The news of my date with Ollie last Friday spreads like wildfire through the studio. Even after a week has passed, almost everyone still whispers about it, expressing their sympathy for Celia and their hatred for me.

It doesn't help that Celia keeps dropping by the studio every day to check on the progress for her EP—which is highly unusual for her—all the while acting a little too friendly toward Ollie and me. Yesterday, she even brought boxes of Ollie's favorite chocolate brownie cakes for the whole studio. It's as if she's trying to prove to everyone how much of a saint she is.

I try to turn a deaf ear to my colleague's barbed comments. But after five straight days of hearing the same accusations, I'd be lying if I say they don't affect me the least bit. Knowing I shouldn't listen to them, I try to distract myself by focusing on my work.

Ollie and I only have one more week to finalize Celia's EP. Despite my growing suspicion toward Celia, I'm determined to prove to my haters that I'm not some untalented slut who simply gets to where I am through nepotism.

"Do you think about me? Do you think about . . ." I sing, pausing for a moment while my hands run across the piano in search of the G chord, "us? Do you think about all . . ." I try to remember the Am7 chord Ollie taught me a few weeks ago, but my mind hits a dead end.

I can strum all the chords of this song on the guitar like second nature. Unfortunately, Memories is a classic piano ballad—which means it doesn't sound as good with a guitar.

After striking a few false chords on the keyboard, I thump my forehead against the score on the music rack of the piano.

It's times like these I regret pretending to be sick every time my mom was about to drag me to piano lessons when I was a kid.

"So that's why that untalented slut got that project. She's been sleeping with Oliver all along." Jules' annoying voice reverberates in my mind, still haunting me even after days have passed.

Although I'm aware that what Jules said to her fellow evil princesses is absurd, a sliver of doubt seeps into my mind, slowly draining my confidence. I can't even remember a simple chord. What if Jules is right? What if I am an untalented slut? What if Celia only chose me because she wanted the publicity—

A knock on the door stops me from plummeting into my inner hell.

Clearing my throat, I put on my poker face. "Come in."

The door is pushed open, and Ollie greets me with a smile. "Hey. Ready to go?"

A glance at my watch tells me it's already 12.10 p.m., ten minutes past our regularly scheduled lunch date. "Shoot. I'm so sorry. Just give me a moment."

As I stride toward the large table across the room to pick up my things, Ollie saunters to the piano. "Hmm? You're still working on this one? I thought we agreed on the arrangement."

After a brainstorming session with the team yesterday, we decided to keep things minimalistic and place the focal point on Celia's emotive vocals. Ollie's lovely piano arrangement combined with the ethereal strings and soft drums I suggested adds more layers and depth to the simple romantic ballad. Yet I can't help but feel something is still missing.

"Yeah, but something just doesn't feel right, Ol." I stuff my laptop into my backpack before approaching him. "The song is supposed to be about wanting to relive some sweet, romantic moments, right? But whenever I listen to it, nothing sparks."

He crosses his arms, his lips pressed together in thought.

"And it's such a shame because this has the potential to be that classic love song." I plop onto the bench once more, facing the piano. "The thing is, we can't just add more grandeur orchestra again because one, it would be too crowded, and two, it would sound too similar to It's Always You. So . . ."

"The lyrics could use some tweaks, to be honest." Ollie steps behind me and digs his fingers into my tense shoulder muscles. "But you know that she-devil and her lyrics. We have to drag her to hell first before we can get her to change a single word."

I stifle a moan as he gently squeezes the back of my neck, his thumb making tiny circles at the base of my skull. Wow. He's getting better and better at giving massages! Did he take massage lessons or something? Maybe I should ask him about—

The uncanny sensation of being watched snaps me back from my reverie. As the fine hair on the back of my neck rises, I peek at the door.

A wave of relief floods through me when I find it to be closed. Stop being so paranoid, Vanessa.

Swallowing a small constriction in my throat, I focus on the song we're trying to polish. "But Celia said she wrote it from your perspective, Ol. So maybe—"

"My perspective?" he scoffs. "What kind of bullshit is that?"

I glance up at him, confused.

He rests his hands on my shoulders. "Look, I don't know if she genuinely thinks she knows me well enough to get into my mind. But if I were the one who wrote this song, I certainly wouldn't choose something like fate was just too cruel to us."

"Why not?"

"It's kind of irresponsible, don't you think? Blaming everything on fate. Sure, fate plays a role in how people meet and everything. But in the end, it's the people who make the choices." As I try to understand what he's trying to say, he adds, "It's just, when my relationship fails, I tend to reflect on what I've done. Not simply blaming it on fate."

Oh, yeah. Why didn't I think about it sooner? Considering Ollie's habit to blame himself for just about everything, it is unlikely for him to write that line.

"So how would you write it then?" I ask.

