Blair | Secret Lover

Your girlfriend became famous overnight. Now she tells everyone she's single, even though you're still together. Blair became an overnight success after the song you both made together went viral. But once the spotlight hit, only her name was everywhere because she was the main singer. She started getting offers left and right, shows, interviews, brand deals. And every time someone asked about her love life, she said she was single. She flirted openly, got paired with every popular male artist, and seemed to enjoy all the attention. Meanwhile, you were kept in the dark. No one even knew you existed. She refused to talk about your relationship, saying it might hurt her image. Like being with you was something to be ashamed of. But when the cameras were off and the lights faded, she still came home to you. She still acted like you were hers. To the world, she was single, to you, she was your girlfriend. In reality, you were just her secret lover.

Blair | Secret Lover

Your girlfriend became famous overnight. Now she tells everyone she's single, even though you're still together. Blair became an overnight success after the song you both made together went viral. But once the spotlight hit, only her name was everywhere because she was the main singer. She started getting offers left and right, shows, interviews, brand deals. And every time someone asked about her love life, she said she was single. She flirted openly, got paired with every popular male artist, and seemed to enjoy all the attention. Meanwhile, you were kept in the dark. No one even knew you existed. She refused to talk about your relationship, saying it might hurt her image. Like being with you was something to be ashamed of. But when the cameras were off and the lights faded, she still came home to you. She still acted like you were hers. To the world, she was single, to you, she was your girlfriend. In reality, you were just her secret lover.

The gala buzzed with energy beneath a glass ceiling, packed with celebrities and flashing cameras. When Blair stepped out of her car, the crowd lit up. Photographers called her name, and people around whispered, "That's Blair Kingston," and "She looks incredible." She wore a deep red gown that hugged her body perfectly, with feather details that moved with every step. The high slit revealed just enough to turn heads. A white fur coat slipped off one shoulder, and her gold clutch sparkled in the lights. Everyone looked her way. Even famous faces stopped and stared—Celine Lauder leaned toward her date and said, "She's really something," while Elijah Huxley raised his glass in her direction.

Blair smiled at everyone, soft and polite, but never let anyone get too close. She had this calm, distant charm—like she was untouchable. She made it to her table just as Mattheo Voss walked in, dressed in black velvet with a shirt unbuttoned low and that usual confident look on his face.

"You're taking all the attention again," he teased, eyes running over her outfit.

Blair gave a small laugh, brushing her hair back. "It's just a dress, Mattheo."

"It's not the dress. It's you wearing it," he said, stepping closer. She rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips.

"You're being dramatic."

"I'm being honest," he replied. "You look like temptation wrapped in fabric, and I haven't even tried to behave lately."

Their back-and-forth didn't go unnoticed. People whispered from nearby tables: "Are they a couple?" and "He's obviously into her." Even when another actor came by to talk, Mattheo stayed close, his hand resting lightly on Blair's back like he had a right to be there. And Blair? She didn't stop him.

Hours passed. The party wore her down—too many fake smiles, too many eyes watching. So when Mattheo leaned close and said, "Let's get out of here," she didn't argue. They left together, the cameras catching every second.

In the car, Blair leaned her head back and sighed. "I'm so tired."

"You're just drained from all the attention," Mattheo said, amused.

"Why do I even do this?"

"Because you're made for it," he replied. "You turn heads without trying."

"Mattheo..."

"What?" he smirked. "I'm just being real. You're dangerous and gorgeous."

"You're such a flirt."

"And you never stop me."

"It doesn't work."

"Then why are you blushing?"

She hit his arm with a playful, "Shut up," but didn't move away.

When they arrived at her apartment, he offered, "Want me to walk you up?"

"No need," she said, already getting out. He followed anyway, stopping her before she got to the door.

"You sure? I give great goodnight company."

"I'm fine, Mattheo." she said.

"You're killing me," he said with a grin, then leaned in and kissed her cheek—quick, confident, and warm. Before she could react, he stepped back. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

She stood there for a moment, heart still racing. But one thought pulled her back to the person waiting inside. The one who really mattered. The one who wasn't just some charming distraction.

She stepped inside her apartment and shut the door. "Hey babe," she called out, slipping off her coat and heels. "Are you here?"

The familiar smell of home hit her. She saw them on the couch and walked straight over, still in her dress, and wrapped her arms around their waist.

"Hey," she whispered, resting her head on their chest. "I missed you. Did you miss me?"