It had taken three summers, seven jobs, and a little promiscuity to receive some much-needed finances to be there when he arrived. The annual award show had finally come, and I knew he’d show after all the accolades he received from his movie. I pulled up in a brand new grey 2018 Ferrari 488 GTB, with black leather seats for the interior fitted for only 2, him and I. I felt like the celebrity I was already supposed to be. When I stepped out, I could hear simultaneous whispers that turned in to a loud, very coherent rant: “who is she”? I smiled because although they had no idea who I was, it didn’t stop the cameras from flashing, the valet from taking my keys, or the security from removing the velvet red rope that linked to a pole for access into the door. Chills ran down my spine, I was so close I could smell his perfectly tailored suit that had been adorned in that Dolce & Gabbana men’s cologne he always wore. I was in my element. 

My face was covered in MAC cosmetics emphasized by velvet red lipstick and lashes so long and wispy, I could’ve flown away. My hair dangled in long, bouncy, golden curls made possible by a few very expensive extensions. A beautiful beaded head chain fell gracefully over my temples revealing shimmers of silver, baroque pearls and sapphire as I moved passed the paparazzi. The tail of my royal blue, jeweled Balenciaga gown seemed to float through the air behind me as I glided the infamous red carpet as if I had done this before. The high slit in my dress exposed my flawless, long, honey glazed legs as I cat walked in my nude, red bottom Louboutin stilettos. My new face was prettier, but I made sure to maintain just enough of my old self. I’ve always felt my face was my golden ticket. My implants created curves I couldn’t train a lifetime for. My boobs were so astoundingly perfect, Kim K. would’ve ask who my surgeon was. My butt was tight, round and just so damn insatiable. To accentuate my new body, I added a beautifully crafted manicure and pedicure. Everything was on purpose and had a specific purpose.

It had been five whole years since we had last encountered and five whole years until the restraining order he had placed on me was finally lifted. Waiting for my prince for five years felt more like an eternity in hell. The only good thing that came out of the restraining order was my will to hustle for my new appearance. I could walk right up to him and he’d never even know it was me. I could only watch from afar, but tonight, all of that was about to change. I could feel it in my gut, a plan carved out so perfect, nothing could go wrong. How could it? 

The plan was flawless, he wouldn’t see me coming 2 feet away. I wouldn’t pounce on him like some crazed fan. No, that was the old me. Tonight, I’d woo him, make him stare into my eyes and caress his tall, chiseled frame. Our bodies would embrace, and I’d remind him of all the moments we’d shared. It all seemed so real, maybe even too real because it had to be true. Our relationship was ever growing, and the passion we shared was unexplainable. I’d just have to make him see, feel what I did. I’ll never forget the night we made sweet love on his balcony, underneath the stars just as the air was thickening with a cool summer breeze. Our bodies glistening under the night sky, sticky and sweaty from consuming one another. We had so many memories, that he needed to know about. This one, tonight, would be one to remember indefinitely. I was ready for the continuation of our brand new relationship. 

I rehearsed and memorized the program and was fortunate enough to get my hands on the backstage schedule. I knew who was performing, when they were performing, who was stepping out on the stage to present an award… I knew it all. 

VIP guests arrived promptly at 8 and the show would begin at 9:30 on the dot. This gave me just enough time to find my seat and then walk the room so I’d know where he’d be sitting. I found him. The show was so exciting and tantalizing. During the first few minutes of the show, he scratched his head in what seemed to be confusion. Right after that, he sat attentively and something on stage made him smile, and then laugh, a lot. I missed whatever it was, but he was beautiful. Throughout the show, he excused himself once, like a gentleman, and when he returned, he seemed relieved, that made me smile. Towards the end of the show he started to slop in his chair, and then they recited the nominees for best movie of the year and at that moment, I could feel the nervousness on his face become my own nervousness. We were one. He sat straight up in his chair with wide eyes like a kid expecting some type of treat. It was so adorable and the gesture touched my heart, I felt a tear roll down my cheek. The anticipation was killing him, I kept wishing how I could be next to him to rub his arm and give him some type of confirmation because I knew he’d get it.

