THE MAIL THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING;

The morning air in Australia was breathtakingly beautiful, the kind that made the world feel calm and promising.

Sunlight streamed gently through the tall glass windows of my apartment, carrying with it the scent of fresh rain from the night before.

It was peaceful. Too peaceful.

And yet, inside my room, peace was the last thing I felt.

My bedroom was small but intimidating in its own way. Everything was designed in soft pink—from the walls to the bedspread, even the lampshade resting on the bedside table. It looked gentle, feminine, and warm… but to me, it sometimes felt suffocating. Like the walls were quietly watching me, waiting for a decision I kept avoiding.

I sat on my bed, my back resting against the headboard, my laptop balanced carefully on my lap.

My eyes were locked on the screen.

On the same message.

The same mail.

The same opportunity that had been staring at me for an entire week.

I swallowed slowly, my throat suddenly dry, then leaned closer to the screen and read the message again, my voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Dear Miss Ariana Blake,

We are pleased to inform you that after reviewing your portfolio and audition clips, Inkstarr Entertainment would like to offer you an opportunity to join our agency as an actress in the United States…”

My voice trailed off.

I stared at the words, blinking slowly, as if they might disappear if I looked away.

Inkstarr Entertainment.

One of the biggest talent agencies in America.

They wanted me.

A shaky breath escaped my lips.

What was wrong with me?

This was a golden opportunity. The kind people prayed for. The kind people fought for. The kind people spent their whole lives chasing.

And here it was—placed right in front of me like a gift wrapped in gold.

Being an actress had always been my dream. Since I was a little girl, I had imagined myself standing in front of bright cameras, performing on television, making people laugh, cry, and feel something real.

I wanted the world to see my talent.

To hear my voice.

To know my name.

So why was I hesitating?

Why couldn’t I just reply to the email?

It had been seven days. Seven long days since the message arrived in my inbox. Seven days of staring at it, rereading it, and closing my laptop without answering.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling slightly.

Maybe it was because the offer was in America.

America.

The word alone made my chest tighten.

America carried too many memories.

Sad memories.

Happy memories.

Memorable memories.

Painful memories.

Everything.

My hand slowly drifted down to my wrist, where a faded golden bracelet rested against my skin.

I touched it gently, tracing the worn edges with my thumb.

Six years.

It had been six years since I received this bracelet. Six years since I promised myself I would remove it one day. Six years since I walked away from the person who gave it to me.

And yet… it was still there.

I never took it off.

Not even once.

The thought of him made my chest ache in a way I hated.

Because I believed he had moved on. Just like I had.

Our breakup had been necessary. It was for our own good. That was what I told myself every day. That was what I forced myself to believe.

But every time his name crossed my mind…

I suddenly felt weak.

My heart beat faster.

My breath grew uneven.

And my memories refused to stay buried.

Before I could sink deeper into those thoughts, the door to my room burst open loudly.

I flinched.

Jason stepped inside, his presence filling the room instantly. He was still wearing his workout outfit, his black tank top clinging to his chest, his hair slightly damp with sweat.

He looked tired—but energetic at the same time.

I quickly closed my laptop, trying to hide the screen.

“You’re back, babe,” I said, forcing a small smile.

He nodded once as he shut the door behind him. Without saying anything, he walked toward the closet, pulled out a towel, and draped it around his neck.

Then he spoke.

“You’re staring at the mail again, aren’t you?”

My smile faded into something softer.

I didn’t answer.

Jason turned around and walked toward me slowly. When he reached the bed, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss against my lips.

Warm. Familiar. Real.

Then he moved away and sat on the chair opposite me, resting his elbows on his knees, the towel hanging loosely around his neck.

“Don’t let your emotions fool you,” he said calmly. “This is what you’ve always wanted. And now you’ve got it served to you on a platter.”

He paused.

“Inkstarr Entertainment wants you. One of the biggest agencies in the United States.”

My fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the blanket.

“Is this about Adrian?”

My heart skipped.

“C’mon, babe,” I said quickly, forcing a laugh. “It’s not about him. It’s just that America brings a lot of memories… a lot.”

I looked away, staring at the window.

“And besides,” I continued softly, “I’m doing well here in Australia.”

Jason let out a short, mocking laugh.

“You call what you’re doing well?”

His words hit harder than I expected.

“C’mon, Ariana. This isn’t working. We have to aim higher. We have to think about our future.”

He leaned forward, his voice growing more serious.

“And this modeling job you’re doing here? It’s not going to build the future we’re dreaming about.”

Silence filled the room.

“What can build that future,” he continued firmly, “is accepting that proposal from Inkstarr.”

I swallowed slowly.

