The Prop

I was so deep in character that I absentmindedly shoved the prop "Termination Consent Form" into my trench coat pocket. When I got home, my boyfriend—an A-list movie star whose relationship with me was still a secret—was digging through my coat and found the paper. His voice sounded like he had swallowed broken glass. "When did this happen?" I thought he was asking when the scene wrapped. "Just this afternoon. It was super quick. I didn't feel a thing, and then it was over." The light in his eyes died instantly. He collapsed onto the sofa. The next day, I left for a closed-set location shoot. When I finally emerged weeks later, I heard he had canceled all his press tours. He had spent forty-nine days at a silent spiritual retreat, lighting candles daily to pray for the soul of an unborn child. 1. I barely got through the front door before Liam’s lips were on mine. He tasted like peppermint and desperation. His arms locked around my waist like a vice, his breath hot against my neck. Normally, facing Liam’s enthusiasm, I’d be ready to go a few rounds. But not today. I had just wrapped a grueling shoot, and my body felt like it had been run over by a truck. All I wanted was a hot shower. "Babe, stop..." I turned my head, dodging his kiss. "My back is breaking. Mercy, please." Liam froze. The lust in his eyes instantly melted into concern. "That tired?" "Mhm." I peeled off my trench coat and blindly shoved it into his chest. "Hang this up for me? I need to scrub this makeup off." I walked straight to the bathroom. Behind me, I heard the rustle of fabric. Liam was a neat freak; he always handled the laundry and coats. I turned on the faucet, letting the water run loud as I pumped cleansing oil into my hand to attack my waterproof mascara. Suddenly, Liam’s voice came from the hallway. It was quiet, laced with a tremor so faint I almost missed it. "Harper... when did this happen?" I kept my eyes closed, massaging the oil into my skin. I assumed he was asking when we finished filming. "Just this afternoon. It was super quick. I didn't feel a thing, and then it was over." I had been worried about that final scene, but it had gone surprisingly smoothly, which was why I was home early. "...Did it hurt?" Hearing the softness in his voice warmed my chest. I had spent two hours in a harness doing wirework today. Of course it hurt. But on set, you don't complain. You suck it up. So, I answered breezily: "It was okay. Stung a little in the moment, but I don't feel anything now." Outside, rain started to lash against the windowpane, blurring the city lights. The air in the hallway seemed to freeze solid. Liam’s voice shook. "...Why didn't you tell me?" Men. Always getting moody over nothing. Was he upset I didn't text him the minute I wrapped? "Why would I bother you with a little thing like that?" I called back. "Plus, there were like fifty people watching. You want our relationship leaked?" I shut the bathroom door, cutting off the conversation. I stripped and slid into the bathtub, finally relaxing. Just as I closed my eyes, a knock came at the door. "Harper?" I splashed some water. "What now?" Silence for a second. "Don't make the water too hot. It's... it's bad for your body right now. And don't stay in there too long. You might faint." "I know, I know. You're turning into my mother, I swear." He didn't reply. But I heard him on the phone a moment later. "...What if she catches a chill?... What kind of vitamins do we need?... Yeah, I know she looks fine, but we have to be careful..." I assumed he was just being his usual overprotective self, probably calling his nutritionist. I didn't see that outside the door, Liam hung up the phone and silently cranked the thermostat up to seventy-eight degrees. 2. When I came out, wrapped in a towel, Liam was sitting on the couch like a statue. The reading lamp cast a long, lonely shadow across the floor. He looked like a puppy that had been kicked to the curb. Liam was a method actor. Sometimes he got too deep into a headspace, so I didn't think much of it. I didn't have time to coddle him. I had to leave for a remote location shoot in the mountains tomorrow. Period drama. No cell service. I opened my suitcase and started throwing clothes in. Liam watched me pack, looking like he wanted to say something but couldn't get the words out. Finally, as I was about to zip the bag, he grabbed my hand. "Harper." "Do you have to go tomorrow?" "You... you haven't recovered yet." I looked at him, confused. "Recovered from what? I'm fine. I'm strong as an ox." "Besides, the whole crew is waiting on me. If I don't show up, that's a breach of contract. Do you know how much the penalty fee is?" "I'll pay it," he blurted out. "Just stay home and rest. Please?" I frowned, looking at him in disbelief. "Liam, are you