....
Silence had fallen after the talk between Regal and Gwendolyn.
The drift of their dialogue had carried away from the calculations to random stuff, and they had beco two individuals sunk in thought, even if only for the mont.
Regal pushed back from his chair and stood up, exhaling. Then he reached his arms overhead and stretched them. His shoulders were stiff from sitting too long.
Gwendolyn had taken his chair and was laboring over the sa file he had been reading just before. He could see the very effort it took her not to purse her lips in disapproval.
After having all the numbers that make clear just how much he had achieved explained to her, it still felt a bit surreal at tis to her....
The soft thud of approaching footsteps broke the quiet.
From the hallway, Rock entered, bearing a bundle of papers stacked so high they almost blocked his face.
He had several pens - blue, black, and red - tucked between his fingers like darts. He walked over and put all of it on the dining table.
Gwendolyn raised a brow as she looked up from the file. "What's all this about?"
"No clue madam." Rock said simply. "Was told to bring them."
Regal moved nearer. "I am considering rewriting the script for [Harry Potter]."
Gwendolyn paused.
?..?In disbelief, her eyes squinted just slightly. She didn't respond right away. Instead, she studied him for a beat, trying to understand the source of such a statent.
That's absurd, was her first instinct.
It wasn't a question of his talent - that was never in doubt.
The problem was when it was happening. The project was almost finished with pre-production. To change it then - especially to add new actors or make changes to the script - was so complicated that it begged the question.
Why now?
The almost-finished project had so many moving parts that almost any change, whether big or small, would have to force so other part to shift for the whole thing to hold together.
So, changing the foundation now ans,
Did he have a new idea?
For creators, there was always a better version - yes - but that can also be the trap and, sohow, the start of their downfall.
An endless slope is perfection. When or where to stop is what makes a creator.
Nonetheless, she cannot recall Regal ever having such predicants for as long as she can rember.
Gwendolyn made the decision to wait since she could see that her boyfriend had not yet finished speaking.
Regal returned to his seat, more gently this ti, and rubbed his temples for a second. Then he looked at her–
"Gwen, I... last night... I am not sure if it was a nightmare or not." He said, quiet as a mouse.
Gwendolyn asked. "Not sure?" and tried to interpret him accurately as he did the topic he knew she was anticipating.
"Right...." Regal began, nodding to himself, and contemplating his slight mixed up revelation. "It was a dream about the world of Harry Potter, and at the sa ti it felt vivid, it felt... lived."
Tilting her head, she observed him intently. "...for months, you have been thinking about it non-stop. Your brain might have just stitched it together, and it's not impossible that that is the case."
"Yeah. But it wasn't like that," Regal said, his voice unsteady, dramatic not at all. "It wasn't random. I was, uh, conscious. Completely. I rember every mont–"
"How even Harry felt in those monts. The fear. The choices. It didn't feel like a story. It felt like... mory."
He stared blankly and then exhaled. "And it stuck with . I can't ignore it now."
Gwendolyn didn't offer an imdiate response.
She had seen him obsessive before - about details, about pacing, about a shot that wasn't quite there.
However, this was unlike any other situation.
It wasn't about control or quality. It was sothing that felt personal, like an internal shift that he hadn't caught up to yet. It did feel like he was being controlled and was being shad for not achieving quality results.
They had called a doctor last night - sufficiently worried, Rock had taken it upon himself to do it without asking.
The man had arrived in the middle of the night, checked Regal's vitals, tossed out a couple of casual inquiries, and left without raising any red flags.
However, they had a complete consultation planned for later today.
Three in the afternoon.
Blood work. Neurological assessnts. Anything necessary.
And if that appointnt turned into a string of appointnts?
Postponing everything else was a given. That wasn't up for debate.
If Regal went down, the ship went with him.
Everyone knew that.
Directors were captains in this business - and she wasn't about to let the captain crash mid-voyage.
However, what really disturbed her was none of that.
What ate away at her, quietly and constantly, was sothing much simpler.
He was her man.
At this mont, she doesn't have a clue about how to assist him.
For years, Gwendolyn had built an armor around herself over the years - professionalism, control, detachnt when needed.
But being with Regal ant that the wall had cracks.
Deep ones.
Because for all his brilliance, his stubbornness, his unpredictable instincts - he was still just one man.
And if sothing was broken in him, and wasn't fixable, then none of it mattered - no films, no scripts, no studio shares.
Gwendolyn reached for the pen nearest to her and clicked it absentmindedly, her gaze still resting on him.
In his face, she could see it - that he wasn't exactly in this room with her. He was still part of that dream, no matter where it had taken him.
