Lin Yuyan prided herself on being able to fake anything—smiles, strength, even love.
But faking normalcy while pregnant was a new kind of hell.
The nausea came in waves, like rogue tides crashing through her scenes without warning. Her back ached. Her appetite vanished. But still, she showed up every day on time, in full costume, lips painted, lines memorized.
No one knew.
And she planned to keep it that way.
"Cut!" Director Shen called. "Yuyan, let's try that scene again—this time, slower. More haunted."
Yuyan nodded. Her co-star offered her a bottle of water between takes. She accepted it with a tight smile, sipping just enough to wet her lips before they called action again.
Her chest throbbed. Her skin had grown more sensitive—especially around her bust. She couldn't wear the tight corset costume without flinching. The makeup girl noticed.
"You okay?" she asked softly. "You look kinda pale."
"Just a stomach bug," Yuyan lied smoothly. "I've been pushing too hard."
"Want me to bring ginger candy or something?"
Yuyan shook her head. "Don't fuss over me."
She couldn't afford kindness. Kindness cracked her walls.
Later that afternoon, the scene required her to run barefoot down a rainy alley while crying. After the third take, she collapsed onto a chair, barely able to catch her breath. Her vision swam.
"Someone get her water!" Shen snapped.
Yuyan waved them off. "I'm fine."
But someone else wasn't buying it.
Lemin.
He appeared on set uninvited, arms crossed as he watched her stagger to her feet.
After filming wrapped, he followed her to her trailer. "You're not fine," he said.
She ignored him, removing her muddy shoes.
"You're sick," he added. "Or something else."
She didn't respond. He stepped closer.
"I asked around. You've canceled three press appearances. You barely eat. You look like you're in pain half the time. What is it?"
"I'm busy," she said. "I don't have time for your concern."
His jaw clenched. "Is it Luchen?"
That name hit like a slap.
"You think everything wrong with me is because of him?"
"Isn't it?" Lemin's voice dropped. "He's not who you think, Yuyan. He's never been. The moment you see that—"
She cut him off. "Get out."
"Not until you admit something's wrong."
She turned to him then, eyes sharp. "Even if something were wrong, it wouldn't be your business. You don't get to act like a savior now."
He stepped forward. Too close. "Maybe I wouldn't have to if you stopped lying to everyone—including yourself."
Yuyan's hand trembled slightly at her side. She forced it still.
"Out," she repeated.
After a long beat, Lemin left. But not before glancing back at her abdomen with a look she didn't like. Suspicion. Calculation.
She locked the door and sagged against it, breathing hard.
Then her phone rang.
Luchen.
She didn't answer.
Another text buzzed in: You fainted last shoot. Shen told me. Are you okay? I'm coming to the set tomorrow.
Her hands gripped the phone like a lifeline. Then she slowly typed back:
Don't come.
But she knew him. He would come anyway.
And worse—he would look at her. Closely. Carefully. The way he did when trying to read between her silences.
She had to hold it together.
Just a few more weeks.
Just until she figured out if she was keeping the baby—or walking away from all of this.
From both of them.
From everything.
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