CeCe never cared for lavish dressing rooms. The one assigned to her was spacious and grand but it was also crowded with chatter, distractions and unnecessary drama. So when Ms. M offhandedly mentioned that a smaller room in the corner of the set was still unclaimed, CeCe didn’t hesitate to move in. It wasn’t humility, just strategy.

  Giving up the bigger space for another veteran actor gives an impression that she is easy to work with. No diva antics only pragmatism.

  More importantly she needed to protect her image. In this industry perception was everything and keeping a low profile would only help her both in her career and in her pursuit of Philip.

  There was still a long way to go so for now she’d train in silence and build her strength.

  Ironically, it was that very seclusion that led to this moment.

  “—I just don’t get it. How did she land the lead role?”

  CeCe’s brows lifted. Oh?

  The voices were hushed, laced with wariness and hesitant caution as they stood just outside the door unaware that this quiet corner now belonged to her.

  “Didn’t she only have a few supporting roles before? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Maybe she has backstage."

  A sharp inhale. “No way. If she did, wouldn’t she have gotten a lead role way sooner?”

  “...Or she just got one now?"

  Silence. A loaded silence. The kind that dripped with unsaid words.

  CeCe took a slow sip through the straw. She knew exactly what they were implying.

  Isn’t it just an overly generous patron? Some old guy pulling the strings.

  Her lips curled.

  She didn’t stiffen nor did she storm out of the dressing room. Instead, she slowly strolled to the door and leaned against the frame, biting her straw— amused.

  The ladies were startled, eyes widening as they finally noticed her. The color drained from their faces in real time.

  “Oh, don’t stop now.” She said lightly. “I was just getting to the good part.”

  The two women froze.

  One had her mouth slightly open, caught mid-breath. The other clutched her phone like a lifeline her fingers whitening around the case. Neither dared to look at each other as if confirming their shared humiliation would make it worse.

  “Go on.” She encouraged, tilting her head just slightly. “I’d hate to interrupt such...insightful analysis.”

  The one with the phone let out a nervous laugh, too high-pitched to be anything but forced. “Oh— CeCe, we weren’t— um, we were just—”

  CeCe lifted a brow.

  “Just?”

  Silence stretched between them.

  The other woman, the one who had stayed silent until now finally found her voice. “It was just a misunderstanding.” She said quickly, shaking her head. “You know how people are.”

  CeCe hummed. “Oh, I know.”

  She let her gaze drift lazily over them. Watching the way they shifted on their feet, struggling to come up with a way out.

  Then, she leaned in just enough for them to catch the quiet amusement in her voice. “But between us,” she murmured, voice dipped in mock secrecy. “If I did have a backstage, would that mean you should start packing now?”

  The way their eyes widened was almost comical.

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  CeCe let the silence hang just long enough to watch them squirm. Then she sighed as if suddenly losing interest.

  “But hey,” she said, taking another sip of her coffee. “Who am I to hold a grudge?”

  Relief flickered across their faces,too soon.

  “After all,” she mused, tapping a manicured nail against the cup. “It’s not like I’m actually the type to, I don’t know...mention things to the right people?” She glanced at them from beneath her lashes, eyes full of mischief. “Or maybe the wrong ones."

  Their nervous smiles froze in place.

  CeCe almost felt bad. Almost.

  But then, wasn’t it funny? How quick people were to run their mouths when they thought she wasn’t around but only to turn spineless the moment she faced them?

  Before either woman could respond, someone strode into the hallway drawing all eyes their way.

  A few members of the crew stepped in, an assistant director, a set coordinator and one of the writers. Their chatter dying as they took in the tension hanging thick in the air.

  “What’s going on here?” the assistant director asked. His gaze flitted between CeCe and the two women.

  CeCe blinked slowly, her delicate appearance is a picture of quite grace. Then with a soft, almost sorrowful smile, she turned to them eyes shimmering with unspoken sadness.

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” she murmured, shaking her head as if to brush it off. “Really.”

