UNSCRIPTED LOVE

The studio office was colder than Jenna remembered.

Sterile white walls.
A long conference table.
Five producers sitting stiffly across from them, faces carved from stone.

It felt like walking into a courtroom where the verdict was already decided.

Aubrey squeezed her hand under the table.

Jenna didn’t let go.

"Let’s get to the point," said the head producer, a man named Collins. His voice was clipped, like he was barely restraining himself. "This…situation is causing chaos."

Aubrey raised an eyebrow.

"You mean people realizing we're human beings and not props?"

Jenna almost smiled.

Almost.

Collins ignored her.

"We’re under pressure — from advertisers, networks, investors. You’ve jeopardized the project."

Another producer, a woman Jenna barely recognized, leaned forward.

"If you two issue a public apology and agree to some...boundaries," she said delicately, "we can spin this. Salvage what's left."

"And if we don't?" Aubrey asked, voice deceptively calm.

A muscle jumped in Collins’s jaw.

"Then you’re out."

Silence slammed into the room.

Jenna felt it — a heavy, suffocating weight — pressing against her ribs.

They were really doing this.

They were really threatening to erase them.

Aubrey leaned forward, her smile sharp and deadly.

"Let me get this straight," she said, voice like ice. "You want us to pretend we’re ashamed of being in love?"

"It’s not about love," Collins snapped. "It’s about professionalism."

Aubrey laughed — a short, ugly sound.

"Funny. I don’t remember professionalism meaning 'straight only.'"

Jenna found her voice, shaky but steady.

"And what about the straight couples on set?" she asked. "They kiss in public. They post about each other. You don’t seem to mind when it’s convenient for you."

The producers exchanged uncomfortable glances.

Nobody answered.

Cowards.

Aubrey pushed back her chair and stood.

She wasn’t angry.

She was furious.

Radiating it like a storm.

"You don’t own us," she said, voice low and deadly. "You don’t get to shame us into silence."

"Think carefully, Aubrey," Collins warned. "You walk out that door, you might not find it open again."

Aubrey smirked.

"Good," she said. "I’m sick of walking through doors that only open for people willing to crawl."

Jenna stood too, heart hammering.

She was shaking — not from fear anymore, but adrenaline.

"Come on," Aubrey said, holding out her hand.

Jenna took it without hesitation.

Their fingers laced together like armor.

They turned and walked out — heads high, backs straight — leaving the producers scrambling in their wake.

Outside the building, Jenna pulled in a shaky breath.

Aubrey turned to her immediately.

"You okay?"

Jenna smiled — small, fierce.

"I’m perfect."

Aubrey kissed her, right there on the sidewalk, not caring who saw.

The world could burn around them.

They weren’t hiding anymore.

Not for anyone.

Not ever again.

---

That night, they posted a joint statement online.

Simple.
Direct.
Unapologetic.

> We’re in love.
We’re proud of it.
We’re not sorry.

The internet exploded.

Within minutes, #ProudOfAubreyAndJenna was trending worldwide.

Fan videos flooded TikTok.
Articles flipped overnight — praising their bravery, their honesty.
Even celebrities started posting support.

It didn’t fix everything.

The hate was still there, lurking.

But love — real, messy, stubborn love — was louder.

Louder than they ever imagined.

And it was just getting started.

---