Rewriting Our Stars Chapter 1

Five years into his career, Ashton Miller was an untouchable A-lister, the undeniable king of the industry. Everyone knew he had a secret love, a woman locked away in his heart. Through his rise from nothing to the dazzling heights of Hollywood, he had never forgotten her.

I was the one who walked with him through his darkest days. And I was the one who finally realized I was only ever cast as the Supporting Actress.

In the perfectly scripted romance of life, the Supporting Actress exists only to make the main couple's love story shine brighter.

But Ashton had once told me, "If the script says I can’t have you, then I’ll use every ounce of my power to tear up that script."

I had believed him.

* * *

Ashton was trending on social media again. Normally, for a superstar like him, dominating the headlines wasn't news. But this time was different. He was trending alongside Seraphina Vance, a rising starlet from the same agency.

Five years since his debut, he was like a once-in-a-generation comet. On the concert stage, he was pure blinding energy; on screen, he possessed an innate brilliance that had already won him an Academy Award at his young age.

Despite the fame, he had never been touched by scandal. His most viral photo was one taken right after he stepped off a massive concert stage. His silhouette was tall and lean. The crowd was a roar of screams. The spotlights hit only half his face, catching the gleam of sweat sliding down his jawline. His eyes were vibrant with raw energy, possessing a charm that could steal a person's soul. Yet, the other half of his face was steeped in shadow—cold, distant, and enigmatic as a chaste god, suggesting nothing could tempt him from his pedestal.

Half vivid splendor, half silent stoicism. He was the center of attention in any arena. They said Ashton was the brightest star in the northern sky: untouchable, uncatchable. You could only feel his presence from a distance—overwhelmingly beautiful, yet bone-chillingly cold.

The hashtag #AshtonSeraphina had a bright red "VIRAL" tag next to it.

It was a video from a press conference. Ashton had just abandoned his usual blockbuster rotation to sign onto an epic period romance script called The Queen’s Champion, playing opposite Seraphina, who was new to the acting world.

In the video, a reporter asked, "What is your favorite line from the script, Ashton?"

He chuckled softly. In the film, he plays the loyal general who commits his life to conquering territories for the Queen. He turned his head, casting his eyes down at Seraphina beside him. She only came up to his shoulder, but Ashton deliberately leaned down, assuming a posture of deep reverence, much like the young general half-kneeling before his sovereign in the script. His eyes were soft, and when he smiled slightly, they were breathtakingly affectionate.

He said:

"I am content to be the brightest gem in your crown. I desire only to conquer worlds so that your name echoes through history. I pledge to be your most loyal soldier, to circle you like the stars around the moon, remaining forever by your side. I offer everything I am, my young Sovereign."

The entire hall fell silent. Seraphina raised her eyes to meet Ashton’s, her gaze soft and rippling with emotion.

Screams erupted an instant later. Camera flashes strobed like lightning, and countless microphones were thrust forward by frenzied reporters.

The video froze in that moment.

The comments section was in overdrive. Even Ashton’s die-hard fans were beginning to celebrate.

"If this isn't love, I don't know what is!"

"The young Queen and her devoted General... who isn't shipping this?"

"That look in Ashton’s eyes... that’s pure, sweet devotion."

"After all these years, my boy finally found someone who makes him melt!"

...

I mindlessly traced my finger over the screen. It was frozen right where Ashton looked down, his eyes holding a galaxy of stars—a expression I had never seen before.

I let out a helpless sigh, but tears escaped. It had finally happened.

I had "stepped into this story" long ago, when I was fifteen, a sophomore in high school. To me, it felt like being trapped in a cheesy romance novel. Ashton was the male lead—the undisputed, incredibly talented young superstar. He was typically lazy and detached, but he would pour a lifetime of warmth solely onto the female lead, Seraphina.

It was a story of reconnecting. They knew each other from high school. Ashton was practically Hollywood royalty, a true blue blood. Seraphina was the transfer student, a delicate ballet dancer. According to the pattern I knew, in their senior year, Ashton’s family would suffer a massive tragedy. The young lord on his pedestal would be dragged down into the dirt. In his despair, he would be saved by Seraphina, preventing him from going dark. After various separations due to her career and studies, they would meet again years later, and Ashton would protect her as she blossomed in the entertainment industry. Their love story was destined to be celebrated by the whole world.

But when I came into the picture, Seraphina’s family moved her away much earlier than the plot dictated. She missed the entire downfall of the Miller family, leaving before Ashton could even confess his budding feelings.

I was the one who held that eighteen-year-old boy when he lost both his parents in a single night. I was the one who touched his thin spine and accompanied him slowly through that abyss of darkness. He had never been so helpless, weeping silently against my shoulder with red, swollen eyes, clinging to me like I was his last lifeline.

I saw him return to the spotlight. He was born for greatness, after all, and Hollywood quickly rediscovered him. I went to the premiere of his first film. I watched on the big screen as he turned in the rain, covered in blood and mud, his gaze as sharp as a knife. The audience around me gasped in collective shock at the raw power of it. I called him while he was walking the red carpet at an awards show. I said, "Ash, I saw it."

During his first major concert, I was right there in the front row. The entire arena was chanting his name, screaming for him. Countless LEDs lit up, declaring their love for "Ashton." I knew, right then, that he had never really been "my" boy. I was swallowed up by the crowd, smiling as I watched him blaze brilliantly center stage, while hot tears poured down my face before I could stop them.

I walked with him through the hardest times, but I knew his brilliant future didn't belong to me.

Ash.

Ashton probably didn't know that the novel The Queen’s Champion was actually based on something I wrote. I wrote of generals, of sovereigns, of strategy, and of love. But I had to watch him recite those declarations of devotion to Seraphina.

"I am your sharpest sword."

"Your Majesty, my heart’s devotion lies across this vast empire. Look and see for yourself."

There had been countless moments when I realized that no matter how long I stayed by Ashton’s side, that dazzling boy would never be mine. But I hadn't asked for much. I only wanted him to be happy and safe.

Ding. Cinderella's time was up. It was time to strip away the glory that didn't belong to me.

I slowly ate a bowl of porridge, staring blankly at the small pot of freesia on the windowsill for a long time. I returned to my room and packed everything I owned. It wasn't much; it fit perfectly into a single small suitcase.

I called Ashton’s cell. I called several times. On the third try, someone finally picked up. It was his assistant.

"Elara! Look, Ash is just changing into costume, he can't—"

The call was abruptly cut off, then I heard Ashton’s voice as he walked away from the noise, the sounds of the set fading into the distance. "Hello?"

I hadn't wanted to cry. But the moment his deep, smooth voice came through the line, a tear suddenly fell.

I tilted my head back, thinking about the ten years we had walked together. Scenes receded only to rush back like a tide. I thought of that line about circled stars and a destined path that couldn't be changed.

I composed myself and said, "Ash, I’m done. I'm leaving."

He froze. After a long pause, he spoke in his usual casual, detached tone. "Need to get away for a bit? Domestic or international? Leaving in a few days? Let Nick know, he’ll book your flight. Can you wait two days? I’ll have my manager reschedule my shoots, I'll clear some time to go with you. I heard there's a place with great scenery—"

The background noise around him started to swell again. Someone shouted, "Mr. Miller, we’re ready to shoot!" He ignored them.

I interrupted his rambling. I said, "No, Ash. I mean I’m leaving you."

I wiped the single tear from my cheek and whispered, "Goodbye, Ashton."

Silence for a heartbeat. Then I hung up. I have always been a coward. I was afraid he would hear the sob I couldn't hold back, and even more afraid he would let out a sigh of relief and say, "Okay."