  Her expression remained composed but the smallest details betrayed her. The subtle tightening of her fingers around her coffee cup, the faint parting of her lips as if caught between words and the delicate flutter of her lashes as though she were bravely holding herself together.

  A portrait of quiet resilience.

  The set coordinator frowned, his gaze settling on the two women. “It doesn’t look like nothing.”

  One of the writers, a sharp-eyed woman, glanced between CeCe and the others. Something must have clicked because her lips pressed into a thin line. “Did something happen?”

  “No, really.” CeCe insisted in all graciousness and understanding. “I get it. People have their opinions.”

  She let the tension linger just long enough.

  Then with a gentle blink, she added, “I’d hate to think it’s about me. I wouldn’t take it personally, of course. But... I’d be so sad if people thought I didn’t deserve this role.”

  A soft laugh escaped her lips, delicate, self-deprecating and perfectly calculated.

  “But I suppose I can’t blame them. I’m sure they have their reasons and I do understand, really."

  The girls faltered.

  “It’s just the way the industry works after all."

  The room fell into silence.

  The assistant director and the others exchanged glances their expressions turning cold. Slowly, their gazes settled on the two women who were visibly withered under the weight of their stares.

  The one clutching her phone fidgeted, color draining from her face while the other lady who had started it all, curled her hands into fists.

  “I—I’m sorry.” The lady with a phone blurted, her voice cracking. “I didn’t mean—I shouldn’t have—”

  Humiliation flashed in her glassy eyes before she spun on her heel and fled, her face burning.

  The remaining woman stood there frozen her lips parting soundlessly before she swallowed and lowered her head.

  “I’m sorry.” she whispered.

  CeCe regarded her for a moment before exhaling softly.

  “It’s alright.” She said, gentle and forgiving. “Don’t worry.”

  The woman looked up desperate to believe her words but then she hesitated.

  Because despite the reassurance in CeCe’s tone her eyes still held a trace of something... wounded.

  A flicker of sadness.

  A quiet pain left unspoken as if she couldn’t bear to make a fuss about it.

  Guilt darkened the woman’s expression.

  Someone sighed. Another shook their head. The tension shifted, not toward CeCe but for her.

  How awful, they all seemed to think. To finally get an opportunity only to become the target of whispers?

  And yet she was handling it so gracefully.

  As CeCe smiled gently at the room, warmly accepting the murmured reassurances and quiet support, Ms. M, who had been watching everything unfold with an unreadable expression, finally exhaled.

  Then a thought crossed her mind—

  The girl was good.

  With that level of poise, that instinctive command of a scene, it would be a waste if she weren’t in this industry.

  Indeed, she was in the right profession.

  ***

  CeCe barely makes it through the rest of the shoot.

  She does everything right, smiling when needed, nodding at the right moments and playing her part to perfection. She gives it her all in every scene determined to prove she belongs here. But the second she steps into the privacy of her tiny apartment, all that effort crashes down on her.

  With a tired sigh, she collapses onto her bed, limbs sprawled as exhaustion settles deep in her bones.

  First day of taping, and they had already made her sprint in full police gear under the sweltering heat. She hadn’t held back either, in every chase, every fall and every sharp turn because that’s just who she is. No matter how much she complained in her head but when the cameras rolled, she gave it her all.

  She winced as she stretched out her legs. If she had managed to catch Philip’s attention by now, would she still be pushing herself this hard? Would she still be out here, bruising her knees for a paycheck?

  “Ugh.”

  Grabbing a pillow, she smacked herself with it.

  “I should’ve said something more sophisticated.” She mumbled into the fabric, kicking her feet. “Something sharp, something… clever.”

  CeCe stared at the ceiling, her mind drifting.

  After a moment she slowly sits up, her eyes darkening with realization.

  “Why am I trying so hard to sound refined?”

  She turns to the mirror, studying her own reflection.

  “I’m not elegant. I’m not well-read. I’m not some deep thinker.”

  Then with a slow, deliberate flick of her hair, she smirks.

  “But I am gorgeous.”

  And that’s more than enough.

  It’s time for Plan B.