okay?" "Who was the one who told me actors need integrity? That once you sign a contract, you show up? Since when am I so delicate that I need bed rest?" Liam’s face went ghost white, as if I’d slapped him. I didn't understand his reaction. He was being incredibly clingy tonight. I stood up and latched the suitcase. "You were the one who told me to focus on my career. Now that I'm finally getting some good roles, you want to lock me up in the house like a trophy wife?" That seemed to be the final blow. Liam stumbled back half a step and fell onto the sofa. He looked at me, his eyes shattered glass. "Yes... I told you to focus on your career." He let out a hollow, broken laugh. "My mistake." I turned around to wheel my suitcase to the door, ignoring his drama. I didn't hear him whisper, "I killed it." 3. I was exhausted. I hit the pillow and was out like a light. But in the middle of the night, I woke up smelling peppermint. I was leaving for two months tomorrow. The thought of being apart made me clingy. Half-asleep, I rolled over and snuggled into his chest, my hand sliding under his t-shirt. "Liam..." My voice was thick with sleep, soft and needy. I tilted my head up to find his lips. The next second, I froze. Liam pushed me away. It wasn't rough, but it was firm. A clear rejection. He caught my wandering hand. "Don't. Go to sleep." I grumbled, annoyed. "I'm leaving tomorrow. I won't see you for weeks. This is the send-off I get?" Usually, this man couldn't keep his hands off me. Tonight, he was acting like a monk. He scooted back, pulling the duvet up to my chin, tucking me in like a burrito. "Be good." In the dark, his gaze was heavy. "Your body... it's too soon. Don't push yourself." I frowned, fully awake now. "I'm tired, yeah, but you're seriously turning me down?" "Next time you want me, don't expect me to be this easy!" "Just sleep," he pleaded, his voice cracking. I glared at him. Something was wrong with him tonight. Fine. If he was bored of me, whatever. "Fine! Who cares!" I rolled over, turning my back to him, and pulled the covers over my head. "Goodnight. Don't touch me." Behind me, I heard a long, trembling exhale. 4. Liam didn't sleep that night. He watched Harper’s back as she slept. His heart felt like it was being squeezed in a hydraulic press. He couldn't close his eyes. Every time he did, he saw that crumpled paper: Termination Consent Form. He thought back to an afternoon two months ago. The sunlight had been perfect, highlighting the peach fuzz on her cheeks. She was scrolling through TikTok in his arms. She shoved the screen in his face. It was a video of a toddler in a pink dress. Harper’s eyes were sparkling. "Liam, look! She's so cute! What do you think our kids would look like?" She looked up at him, full of hope. "I hope they have your jawline and my eyes." Liam had sighed. He loved her. And because he loved her, he knew how brutal Hollywood was. "Harper, you're young." "This industry eats women alive. You have a golden window. If you have a baby now, the gap in your resume... the market forgets people fast." He had tried to be logical. "You have talent. You have momentum. You shouldn't be tied down so early." "As for kids... let's talk about it later. Okay?" The light in Harper’s eyes had dimmed. Right. He was a movie star. He wasn't ready to be a dad. She had smiled quickly to cover it up. "Why so serious? I was just talking." Now, remembering that moment, Liam buried his face in his hands. He was garbage. What if she was already pregnant then? What if she was testing the waters? And his "logical" answer made her think he didn't want the baby. He couldn't imagine what she felt walking into that clinic alone. And then coming home and saying "It was quick" and "I didn't feel a thing." He knew her. The more casual she acted, the more she was hurting. Guilt consumed him like a wildfire. He reached out to touch her stomach, then stopped, afraid to wake her. He just sat there in the dark, his hand hovering over the empty space where a life used to be. Eventually, he sat up and opened a group chat with his closest friends—guys he’d known since college. Liam: My child is gone. It was a bomb. Scott: Dude, what? Are you joking? Harper was pregnant? Liam: She had the procedure. Yesterday afternoon. Scott: Holy... I was smoking near her last week at the BBQ. I'm going to hell. That was my nephew! Ben: Wait. A decision that big... she didn't discuss it with you? Liam: It's my fault. I didn't make her feel safe. Ben: If you're hurting, man, go to the retreat in Big Sur. Light a candle. Find some peace. Liam stared at the words. He couldn't sleep. He got up, packed a small bag, kissed Harper’s forehead, and left. He drove through the night, heading toward the coast.

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