Chapter - 155

[Title : Who Do You Love More?]

….

The conversation between Regal and Gwendolyn had drifted, moved onto the calculations, and once done it was silence…

Regal stood up from his chair with a quiet exhale and stretched his arms overhead, his shoulders stiff from sitting too long.

Behind him, Gwendolyn had slid into his chair, flipping through the same file he had been reading minutes ago.

Even after going through all the numbers that explained to her which proves just how much he had achieved, it still felt a bit surreal to her at times….

The soft thud of approaching footsteps broke the quiet.

Rock entered from the hallway, carrying a bundle of papers stacked so high it nearly blocked his face.

Several pens - blue, black, and red - were tucked between his fingers like darts. He walked over and placed everything on the dining table.

Gwendolyn looked up from the file, arching a brow. “What’s all that?”

“No idea.” Rock said simply. “Was told to bring them, madam.”

Regal stepped closer. “I am thinking of rewriting the script for [Harry Potter]” He said, his voice casual but precise.

Gwendolyn paused.

?..?Her eyes narrowed just slightly in disbelief. She didn’t respond right away. Instead, she studied him for a beat, trying to see where this was coming from.

That’s absurd, was her first instinct.

It wasn’t a question of his talent - that was never in doubt.

The concern lay in the timing. The project was already nearing the final stages of pre-production, and introducing changes at that point - especially involving new actors or revisions to the script - was far more complicated than he made it sound. Studio approvals, schedule adjustments, and existing commitments all made the process anything but simple.

So, changing the foundation now means,

Did he have a new idea?

For creators there was always a better version, yes - but that can also be the trap and somehow be the start of their downfall.

Perfection was an endless slope, and when or where to end is what makes a creator. 

However, for as long as she remembers, Regal never had such problems.

So, Gwendolyn decided to wait as she could see her boyfriend wasn’t finished speaking.

Regal sat back down, slower this time, and rubbed his temples for a second. Then he looked at her–

“Gwen… last night… I am not sure whether it is a nightmare.” He said quietly.

“Not sure?” Gwendolyn asked, trying to understand him clearly as he himself brought up the topic he knew she was waiting for.

“Right….” Regal began, nodding to himself, and contemplating his slight mixed up revelation. “It was a dream about the world of Harry Potter, and at the same time it felt vivid, it felt… lived.”

She tilted her head, watching him carefully. “....well, you have been thinking about it non-stop for months. It’s not impossible your brain just stitched it together.”

“Yeah. But it wasn’t like that.” Regal said, his voice steady, not dramatic. “It wasn’t random. I was… conscious. Completely. I remember every moment - what I saw, what I touched. Even how Harry felt in those moments. The fear. The choices. It didn’t feel like a story. It felt like… memory.”

He looked away, eyes unfocused, then let out a breath. “And it’s stuck with me. I can’t ignore it.”

Gwendolyn didn’t say anything right away.

She had seen him obsessive before - about details, about pacing, about a shot that wasn’t quite there.

But this was different.

It wasn’t about control or quality. It felt personal. Like something had shifted internally and he hadn’t caught up to it yet.

They had called a doctor last night.

Rock had been concerned enough to do it without asking.

The man had arrived in the middle of the night, checked Regal’s vitals, asked a few questions, and left without raising any red flags.

Still, they had a full consultation scheduled later today.

Three in the afternoon.

Blood work. Neurological assessments. Whatever it took.

And if that appointment turned into a string of appointments?

They would postpone everything else. That wasn’t up for debate.

If Regal went down, the ship went with him.

Everyone knew that.

Directors were captains in this business - and she wasn’t about to let the captain crash mid-voyage.

But none of that was what really bothered her.

What gnawed at her, quietly and constantly, was something much simpler.

He was her man.

And right now, she doesn't know how to help him.

Gwendolyn had built an armor around herself over the years - professionalism, control, detachment when needed.

But being with Regal meant that the wall had cracks.

Deep ones.

Because for all his brilliance, his stubbornness, his unpredictable instincts - he was still just one man.

And if something broke in him, something she couldn't fix, then none of it  - no films, no scripts, no studio shares - mattered.

Gwendolyn reached for the pen nearest to her and clicked it absentmindedly, her gaze still resting on him.

She could see it in his face - that he wasn’t quite here with her in this room.

Part of him was still in that dream, wherever it had taken him.

And that part… wanted to bring something back.

Maybe that was what genius looked like.

Or maybe it was something else.

She didn’t know.

But for now, she has stayed. Keep things steady. Handle the weight while he drifted through whatever creative storm he was sailing through.

Because that was the deal, wasn’t it?

He was a dreamer. And she was the one who made sure he had a place to land when the dream was done.

“…anyway, if there is one thing I actually gained after going through that nightmare.” Regal said again, his voice softer now. “It was how I saw this story.”

Gwendolyn lifted her chin slightly as her eyes followed him, continuing with more confidence. “The story is still the same… but now, I am more clear than I have ever been about what I want to make.”

He stopped next to her chair.

She was sitting still, almost statuesque, but her gaze - those vivid green irises - never wavered from his.

Her face didn’t say much.

But her eyes, they were telling him a lot more.

Questions. Trust. A quiet storm of emotion behind them that she wasn’t putting into words.

Then, without breaking eye contact, Regal bent down and gently placed his hands on either side of her face.

His palms were warm.

Steady.

Framing her like something fragile and precious.

“I promise.” He murmured. “Our baby is going to be the most beautiful, most amazing girl in the world.”

