without a word.

He took the hairpin from my hair and clutched it tightly, holding it as if it were something precious.

I sat on the cold floor, disheveled, my face hidden beneath strands of loose hair, dirt smudging my clothes.

"Joann, you will never be her," he spat through gritted teeth.

As if he wasn’t just telling me—but convincing himself.

But what I didn’t deserve went far beyond that.

After forcing myself to regain composure, I followed the address sent in the group chat and rushed to the crew’s wrap-up party.

Yet, when I arrived, someone else had already taken the seat meant for the female lead.

And beside her, Shane was looking at her—gazing with a tenderness I had longed for over the past ten years.

Just looking at her.

Everyone raised their glasses.

"Let’s celebrate the return of Director Dean’s first love—our Harriet! The film is complete!"

And there, on the official movie poster, the words were printed clearly—"Female Lead: Harriet."

I stared at the woman in the center of the crowd.

And in that moment, I finally understood everything.

Shane had chosen me—an unknown girl, covered in dust—only because I resembled her.

Eighty percent, to be exact.

He was willing to train me, to mold me, to perfect my every movement and expression—so that one day, I would look exactly like her.

And from that day on, I never took on another role.

It was only natural that I became Harriet’s permanent stand-in.

I wasn’t even angry.

After all, everything I had was given to me by Shane.

It was his right to take it away—or give it to someone else.

I was just… a little sad.

Even my name had carried an expectation that never truly belonged to me.

Harriet. Joann.

The sky is full of stars, but there is only one moon.

Just like Lana Hatch.

I pressed my lips together and turned to leave.

But Harriet suddenly spoke.

"As long as I’m happy, I can have as many substitutes as Joann, right, Shane?"

I wanted to float far away, but my soul never strayed more than five steps from him.

I saw the slight crease in his brow as he looked at Harriet with concern.

I saw love and devotion in his eyes when he gazed at her.

Once, my father—who had always wished for a son—told me, "Daughters are just burdens. Worthless. Cheap."

And now, the man who had pulled me out of that life said to Harriet:

"Yes, Joann. I can have as many as I want."

The thin thread on my wrist snapped.

The two heartbeats stopped completely.

Tears poured from my eyes like a flood, as if all the river water that had drowned me had gathered there instead.

"Joann..."

Suddenly, Shane looked at me—eyes hollow, his expression dazed.

He held the wet amulet in his hands.

"What’s wrong?" Harriet frowned at his reaction and snatched it away.

"What is this filthy thing?"

That amulet… he had asked for it.

To keep me safe.

To protect my health.

"Nothing," Shane murmured.

"Then throw it away."

"...Okay."

The amulet landed in the trash, lost among discarded lunch boxes from the crew’s midday meal.

Shane sat to the side, typing and deleting, before finally sending me a message.

"Joann, haven't you had enough fun? Stop this nonsense and come back to film. Harriet can't do the kidnapping scene tomorrow."

He didn’t know that yesterday had been the last time I would ever stand in for Harriet.