Work Text:
This is the seventy-third time Rhea has checked her phone today.
There are plenty of notifications, but none of them are the one she’s looking for.
It’s one of her rare days off from a grueling schedule, leaving her with far too much time to stare at her lock screen. Rhea rolls over on the sofa, finally unable to resist messaging her "inner circle."
Rhea: Still no likes from Karolina on Insta today?
Samba: Unless my phone is broken or she’s blocked me, that’s a firm no. Rhea, I know what you’re going to say next. You’ve asked me dozens of times why she hasn’t liked any Stursia fanart in three days. Why don’t you just text her?
Rhea stares at the chat history with Karolina, which has been stagnant for days. She lets out a long, heavy sigh.
Rhea: My gut tells me it’s better not to.
Samba: Then ignore your gut. Just ask.
Before Rhea can reply, Samba fires off another message.
Samba: I’m going to play football with my kid. Good luck.
Rhea isn’t cruel enough to interrupt Samba’s family time. She tosses her phone aside in defeat, letting it rest on the sofa’s backrest. The device lies there quietly, radiating temptation.
Normally, Rhea keeps a strict distance from the fandom side of her life, but Samba always sends over a horde of Stursia fanart, highlighting the "masterpieces" Karolina has liked. Rhea is perfectly content with this arrangement—until three days ago, when Karolina suddenly vanished from the internet. Only then does she realize it won’t last forever.
Anxiety finally wins. Rhea reclaims her phone and opens the app currently tugging at her heartstrings: Instagram. She rarely contacts Karolina here, as she prefers calling her directly to hear that magnetic voice. But right now, the digital distance of Instagram serves as a much-needed buffer.
She agonizes over her words before deciding to be blunt.
Rhea: Why did you stop liking the fanart?
The "Read" receipt appears faster than Rhea expected. She’s certain now that the cold shoulder wasn't just in her head; it was bait, and Karolina has been waiting for her to take it.
Five minutes pass.
Ten minutes.
Still no reply.
Rhea breaks.
Rhea: Did I do something wrong?
The message is instantly marked as read. Then, the three typing dots appear. Rhea’s breath hitches.
To her surprise, Karolina only shares a Story.
Rhea taps out of the chat. In the Story bar, Karolina’s avatar stands out—not the usual purple-red-yellow ring, but a piercing, neon green. A Close Friends post.
Rhea clicks it and finds a screenshot of a red-and-white webpage. In the center, bold text reads: “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now.”
Rhea: What is this?
Read. No reply.
Rhea gives up on the questions and starts searching for the website herself. When she realizes the site’s purpose is hosting fanfiction, she almost hits the exit button immediately. This is the professional boundary she keeps—focus on the script, leave the rest to the audience.
But curiosity defeats principle. She types in the title from the Story and nervously clicks the link.
The quiet afternoon provides the perfect sanctuary for immersive reading, and she is quickly swept away by the prose.
The rowdy taverns of Berlin. Literary debates thick with youth. A Polish woman who never seems to be without a cigarette.
Rhea feels herself slipping back into the role, as captivated by Zosia as Carol was. When she reaches the more intimate scenes, she feels her cheeks burn. She squints at the screen, reading every word with heightened focus as the images form uncontrollably in her mind.
A smile tugs at her lips as she reads of Carol and Zosia’s fierce love. But soon, her brow furrows.
“What the hell?”
As the plot shifts to Carol hiding her departure from Zosia, Rhea’s eyebrows knot together. A nameless anger bubbles up. “How could she do this to Zosia?”
When Carol finally promises to stay in Berlin, Rhea almost sighs in relief—only to be met with a more violent heartbreak. Seeing Zosia stare at the retreating Carol and spit out the word “Coward,” Rhea’s heart aches. She feels as though she’s the one being scolded.
Immersed in the story, she forgets Samba, forgets Instagram, forgets the un-liked fanart. Well, she hasn’t forgotten Karolina. But she thinks she finally knows why Karolina is ignoring her. If Rhea were in her shoes, she wouldn’t want to talk to a "coward" either.
She pushes through the anger and keeps reading. In all her time spent acting out the role, she has spent so long imagining the domestic bliss of Carol and Helen, but now she watches their love story with a heavy heart. There is only one thought in her mind: What about Zosia?
Driven by a strange grief, Rhea reads at an incredible pace, reaching the reunion of Carol and Zosia. When Zosia tells Carol, “I’m so glad that my broken heart gave you twenty years with the love of your life,” Rhea is officially in tears. Even when she finishes the story with a happy ending, the twenty years of fictional pain linger in her chest.
Subconsciously, she compares herself to the Carol in the story and mumbles, “I wouldn’t do that.”
The phrase feels weak against the weight of a long novel. Thinking of the silent Karolina, Rhea decides to do something to pull her out of the shadows. She stands up, stepping over the mountain of tissues she used while reading, and paces the living room.
Suddenly, inspiration strikes. Rhea bolts toward her study.
—
10:00 PM
Karolina sits on her sofa, half-watching a movie. Her mind keeps replacing the dialogue with things she imagines Rhea might say to her.
Truth be told, the Berlin AU was painful to read, but the pain was followed by a thrill of excitement. She knew that once Rhea read it, she would feel the need to make amends. Karolina wanted her girl to surprise her.
Drawing on her experience with training dogs, she had mapped out a plan: The cold shoulder. The lure. The delayed response. She has resisted every urge to "like" a post, leading Rhea straight into her trap.
And Rhea—who usually avoids fan-works—has followed the trail exactly as planned.
Just as the movie reaches its climax, Karolina’s phone buzzes. She takes a deep breath, smoothing down her excitement, and opens the DM with an air of total control.
Rhea has sent an image. Karolina taps it and bursts out laughing.
It’s a drawing. In it, Zosia lies on a bed, glaring with righteous fury at a fleeing Carol. Though silent, Karolina can almost hear the word coward. But in the wider frame, Rhea has sketched Vince, Peter, and the rest of the crew filming the scene. In the corner, a script supervisor holds up a sign: SORRY ZOSIA. It’s Rhea’s heart on the page. She has used her wit to dissolve the anger of the plot. Karolina knows Rhea is a talented artist, but the expressions are more vivid than she expected.
Training’s all about rewards. Just as Karolina begins to type a compliment, a second image arrives.
This time, there is no Vince, no Peter, and no film crew to break the mood. Carol and Zosia are entwined, limbs tangled under loose sheets. A prominent love-bite marks Zosia’s neck, and the look in Carol’s eyes is so tender it’s almost liquid. It is the very definition of happiness.
Rhea: I’d much rather act this out with you.
Karolina’s face goes scarlet. The steamier scenes from the fanfic flash through her mind with renewed heat. Suddenly feeling shy, her tone becomes "official."
Karolina: Rhea, a good actress should focus on the script.
Rhea: Of course.
Karolina blinks, staring at the blunt reply. Then, a photo arrives: two tickets to an art exhibition.
Rhea: Can we go to this gallery on Sunday? You can forgive me one more time there.
Karolina stops fighting the smile. Her girl is far too sweet. She doesn’t hesitate to reply.
Karolina: Definitely YES.<3
—
That night, Karolina resumes her daily routine. The Stursia nation has its queen back. And the very first post she likes?
A drawing of Zosia and Carol, locked in an embrace, sharing a kiss at an art gallery.