And that part... wanted to bring sothing back.
Maybe that was what genius looked like.
Or maybe it was sothing else.
She didn't know.
Yet, for now, she has remained. Keep everything steady. Hold the weight while he anders through whatever artistic tempest he is navigating.
Because it was the deal, correct?
He was a drear. And she was the one who made sure he had a place to land when the dream was done.
"...anyway, if there is one thing I actually gained after going through that nightmare." Regal said again, his voice softer now. "It was how I saw this story."
"The story is still the sa... but now, I am more clear than I have ever been about what I want to make."
He stopped next to her chair.
She sat without moving, nearly motionless, but her eyes - those brilliant green irises - stayed locked on his.
Her face didn't say much.
It was not only her eyes that were telling him a lot more; they were almost saying too much.
Questions. Trust. A quiet storm of emotion behind them that she wasn't putting into words.
Regal then, without breaking eye contact, bent down and put his hands gently on either side of her face.
His hands were warm on my body, a world suddenly made intimate.
"I promise." He murmured. "Our baby is going to be the most beautiful, most amazing girl in the world."
He kissed her forehead with the lightest of touches.
Next, he bent forward, putting his brow in contact with hers.
?!!Gwendolyn remained unmove.
She couldn't, not right now.
Sothing inside her was still trembling - subtle, like a string plucked once and still vibrating.
This man.
Her man.
Talking about their 'child' with the sa conviction he talked about a final act or a character's arc.
It was maddening and disarming in the sa breath.
And strangely - lovely.
It was not said for effect.
He ant it.
And she loved him for that, even if it made her apprehensive at tis.
"Hehe, my daughter is already the best. Just as she is now." Gwendolyn finally whispered.
Regal grinned, his forehead still pressed against hers. "Haa, that is how moms are, right? Loving their kids just as they are. But dads..." His breath fanned over her skin. "Dads always want their kids to be even more. Just a little more. But, maybe... she deserves a little of both.
There was a beat of silence.
Not awkward. Just full.
For them, [Harry Potter] had been always more than just a tale.
It wasn't just a script or a box office cash grab.
It was where their paths and worlds were t, walked, and rged.
It was the beginning of so many things - his first real work, her decision to embrace the madness of comfort called 'love' and, in the end, the enchanting monts that they constructed together.
Every draft. Every late-night rewrite. Every strange, wonderful mory.
Gwendolyn still rembered the night before the first volu's launch. They had stayed up late practicing the announcent, going over how to stage the questions for the press. She hadn't thought it would an all that much.
And yet... sohow, in the middle of that quiet night, watching him pace and revise, she had felt it.
A change was noted.
She had fallen for him - not with drama, not with certainty - but with a softness so gradual it caught her completely off guard.
Looking back now, she realised how small those monts were. And yet, those very monts had grown roots. They had been quiet, unpretentious, until they had turned one day into sothing real. Sothing you could touch. Worth holding on to.
They had co a long way since then. They had survived the confusion. They had survived each other. And now, just as the movie moved toward its beginning, sothing else between them stirred again - not yet identified, not yet comprehended, but without a doubt present.
And then, almost inevitably, ca the question...
"Who do you love more?" Gwendolyn asked, her voice thin but not uncertain. "Your madness for telling stories, or... the madness for ?"
Her arms circled around his neck, fingers light, not clutching.
Their foreheads still t.
Regal didn't hesitate.
"That is easy. It's you. Not even close."
There wasn't a flicker of doubt in him. And strangely, he didn't even flinch at how easily the words left his mouth.
If the old version of him - the boy who once believed cinema was the only thing he had ever needed - might have stared at him in disbelief.
But he wouldn't have understood.
Because for all the fire Regal had ever felt when a story locked into place, for every surge of triumph when a character finally breathed, for every battle won on set or page... none of it compared to this.
To her.
To this quiet, terrifying, beautiful thing he never thought he'd deserve. Sothing stronger than ambition. Sothing truer than obsession.
Soone who made him want more than just greatness.
And right now, she was sitting in front of him, wrapped around him, holding on just enough without needing to prove anything.
When he said it, Gwendolyn didn't break down.
She smiled faintly, eyes shimring - not from surprise, but from the way it still sohow felt like a miracle to be chosen.
She pulled him into a firm hug full of tightness and secureness.
She already knew the answer.
Of course she did.
But sotis, even the strongest woman wants to hear it - to be told, directly, plainly, without poetry or taphors, that she mattered more.
And he gave her that, without dressing it up.