I almost stood up and screamed, I was so angry! I wanted to stab that slutty mistress of ceremony in the face with my stiletto. I was furious, I could almost feel my blood boil, I cried with anger and almost couldn’t seem to control my unsettling emotions. I pulled at my hair so aggressively an extension came out, along with a lock of my own hair, followed by a stream of blood. I didn’t, I couldn’t feel the pain, only his. How could he not have won that award? I was beyond confused and I couldn’t help but die a little inside, no, a lot. I knew that I had to please him even more than I had intended, to relieve his mind from the embarrassment these morons had bestowed upon him. 

Action. The show was over and I was ready. Timing is everything. After my car was spotted and returned to me, I got in and sat patiently waiting for him to enter the parking lot. He walked with a slight slouch, his sadness weakened me, but I knew I still had to do what I had come to do. He plopped in the driver’s seat and sped off. I slowly pulled out of the lot in pursuit. I turned my headlights off and in only a matter of time, we were at his house. I knew he wanted me there and I could almost hear him screaming for me to alleviate his pain. I was coming. The gate closed abruptly as I had anticipated and I knew then, my plan was going smoothly. I stopped my car about 15 feet from the gate, cut off the engine and then restarted it. I reached into the glove department and removed the empty bottles of alcohol and drunk the rest of what was left in one. I scattered the bottles on the seat beside me and then pressed hard on the gas, BAM! I hit the steel gate hard, still conscious; I could hear his car door slam and then his car take off suddenly to attend to the ruckus. 

“Ma’am?! Oh my god, ma’am!” 

I let out a few incoherent sentences followed by a few moans as I slowly whipped my head around to look at him with low eyes and a slight smile, 

“I’m ok, just a little fender bender, I’m totally fine!” 

He had such a warm heart; he lifted me from the car, 

“You are definitely not ok, I’m gonna take you inside and call the ambulance.” 

“No!” I exclaimed, “This is my father’s car, one of his most prized, he’d kill me if he knew I wrecked it! I’m fine I swear, how much do I owe you for the damage?” 

“Nothing,” he said, “just let me make sure you’re ok.” 

He sat me in his car, stared into my eyes as if we had never met and proceeded to cover me with his tuxedo jacket; he got in and started the engine. As we drove up to the house I told him that I was fine enough to drive home, fortunately, he disagreed. He parked his car, rushed to my side and scooped me from the passenger seat.

  “I promise you I’m –…” 

I let my head fall on his shoulder before he responded.

  “Just let me help you” as we entered his home. 

He placed me on the sofa, left and returned in a matter of seconds with warm blankets and pillows.

  “I’ll set you up in the guest room, but for now, just rest…”

Hours had passed and we were still cuddled on the couch. I rolled over to a beautifully sleeping man. I peeled his hands away from my body and began my exploration around the mansion. I decided to start upstairs and make my way back down. So far I had been impressed with the home décor, but being his fiancé I knew I could liven up the place a bit. 

I had made my way to the last room in the hallway and noticed a hidden door in one of the closet spaces. Although it was the normal height and size of any door, it was being covered by drapes. I really don’t know how I even caught it. I placed my hand on the doorknob expecting to see his collection of Oscars dusted nicely and nailed to the walls. Instead, what I found nearly took my breath away. A cold tingly horrific chill crawled up my spine and forced me to snuggle deeper into his tuxedo jacket. I placed my hands in the pockets and was a little thrown with how cheap the inside felt. My attention realigned to the wall and I could feel the hairs slowly rise all over my body as the goosebumps protruded in pursuit. I hadn’t known I was being followed, watch, stalked and closely observed. I was under 24-hour surveillance. This guy, this guy that had been the source of all my happiness made me the subject of his shrine. Every inch of the walls was plastered with posters, articles, and pictures of me. There were pictures up I’d never seen, pictures of me in my house, my car, on my way to work, before I got the surgery and even after I got the surgery. The creepiest part was there were pictures of me before I met him or even found out who he was. The most embarrassing thing was that there were pictures of me stalking him. I didn’t know whether to be flattered or afraid for my safety. I began to fidget and realized the “cheap” material I felt in his jacket pocket was the lock of my hair twisted with a piece of extension that I pulled out during the award ceremony. Now, I was scared. I turned to go and there he was, standing behind me. 

 “I see you’ve found my work of art…”