Chapter 5: Snake Confessions and Rival Hearts

I tried to reason with him, but he just stared, unimpressed.

I’m a reasonable person.

At least, I like to think so. But reasoning with a jealous bird? That’s a whole new level.

Since the python was the first animal I was responsible for, he’s basically the eldest of my zoo kids.

I started joking about my animal "family," assigning everyone a rank. The crew thought it was hilarious.

“Be good. Even though you’re more pretty than useful, by seniority, even the black bear next door has to call you second brother!”

The peacock puffed up, looking both proud and offended. I tried not to laugh.

I was just being honest.

Sometimes honesty is not the best policy, especially with sensitive peacocks.

I don’t know which sentence offended this proud peacock, but he ignored me all day.

I spent the afternoon apologizing, offering treats, but he wouldn’t budge. Drama king, honestly.

Yet whenever I looked away, he’d shake his tail feathers to block my line of sight.

So much for the silent treatment. He couldn’t help himself.

When I heard the peacock was being sent away, I suddenly lost my appetite.

The news hit me harder than I expected. I poked at my lunch, barely tasting it.

Turns out he was a rare peacock, just here as a guest animal for a while, and now he’d been sent back overseas.

I tried to act cool, but inside I was a mess. I’d gotten attached, and now he was gone.

When the director told me to switch scripts, I was sadly watching fan-edited videos over and over.

I scrolled through my phone, replaying our best moments, feeling ridiculously sentimental.

The peacocks in those videos all looked so delicate, I felt a pang of heartache.

I hugged my knees to my chest, wishing I could turn back time. Seriously, who knew a bird could get under my skin like this?

Wuwu, I hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye to Buddy.

I blinked back tears, promising myself I’d never get this attached again. (Spoiler: I was wrong.)

“Cough, alright.” The director handed me a handkerchief to wipe my tears. “Maya Quinn, thank you for bringing so much attention and exposure to our show, which allowed us to invite Felix Carter to join…”

He looked almost sheepish, like he didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news.

“What? Who?”

I sat up straight, the name ringing alarm bells in my head. No way. Not him.

I dug at my ears in disbelief.

Maybe I’d misheard. Please let me have misheard.

No way, am I hearing things? How come I feel like I just heard my nemesis’s name?

I shot the director a look. He just nodded, confirming my worst fears.

“I know you and Felix have had some minor conflicts, but…”

Minor? Please. That’s like calling a hurricane a light breeze.

Minor conflicts? You call that minor?

I scoffed, crossing my arms. “Sure, if you call World War III minor.”

To outsiders, Felix Carter and I couldn’t be more unrelated.

We ran in different circles, kept our distance. But in this industry, rumors travel fast.

But in the industry, everyone knows we’re at odds.

It’s practically legend at this point. People place bets on how long we can go without sniping at each other.

Any drama I get cast in, he always plays the lofty, elegant male lead, and my script always turns into the lovesick supporting female who can’t win him over.

It’s like some cosmic joke. No matter what I do, I end up orbiting his spotlight.

Even if I deliberately choose to play a marginal villain, in the end, my role gets changed to a marginal lovesick who can’t win him over.

I tried everything—villain roles, sidekicks, even a tree once. Still, the script twisted itself to make me pine for him. Ridiculous.

Insane, ridiculous.

I started keeping a tally of how many times I got typecast. I lost count after ten.

It’s made me miss out on so many roles I actually liked.

There were scripts I loved, characters I could’ve brought to life. But no, always the same tired plotline.

I’ve tried rebelling against the company, but the boss was unmoved: “If you don’t act, there are plenty of people who will!”

I gritted my teeth and smiled through it. You gotta eat, right?

Fine.

Money is hard to earn, and that stuff? Even harder to swallow.

I consoled myself with takeout and late-night rants to my group chat.

The feud is set.

It’s practically written in the stars at this point.

Even though Felix is a movie star, I never hold back my sarcasm.

If he tries to one-up me, I shoot right back. The crew finds it hilarious. Honestly, I think it keeps us both sane.

After playing the role of gazing at him with deep affection, I’d roll my eyes.

I’d wait until the director yelled cut, then make a face at him. He always smirked, like he was in on the joke.

“Oh, just as narcissistic as a peacock, and pulling that harem romance stuff, really think the world revolves around you?”

He’d just shrug, like he knew he was irresistible. Annoying.

Felix looked at me coldly, his tone no less sharp: “Yeah. So what if you’re not convinced? You can only watch me and love me.”

He delivered the line with such conviction, the crew burst out laughing. I wanted to smack him.

...Dog bark?

I muttered under my breath, “More like a yapping poodle.”

How can someone be so arrogant and annoying?

If there’s a world record for self-confidence, Felix Carter’s got it locked down.