They stayed like that, silent and still, for a few more seconds, just breathing.
Then Gwendolyn leaned back a little, brushing her face once as if that would erase the vulnerability that had slipped through.
Her voice returned to normal as she glanced over Regal's shoulder.
Rock was still standing nearby, in the exact sa position as before.
Stone-faced. Completely unmoved. At least, at first glance.
"Rock..." Gwendolyn's voice turned sheepish. "Sorry for shouting at you last night."
Her hands crossed awkwardly. Then, like a kid admitting guilt, she tugged her ears in that funny little apology gesture her mother used to make her do as a girl.
Rock looked at her.
For the first ti in the last fifteen minutes, she saw a flicker of sothing in his expression - he was surprised.
Not by the apology, but by her face.
The sincerity. Maybe the softness in it.
He turned around fast. Too fast.
"It's okay, madam." He said, voice a little tighter than usual.
"Thanks." Gwendolyn said, just as simply.
She didn't press. She knew that kind of response well. That was his version of - let's not talk about it again.
But then she couldn't help herself.
Her tone lightened as she glanced at Regal. "But hey, tell sothing, Rock. He just said he loves more than storytelling. That was real, right? You felt that too?"
Before Rock could answer, Regal cut in with a smirk that was sowhere between playful and poking. "What is he, your personal lie detector now?"
Gwendolyn shot him a look.
Not angry - just that flat, amused glance won have perfected over centuries. A quiet 'Really?' in visual form.
Regal raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright... just asking."
But then a strange quiet followed.
They waited. And waited.
And the answer didn't co.
Gwendolyn's brows pulled together faintly. She turned slowly, Regal following her gaze.
Rock was still standing exactly where he had been, stock-still, eyes ahead, back straight.
But now... sothing wasn't right.
Too still and rigid.
And when Gwendolyn leaned just slightly, adjusting her view, she caught the angle of his face - just enough.
A shimr.
At first she thought it was the dining light hitting his cheekbone. But it wasn't that.
It was unmistakable.
The edge of his eye. Damp. Unmoving.
He wasn't crying the way most people did.
No sniffling. No blinking. Just... standing there, as if his body refused to betray what he felt, but his eyes hadn't gotten the mo.
"Dude..." Regal's voice ca soft, half-joking, not cruel. "Are you crying, bro?"
Gwendolyn turned to him with a flick of heat in her gaze - not harsh, just pointed.
Not now.
Regal exhaled quietly. Yeah. He got it.
He stood, took a step closer to Rock, then turned - looping an arm lightly around Gwendolyn and dropping a kiss on her cheek, just quick.
"Okay." He said, half to her, half to Rock. "Sorry. I am done being stupid."
Then he raised his right hand to his throat - fingertips resting lightly on Adam's apple.
"I swear. I won't make her worry again. Promise."
And sothing in the room... settled.
What was happening here wasn't complicated.
Rock was worried.
Not just about Regal - about her.
Always about Gwendolyn.
His loyalty to her wasn't a question.
It never had been. He might have worked for Regal, followed him across two continents and three productions, but when it ca to Gwendloyn... Rock's center of gravity shifted.
Whatever his reasons... that was.
So when Regal had spiraled the night before, gone distant and then half-delirious over so dream that ended in a panic... Gwendolyn hadn't shown it.
She never showed it.
But Rock had noticed.
So had Regal.
And Rock - who could lift a cara rig in one hand and break a man's collarbone in the other, had done the only thing he could.
He had stood there.
Now, seeing her laugh again, seeing her back to herself... It was too much.
The dam didn't break. But it cracked.
Finally, Rock spoke.
Voice a touch low, but steady. "Okay. That wasn't a lie."
That was all he said.
But it was enough.
Regal laughed, a breath escaping like he hadn't realized he had been holding it.
"Haaa... of course it isn't."
Gwendolyn didn't say anything.
But now... She saw it now - what was behind all of this.
There was sothing comforting in the absurdity of it.
His bodyguard had turned into her guardian.
Her boyfriend into her compass.
And she, sohow, had beco the gravity that held both in place.
That day, Regal understood sothing he hadn't fully realized before.
You don't ss with Gwen.
Because behind her?
There is a mountain. A mountain in sneakers and a black t-shirt who doesn't say much but sees everything.
And if soone, sowhere, was foolish enough to cross her...
Well.
Regal almost felt bad for them.
Almost.
Because a small part of him hoped Rock would really lose his temper just once - just to remind the world what kind of loyalty looks like when it bleeds.
.
....
[To be continued...]
★─────⇌•★•⇋─────★
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