"I don't know. Just not like that," he answers with a nonchalant shrug, drawing a chuckle from me. "Hey, I'll sing it for you. Maybe it'll give you a new perspective."

"Good idea." I scoot over and pat the vacant space beside me on the bench.

Sitting next to me, Ollie stares at the score for a while before playing the song three semitones lower than my version earlier.

"From the first moment, I saw you
It was all that it took for me to fall, mm-hmm"

Although Ollie is one of the most talented pianists I've ever had the honor to meet, he's not a gifted singer by any stretch. But this time, the amount of pure sincerity and passion in his vocal delivery takes my breath away. It's as if he's pouring his heart and soul into the song, turning it into a subtle love confession of some sort.

"From the first moment we talked, I
I knew you'd be the light in my life, oh-oh"

The fond memory of the night we first had a real conversation at the Halloween party a little over five years ago flows into my mind like a movie, bringing a smile to my face. While his Magic Mike story still has me biting back a giggle, the recollection of his kindness prompts the sweetest kind of warmth to swell in my heart.

"But fate was just too cruel to us
And now we're worlds apart"

As the pre-chorus concludes, something inside me is moved. An almost unstoppable voice inside my chest crawls up my throat, demanding me to tell Ollie how much I love him by singing along to the song.

No, no, no, Vanessa. This isn't some teenage high school musical. Just enjoy the song in silence!

Still, by the time the three-beat pause ends, the persistent voice inside me slips out of my mouth. "Do you think about me?"

I clamp my hands over my mouth. Although we work in the same music industry, Ollie and I have different views when it comes to musicals. Unlike me, Ollie hates it when characters in movies sing their dialogue, calling it unrealistic and unnecessary. He's going to laugh at me, isn't he?

"Do you think about us?" Ollie replies, to my surprise.

Hmm? He's not even making some sarcastic jokes about it? Hesitation lingers in my mind, yet I lower my hands to my lap. "Do you think about all those times we've had?"

"All the memories." He passes me a smile.

I hold back a grin. "No matter bittersweet."

My inner choir girl comes to life, and I harmonize with him, "I want our love again, oh."

Ollie gives me the go-ahead nod, and I sing the next part by myself, "'Cause I think about you."

"I think about us."

"I think about all those times we've had."

Gazing into each other's eyes, we know exactly how the song should end—together in harmony.

"All the good times
When you're by my side
Will we ever love again?"

Ollie and I may not be professional singers. If we ever released an album, no one—not even my own parents—would buy them. Even so, our voices blend perfectly, and the song becomes . . . complete.

As Ollie ends the song with a rippling arpeggio, I clutch his arm and squeal, "Oh my God, it's supposed to be a duet!"

He lets out an amused chuckle. "Yeah. That does sound a lot better, doesn't it?"

"Wait a second." I gasp as a thought strikes me. "Do you think Celia planned it to be a duet?" As Ollie draws his head back in confusion, I explain, "You know, making it a puzzle you and I are supposed to crack together to bring us closer?"

The crease between his eyebrows deepens. "Why the heck would she do that?"

"Because . . . she's . . . trying to be nice?" I offer an awkward grin that soon falters into uncertainty.

Ollie clicks his tongue, a shade of vexation flitting over his features. "You gotta stop giving that she-devil the benefit of the doubt, Ness. Yes, she's scheming. But only for her own gain. If she planned this song to be a duet, she would say so."

I guess Sophia and Yuna are right, huh?

Pushing my suspicion toward Celia aside, I babble, "Anyway, who do you think Celia should collaborate with? Henry Stickles? Ooh! That would be a headline for sure." Ollie opens his mouth to protest, but I make a rainbow gesture with my hands and continue, "Celia's Exes Working Together. A Battle for the Princess' Heart?"

Ollie snorts with laughter. "Trust me. Neither I nor Henry wants to get back together with that she-devil."

"Yeah. But on the bright side, if Celia and Henry collaborate on this song, then maybe people will develop new theories about who she wrote the songs for and finally leave us alone."

"Hey." He takes my hand and rubs my palm with his thumb, his eyes softening with concern. "Just two weeks left. Hang in there, okay?"

"Mm-hmm," I assure him with a smile.

"Speaking of Valentine's Day." He releases my hand and scratches the back of his neck, his foot tapping the floor in a nervous rhythm. "You got any plans after the release party?"

A sense of déjà vu crashes over me, and the long-forgotten memory of the night we worked on Love Spell together two years ago slithers into my consciousness.

Due to the concussion that I got on that fateful Valentine's Day, my memory of what happened two weeks before that day was patchy. Up until a few seconds ago, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me whenever I dream about Ollie asking me out on a dinner date to Le Royal. But now I realize it wasn't just some absurd dream.

Now I realize everything was real.

"I don't have any plans," I say. "Why?"

He chews his cheek for a moment. "Do you wanna have dinner with me after the release party?"

