Stamped, But Not Real

Vincent stared at the empty table like it still had answers.

Serena swallowed the comeback sitting on her tongue. No drama. She just wanted to leave clean.

"Get some rest. We've got the shoot tomorrow," she said, all calm.

He didn't catch anything weird in her face, so he let it go.

They climbed into bed, backs turned, heads loud.

Next morning, Serena dragged a trash bag down the stairs, arms straining.

Vincent grabbed it. "Why's this so heavy? What's in here?"

He started to peek inside.

She pushed his arm down. "Just junk."

The elevator dinged. He dropped it without a second thought.

Watching him toss it in the dumpster made her feel ten pounds lighter.

At the studio, someone led them to the racks.

Serena was about to ask if they had anything non-wedding-y when Vincent stopped.

"Serena, try this one. Didn't you say you liked this style?"

She froze, eyes locked on the vintage dress.

A couple weeks ago, she'd shown him one just like it. Back then, it would've meant something.

Now? Nothing.

Still, she didn't bother choosing another. Let him think he scored a win.

A few minutes later, a staffer was fluffing her gown, all bubbly.

"Miss Saun, you and your boyfriend must really be in love. This dress is perfect on you. The photos will be gorgeous."

Before Serena could react, another girl leaned in, voice low.

"Mr. Schit had a work emergency. He said to go ahead with your solo shoot—he'll do the couple shots later..."

Her smile was stiff, like she was ready to dodge flying objects. They'd clearly seen meltdowns here before.

Serena just nodded, chill and unreadable.

After the shoot, she caught a cab home—alone.

She hadn't even made it past the front door when a soft voice floated from the living room.

"Vincent, I can't believe I'm eating your cooking again after all this time."

He was at the table, slipping a shrimp into her bowl like it was totally normal. He turned—then froze when he saw Serena.

Took him a beat.

"Serena, this is Maggie. She ran into some trouble, so she's crashing here for a few days."

Maggie gave her a quick once-over, barely hiding it.

"You must be Vincent's girlfriend," she said sweetly. "He's talked about you. Sorry for the trouble. Oh, he made my favorite baked shrimp—come sit with us."

She stood, surrendering the seat across from Vincent and sliding in beside him like she never left.

Serena had thought this was just Vincent stuck in the past.

Now she saw it—birds of a feather.

"You two enjoy. I'm wiped. Going to bed."

She turned toward the bedroom—then stopped cold at what was behind the door.