The world outside Ethan's bedroom didn't stop. It didn't care.
The fans still cheered. The band still rehearsed. The cameras still captured every moment of his life.
But inside, Ethan Vale felt like he was crumbling.
He didn't know when it started-the slow, suffocating weight of betrayal-but he couldn't escape it anymore. Everywhere he looked, he saw reminders of her. Aria's laugh echoing in his memory. Blake's smug grin burned behind his eyelids. The comments online, the memes, the hashtags-#EthanValeHeartbroken, #BlakeStealsAria, #GoldenBoyBetrayed-each one dug deeper into his chest.
He didn't answer messages. Didn't go to interviews. Didn't even eat. Bandmates called him "moody" at first. Now, they were afraid of him.
The first rehearsal of the day was a disaster. Ethan held the microphone in his hands, but his hands shook. He tried to sing, tried to hit the notes, tried to fake the smile the world expected from him.
He couldn't.
Instead, he muttered lyrics under his breath, voice low and raw, his chest tight with anger and heartbreak. One of the bandmates nudged him. "Ethan...you okay?"
He glared at them. "Don't talk to me."
The words cut sharper than any knife. Everyone froze.
They had never seen this side of him. The boy who always smiled, who always charmed, who always had the perfect answer...was gone. In his place stood someone colder, sharper, dangerous even.
The rehearsal continued without him. He stood in the corner, arms crossed, listening to the music but not feeling it. Every note reminded him of what he had lost. Every harmony reminded him of Aria's voice, mingling with Blake's, laughing at him, mocking him.
By the end of the rehearsal, his rage had grown. Not just at Aria. Not just at Blake. At the world. At women. At love. At trust.
He walked out of the studio without a word, ignoring the calls and shouts behind him. The city was a blur outside the tinted windows of his car. Lights streaked past, indifferent, flashing in his eyes like the world didn't care. Because it didn't. Not really.
At home, he locked himself in his room. Posters of him performing, photos of him smiling, trophies he had earned-all of it felt meaningless. The music that used to make him feel alive now sounded hollow, empty. Like a ghost of something that didn't exist anymore.
He picked up his guitar, strumming aimlessly, letting the chords spill into the quiet room. But even that, the one thing that had always soothed him, couldn't drown out the rage and heartbreak inside.
"I trusted you," he muttered, staring at the wall. "I loved you. And you...you destroyed it. And the worst part? You did it in front of everyone. You made my pain entertainment."
He slammed the guitar onto the floor, the wood cracking slightly, the strings humming their final echo.
And then he cried.
Not the soft, quiet crying from the night of the betrayal. This was raw, bitter, angry crying. Tears mixed with rage, shoving him to the floor, shaking his whole body.
He hated her. He hated Blake. He hated the world that allowed this. He hated women for the way they smiled and lied. He hated himself for ever believing love was real.
Hours passed. Or maybe minutes. Time felt irrelevant. He didn't notice the night turning into morning. The world outside continued without pause, but inside, Ethan Vale's golden heart was darkening, hardening, preparing for a life without trust, without love, without vulnerability.
The next day, the headlines were worse.
"Ethan Vale's Heartbreak Goes Public-Golden Boy Turns Cold"
"Aria Knox and Blake Ryder: A Love Story or a Scandal?"
"Fans Shocked at Ethan's Sudden Change in Demeanor"
He didn't read them. He didn't want to. He didn't care what the world thought. They would never understand. They had never been him. They had never loved him the way he loved her.
Even his closest friends tried to reach him. Messages, calls, visits-they all failed. He ignored them. He lashed out at anyone who got too close.
"You don't understand!" he snapped at a crew member who tried to hand him a water bottle. "Stay away from me!"
And just like that, fear began to surround him. Not fear from enemies or rivals. Fear from those who loved him. They didn't approach him anymore. They left him alone.
It was exactly what he wanted.
By the end of the week, Ethan Vale was a shadow of himself. Publicly adored. Privately broken. A golden boy turned dark. His smile, once a beacon for fans, had vanished. His laughter, once a melody for the world, had disappeared. His heart, once open, was now locked behind walls stronger than any steel.
Even love itself seemed like a weapon now, a cruel joke designed to humiliate him.
And yet, beneath the anger, beneath the heartbreak, a small, cold truth whispered in the back of his mind:
No one would ever hurt me again.
Not women. Not lovers. Not anyone.
He wouldn't allow it.
Ethan picked up his phone one last time that night. There was a message from Aria:
"Ethan, I'm sorry. I...blame myself. Can we talk?"
He stared at it. Heart hammering. Fingers hovering over the screen.
Then he deleted it.
Never.
Not ever.
He dropped the phone on the bed and sat in silence, staring at the ceiling. The golden boy was gone. The boy who trusted, the boy who loved openly...was gone.
In his place was a man who would trust no one.
A man who would laugh at no one.
A man who would let the world see his perfection, but never his pain.
And somewhere deep down, hidden under anger and heartbreak, he felt the first stirrings of something dangerous. Something sharp. Something that would define the next months of his life.
Hate.