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“George…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. But before she could find the right words, he let out a breath and gave her hand a quick squeeze.

“Forget it,” he said, forcing a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We’ve had a good day. Let’s not ruin it.”

Myst nodded, though the knot in her chest only tightened.

They sat there, side by side, watching the river flow by as the sun dipped lower in the sky.

The air between them wasn’t heavy exactly, but it wasn’t light anymore either.

And for the first time all day, Myst felt the weight of the distance between their worlds pressing down on her shoulders.

The gentle hum of the elevator was almost hypnotic as Myst leaned against George’s shoulder, his arm casually draped around her.

The day had worn them out in the best way possible.

She could still taste the salt from the fish and chips on her lips and hear his laughter as she’d fumbled a rugby term.

“Scrum” still sounded like something out of a pirate novel to her.

“Bet you didn’t think your tour guide skills would be this bad, huh?” she teased, nudging him with her elbow.

“Bad? They were abysmal,” George shot back with a grin. “I reckon those Crown Jewels are still shaking from the nonsense you spouted about them.”

“Hey! I said they were probably cursed. That’s valid speculation.”

“Sure it is,” he drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm, though his smile softened the jab.

The doors dinged open, and they stepped into the plush hallway leading to her suite.

Myst fiddled with the keycard in her hand, trying to push away the creeping dread that had been threatening to resurface since that call earlier.

This was supposed to be their escape, wasn’t it?

A stolen day in London where she wasn’t Myst, international pop star, but just a woman enjoying time with a man who made her laugh until her stomach hurt.

“How much do you wanna bet Jessie’ll be waiting for us?” Myst joked lightly, though her heart wasn’t quite in it.

“Wouldn’t put it past her,” George replied. His tone was light, but there was a flicker of something else in his expression, concern, or maybe weariness. Myst couldn’t tell anymore.

As soon as the door swung open, her cousin’s unmistakable figure was revealed, pacing the living room rug like a coiled spring. Jessie’s pixie-cut hair with its signature blue streak caught the dim lighting, and she stopped mid-step when she saw them.

“Well, speak of the devil,” Myst muttered under her breath, plastering on a smile. “Jess, you’ve got impeccable timing as always.”

“Don’t start with me,” Jessie shot back, her voice clipped. Her phone was clutched tightly in one hand, and the look on her face set off alarm bells in Myst’s chest. “We need to talk. Now.”

“Hello to you too,” Myst deadpanned, shrugging out of her coat and tossing it onto the couch. She glanced at George, who gave her a questioning look, but she tilted her head toward the bedroom door, a silent signal for privacy.

“Give me a minute?” she asked softly.

“Yeah, sure.” George hesitated, then stuffed his hands into his pockets and wandered toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. He didn’t press, but she felt the weight of his gaze on her back as she followed Jessie into the adjoining room.

“Okay, what’s the crisis this time?” Myst asked, crossing her arms as Jessie practically shoved the phone into her face.

“Look at this,” Jessie snapped. The screen displayed a glaring headline from CelebNation: “ Pop Princess Myst Spotted with Mystery Man—Her Bit of Rough?

“ Below it was a gallery of photos, clearly taken without their knowledge.

One showed George laughing mid-bite of fish and chips, another captured Myst leaning into him on the bench by the river.

They looked… happy. Which only seemed to make the headline sting more.

“Are you kidding me?” Myst groaned, pushing the phone away like it physically burned her. “They’re making it sound like he’s some… random fling or something.”

“That’s exactly my point!” Jessie hissed, lowering her voice but not her intensity.

“This is already everywhere. By tomorrow, every outlet will be running with it, spinning God-knows-what stories about you two. And if you keep parading around like this…” She trailed off, gesturing vaguely but urgently, “It’s just going to get worse. ”

“Parading around?” Myst repeated, her voice rising before she reeled herself back in. She pinched the bridge of her nose, willing herself to stay calm. “We were literally having lunch, Jess. It’s not like we announced an engagement.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Jessie’s tone softened slightly, though her concern remained razor-sharp.

“You know how this works. Your ‘single’ image is part of the brand, Myst. Whether we like it or not, this could blow up in ways we can’t control.

You need to lay low for a bit. Maybe stop being seen with him in public altogether. ”

“Of course. Just… hide him away somewhere, right?” Myst’s words dripped with bitterness even as she knew Jessie wasn’t wrong. The walls felt like they were closing in around her, and suddenly, all she wanted was to rewind to earlier that afternoon when things had felt so simple.

“Please don’t make this harder than it has to be,” Jessie urged, placing a hand on her arm. Her pale blue eyes, so much like Myst’s own, were filled with worry. “Just… think about it, okay?”

“Fine,” Myst muttered, though it felt anything but fine. She forced herself to nod, even as her heart sank under the weight of what she’d have to say next.

Dinner in the suite was quiet at first, the clinking of silverware filling the space as Myst pushed her food around her plate.

George sat across from her, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as if he could feel the storm brewing between them.

The tension was subtle but palpable, like the faint pressure in the air before a downpour.

“Alright,” he finally said, setting down his fork. “Out with it. What’s going on?”

Myst looked up sharply, startled by his bluntness, though she should’ve expected it. George wasn’t one to dance around things, part of what she liked about him, even if it made moments like these harder.