Because deep down… I knew he was right.

My modeling job barely paid enough to cover rent, food, and bills. Some months were harder than others. Some days, I skipped meals just to make sure the electricity stayed on.

And maybe—just maybe—accepting Inkstarr’s offer was the only way to build the life I truly deserved.

Jason’s voice softened suddenly.

“Do you still love Adrian?”

My body froze.

The question landed like thunder in my chest.

“Where is this coming from?” I asked, forcing a laugh, though my voice sounded shaky. “Is that a joke? C’mon, Jason. It’s been six years. Six whole years since I broke up with Adrian.”

He didn’t smile.

“Just answer the question,” he said quietly.

The room felt smaller.

Hotter.

Heavier.

Slowly, I stood up from the bed and walked toward him. My legs felt weak, but I forced them to move. When I reached him, I wrapped my arms gently around his neck and leaned down.

Then I kissed him.

Not a quick kiss.

Not a stolen kiss.

But something real.

Something deliberate.

When I pulled back, I smiled softly.

“There’s only one man I love,” I said gently. “And that man is you, Jason Reed.”

His face relaxed instantly.

A warm smile spread across his lips as he wrapped his arms around my waist and rested his head against my chest.

“I love you, Ariana,” he whispered.

I gently rubbed his hair, staring at the wall behind him.

My mind drifted.

Did I really mean what I just said?

Jason had always been there for me. Especially when I first arrived in Australia, alone and scared, with nowhere to go. He helped me find a place to stay. He supported me when I had nothing.

I owed him everything.

I was grateful.

So why did my words suddenly feel… heavy?

Why did they feel like a lie?

I exhaled slowly.

Ariana, I told myself firmly. Adrian is in the past. Jason is your present. And your future.

I closed my eyes.

Then opened them sharply.

“Alright,” I said.

Jason lifted his head immediately.

“I will accept the Inkstarr proposal,” I continued. “And we’ll go back to the United States.”

He pulled away from me quickly, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Are you serious, babe?”

I nodded.

“That’s what you want,” I said softly. “And also… what I want.”

The excitement on his face was instant.

He jumped to his feet and grabbed my face, pressing kisses against my lips.

One.

Two.

Three.

He looked happier than I had seen him in months.

He was tired of living here. Tired of struggling. Tired of barely surviving.

And now, finally, he saw a way out.

He saw freedom.

He saw money.

“Oh baby,” he said excitedly, pacing around the room. “You are one in a million. Very soon we’re going to be swimming in money.”

He laughed loudly.

“And I’ll soon be called the husband of the famous actress, Ariana Blake.”

I forced a small laugh.

“What do you think?” he asked proudly.

I smiled weakly.

“Right,” I said.

*****

A few minutes later, I sat back on the bed and reopened my laptop. My heart was beating fast as I typed my reply.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a second.

Then I took a deep breath.

And clicked.

“Send.”

I dropped the laptop beside me and rested my head on the pillow. My chest rose and fell slowly as I inhaled and exhaled.

It was done.

There was no turning back now.

I closed my eyes.

Silence filled the room.

Then—

My phone started ringing.

My eyes snapped open instantly.

The sound echoed loudly in the quiet room.

I reached for the phone and stared at the screen.

An international number.

My heart began to race.

“Inkstarr?” I whispered.

I answered the call and pressed the phone to my ear.

“Hello?” I said.

Silence.

A strange, heavy silence.

“Hello?” I repeated.

Still nothing.

Then—

I heard it.

A male voice.

Deep.

Smooth.

Controlled.

“Good day,” he said calmly. “I am calling from Inkstarr Entertainment. Am I speaking to Ariana Blake?”

My breath caught in my throat.

That voice.

It sounded familiar.

Too familiar.

“Hello?” he said again.

“Yes,” I replied quickly, my voice sharp with tension. “This is Ariana Blake.”

“Very good,” he continued professionally. “We have received your mail, and we are glad to have you. We also understand that you are not presently in the United States. When will you be available for an interview?”

“Anytime,” I said immediately.

“Very well. What about this weekend? Our agency will be honored to arrange your flight.”

“Okay,” I said, nodding quickly.

“I will inform you if there are any adjustments,” he said politely. “Have a good day.”

The call ended.

Silence returned.

“Shit,” I whispered.

I dropped my head back onto the pillow, staring at the ceiling, my heart pounding loudly in my chest.

His voice echoed inside my mind.

Too familiar.

Too soft.

Too deep.

My fingers slowly tightened around the bedsheet.

It’s him.

It has to be him.

Adrian Carter.

My first love.

My past.

My heartbreak.

“Oh no,” I whispered, my voice trembling.

“This isn’t happening.”