"Have dinner with you?" I narrow my eyes and tease, "Or eat you?"

He chortles, his face lighting up with amusement. Mischief flickers in his eyes as he leans forward and curls his fingers under my chin, his thumb brushing my lower lip. "Well, I'd love to eat you—"

A knock on the door interrupts us just as our lips are about to touch. One look into each other's eyes is enough to figure out what the other is thinking.

We pull away from each other and sigh in disappointment. Getting caught kissing at work would only throw gasoline into the fire, and we both know we shouldn't do so.

As Ollie strides toward the door, I grab the score on the piano and get ready for our delayed lunch date. I'm about to stuff the papers into my backpack when Ollie opens the door and reveals Ian, the mailroom clerk. The papers I'm holding slip from my grasp and fall to the floor as I catch a glimpse of the envelope in his hand.

Oh, no. I desperately pray it isn't for me. But deep down, I have a bad feeling it is.

"Hi, sorry to interrupt." The blonde man cocks his head to the side and waves the envelope. "Got another mail for you, V."

An icy chill trickles down my spine as I warily approach him. My hands tremble when I take the envelope from him, but I manage to murmur my thanks. The rattling noise of Ian's mail cart being wheeled away from the rehearsal room I'm in fades into an echo as I stare at the words printed on the envelope.

To: Vanessa Hayes-Wong

From: Your Secret Admirer

The solid lump in my throat grows bigger with each second, slowly suffocating me from the inside. Pull yourself together, Vanessa. Everything's going to be okay. They're probably just going to slushie you again. It's not like they'll throw acid on your face or—

My eyes go wide in horror. They won't go that far, will they?

"Ness?" Ollie peeks at the envelope before he raises his eyes to mine and asks, "Is it . . ."

I nod, swallowing hard.

Muttering a soft curse, Ollie clenches his fists and runs out of the room. "Hey, new guy, wait!"

A sense of panic skitters through me when Ollie runs out of the room. As I chase after him, Ian stops in the middle of the hallway and looks over his shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"Where did you get that letter?" To my relief, there isn't any hostility in Ollie's voice.

"It's in my cart." Ian glances at the mail cart full of envelopes and packages. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"It's—"

I grasp Ollie's forearm to stop him from saying another word. As Ollie glances at me, I give him a tiny headshake, asking him to keep this matter under our hats.

He presses his lips together in regret before flashing a strained smile at Ian. "Nothing. Just curious."

As Ollie and I walk back to the rehearsal room, I whisper, "What were you thinking, Ol? Ian might not be a gossiper like some people around here, but you know how rumors fly in this place. It's like everyone has eyes and ears everywhere."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry."

Closing the door, I observe the thin envelope in my hands. What are they sending me this time? A letter saying how much they want to kill me? My severed finger?

Oh, wait. I still have all of my fingers.

Something tells me my hater isn't sending me any more beauty brochures this time, and a sense of dread begins to creep over me at the endless possibilities. I sit down on the swivel chair at the large table and tear open the envelope. Peeking inside, I spot a small piece of paper and a 4R photo.

"Ness." Ollie puts a hand on my shoulder, concern shining in his eyes. "Maybe I should—"

"It's okay, Ol." Donning my mask of confidence, I fish out the photo from the envelope. Still, as much as I try to be brave, my mask crumbles into shock when I see it's a photo of Ollie and me walking Kiki down the street last Sunday. My face is scribbled out with a red marker—and so does Kiki's missing leg.

Ollie rubs a hand over his mouth. "This is insane."

My stomach churns with anger as I curl my fists around the edges of the photo. How dare they drag Kiki into this?

Gritting my teeth, I shove a hand into the envelope and yank the note out.

Last warning, you ugly yellow peasant.

I did this to your filthy cat. I can do the same to you too.

Leave the King alone. Or else.

Yours till eternity, BlueEyedCupid.

My anger turns into a rage as the realization comes crashing down on me: whoever is doing this is responsible for Kiki's missing leg.

Now, it's one thing to attack me, but to attack an innocent creature like Kiki just because they hate me is on another level of evil.

As I vow to make whoever is responsible for this pay for what they've done, Ollie plucks the note from my grasp. He cocks his head and squints at the paper for a moment before a strange look dawns on his eyes—a hint of horror mixed with the tiniest glimpse of revelation.

Uh-oh. Is he having a mental breakdown?

Confused and a little worried, I stand up and lay a hand on his arm. "Ol? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." He licks his lips and releases a somewhat relieved breath. "I remember everything now."

Author's Note:

So, BlueEyedCupid was responsible for Kiki's missing leg. Did you see it coming?

Who do you think BlueEyedCupid is?

In the next chapter, we'll find out what Ollie remembers by taking a trip back in time. Keep your eyes open for more clues!

I hope you enjoyed this musical chapter xD As always, please show some support by voting and/or leaving comments. Thanks for reading! :)