“Jessie saw some pictures of us online,” she began cautiously, each word feeling like it might tip the balance of their fragile peace. “She’s worried about how it’s going to affect… everything.”

“Everything?” George repeated, his accent curling around the word. There was no anger in his voice, but the hurt was there, threaded through his typically steady tone.

“She thinks we should avoid being seen together for a while,” Myst admitted, her voice barely above a whisper now. “At least until the attention dies down.”

“Right.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything.

When he finally spoke, his words were measured, careful.

“So, what? We just pretend this,” he gestured between them, “isn’t happening whenever we’re outside these walls? ”

“George, it’s not like that…”

“Isn’t it?” He let out a short breath, shaking his head. “Look, I get it. Your world’s complicated. But it’s hard not to feel like… like maybe I’m just something you’re trying to keep out of sight.”

“That’s not true,” she insisted, leaning forward, her hands gripping the edge of the table.

“Maybe not you,” he conceded quietly. “But this whole… machine around you. I get the feeling it’s going to grind me in the gears.”

She had no answer to that.

The balcony door slid open with a soft scrape, letting in the crisp London night air.

Myst stepped out first, barefoot and wrapped in an oversized cardigan that swallowed her delicate frame.

George followed quietly, his broad shoulders nearly filling the doorway as he ducked slightly to step outside.

He carried two mugs of tea, steam curling upward into the chilly darkness.

“Figured this might help,” he said, handing one to her.

“Thanks.” Her fingers curled around the warm ceramic, grateful for the excuse to hold onto something steady. The tension from dinner still sat between them like an unwelcome guest, neither of them sure how to ask it to leave.

They settled onto the cushioned bench tucked against the railing, their knees brushing as they adjusted to fit.

Below them, the Thames shimmered under the city lights, its surface restless and alive.

For a moment, neither spoke. It was easier to focus on the world beyond, on the hum of distant traffic, the glow of passing boats, than on the fragile quiet growing between them.

“London’s pretty at night,” George said finally. “Makes you forget all the chaos for a bit.”

“Yeah,” Myst murmured, tracing the rim of her mug with her thumb. “If only it were that easy to forget everything else.”

His gaze shifted to her, searching her profile as she stared out at the water.

Her long hair spilled over her shoulder, catching faint silver highlights from the moon above.

She looked otherworldly, like someone who belonged to the stars rather than sitting beside him on a borrowed balcony chair. And yet, here she was. With him.

“Can I say something?” His tone was careful, almost too careful.

“Of course,” she said, turning toward him. The sincerity in her pale blue eyes made his chest tighten, though he wasn’t sure if it was from comfort or fear.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, the tea forgotten in his hands.

“I’m trying, Myst. I really am. But…” He hesitated, jaw working as he searched for the right words.

“Your world, it’s just so... loud. Cameras, headlines, people constantly watching.

It’s not like anything I’ve dealt with before.

And sometimes, I wonder if I’m cut out for it. ”

“George…” Her voice softened, but he shook his head gently, needing to finish.

“I don’t mean I want to walk away or anything,” he clarified quickly, his accent thickening with his urgency.

“It’s just, I’ve spent my whole life on rugby pitches, where things are simple.

You train hard, you play hard, and what matters is what you bring to the field.

All this other stuff… I feel like I’m fumbling every day, and I hate it. ”

“Fumbling?” A small smile tugged at her lips despite the weight of his confession. “That doesn’t sound like the George Dennis I know. You’re practically rugby royalty back home, remember?”

“Yeah, well,” he said dryly, “turns out being able to tackle blokes twice my size doesn’t help much when it comes to dodging paparazzi.”

She laughed softly, the sound lightening the tension just enough to let her lean closer, close enough for her knee to press more firmly against his.

“You’re doing better than you think,” she said, her voice gentle now.

“Trust me, this world isn’t easy for anyone.

Half the time, I don’t know if I’m handling it right either. ”

“Could’ve fooled me.” He gave her a sidelong glance, lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “You make it look effortless.”

“Effortless?” She snorted, shaking her head. “George, I spend most days terrified I’m going to mess it all up. My career, my relationships… you. Especially you.”

“Me?” His brows furrowed, genuinely surprised.

“Yes, you,” she said, meeting his gaze directly.

There was no hiding behind humor now. “You have no idea how scared I am that all of this,” she gestured vaguely to the skyline, the invisible pressures hanging over them, “is going to push you away. That I’ll lose you because of… because of who I have to be out there.”

“Hey.” He set his mug down on the ground before reaching for her hand. His fingers closed around hers, warm and grounding. “You’re not going to lose me, alright? I’m stubborn, remember? Takes more than a few tabloid headlines to scare me off.”

“Even if they call you my ‘bit of rough’?” she teased lightly, though her voice wavered.

“Especially that.” His grin broke through then, lopsided and endearing. “I’m not exactly polished, am I?”

“Not even close.” She laughed again, the sound softer this time, but real.

For a while, they sat like that, their hands entwined, the river below carrying their silence like a melody. It wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but it was enough. Enough to remind them why they were here, despite everything pulling at them.

“One day at a time?” she asked quietly, her thumb brushing over his knuckles.

“One day at a time,” he agreed, squeezing her hand. Still, as they turned back to the view, both felt the weight lingering in the background, the understanding that love, however strong, wouldn’t erase the challenges ahead. But tonight, they’d chosen to try. And for now, that was enough.