He kissed her forehead with a feather-light touch.

Then leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers.

?!!Gwendolyn didn’t move.

She couldn’t, not right now.

Something inside her was still trembling - subtle, like a string plucked once and still vibrating.

This man.

Her man.

Talking about their ‘child’ with the same conviction he talked about a final act or a character’s arc.

It was maddening and disarming in the same breath.

And oddly - beautiful.

He wasn’t saying it for effect.

He meant it.

And she loved him for that, even if it scared her sometimes.

“Hehe, my girl is already the best. As she is now.” Gwendolyn whispered, finally.

Regal smiled, forehead still resting against hers. “Haa, that is how moms are, right? They love their kids exactly as they are. But dads…” His breath touched her skin. “Dads always want them to be even better. Just a little more. But maybe… she deserves both.”

There was a beat of silence.

Not awkward. Just full.

[Harry Potter] had always been more than a story to them.

It wasn’t just a script or a box office gamble.

It was where their paths and worlds were met, walked, and merged.

It was the beginning of so many things - his first real work, her decision to embrace the madness of comfort called ‘love’ and finally the magic they built together.

Every draft. Every late-night rewrite. Every strange, wonderful memory.

Gwendolyn still remembered the night before the launch of the first volume. They had stayed up late rehearsing the announcement, discussing how to stage the questions for the press. She hadn’t expected it to matter so much.

And yet… somehow, in the middle of that quiet night, watching him pace and revise, she’d felt it.

Something shifted.

She had fallen for him - not with drama, not with certainty - but with a softness so gradual it caught her completely off guard.

Looking back now, she realised how small those moments were. And yet, those very moments had grown roots. Quiet, unassuming - until one day they were real. Tangible. Worth holding on to.

They had come far since then. Survived the chaos. Survived each other. And now, just as the film moved toward its beginning, something else between them stirred again - not yet named, not yet understood, but undeniably present.

And then, almost inevitably, came the question…

“Who do you love more?” Gwendolyn asked, her voice thin but not uncertain. “Your madness for telling stories, or… the madness for me?”

Her arms circled around his neck, fingers light, not clutching.

Their foreheads still met.

Regal didn’t hesitate.

“That is easy. It’s you. Not even close.”

There wasn’t a flicker of doubt in him. And strangely, he didn’t even flinch at how easily the words left his mouth.

If the old version of him - the boy who once believed cinema was the only thing he had ever needed - might have stared at him in disbelief.

But he wouldn’t have understood.

Because for all the fire Regal had ever felt when a story locked into place, for every surge of triumph when a character finally breathed, for every battle won on set or page… none of it compared to this.

To her.

To this quiet, terrifying, beautiful thing he never thought he'd deserve. Something stronger than ambition. Something truer than obsession.

Someone who made him want more than just greatness.

And right now, she was sitting in front of him, wrapped around him, holding on just enough without needing to prove anything.

When he said it, Gwendolyn didn’t break down.

She smiled faintly, eyes shimmering - not from surprise, but from the way it still somehow felt like a miracle to be chosen.

She pulled him into a firm hug full of tightness and secureness.

She already knew the answer.

Of course she did.

But sometimes, even the strongest woman wants to hear it - to be told, directly, plainly, without poetry or metaphors, that she mattered more.

And he gave her that, without dressing it up.

They stayed like that, silent and still, for a few more seconds, just breathing.

Then Gwendolyn leaned back a little, brushing her face once as if that would erase the vulnerability that had slipped through.

Her voice returned to normal as she glanced over Regal’s shoulder.

Rock was still standing nearby, in the exact same position as before.

Stone-faced. Completely unmoved. At least, at first glance.

“Rock…” Gwendolyn’s voice turned sheepish. “Sorry for shouting at you last night.”

Her hands crossed awkwardly. Then, like a kid admitting guilt, she tugged her ears in that funny little apology gesture her mother used to make her do as a girl.

Rock looked at her.

For the first time in the last fifteen minutes, she saw a flicker of something in his expression - he was surprised.

Not by the apology, but by her face.

The sincerity. Maybe the softness in it.

He turned around fast. Too fast.

“It’s okay, madam.” He said, voice a little tighter than usual.

“Thanks.” Gwendolyn said, just as simply.

She didn’t press. She knew that kind of response well. That was his version of  - let’s not talk about it again.

But then she couldn’t help herself.

Her tone lightened as she glanced at Regal. “But hey, tell me something, Rock. He just said he loves me more than storytelling. That was real, right? You felt that too?”

Before Rock could answer, Regal cut in with a smirk that was somewhere between playful and poking.  “What is he, your personal lie detector now?”

Gwendolyn shot him a look.

Not angry - just that flat, amused glance women have perfected over centuries. A quiet ‘Really?’ in visual form.

Regal raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright… just asking.”

But then a strange quiet followed.

They waited. And waited.

And the answer didn’t come.

Gwendolyn’s brows pulled together faintly. She turned slowly, Regal following her gaze.

Rock was still standing exactly where he had been, stock-still, eyes ahead, back straight.

But now… something wasn’t right.

Too still and rigid.

And when Gwendolyn leaned just slightly, adjusting her view, she caught the angle of his face - just enough.

A shimmer.

At first she thought it was the dining light hitting his cheekbone. But it wasn’t that.

It was unmistakable.

The edge of his eye. Damp. Unmoving.

He wasn’t crying the way most people did.

No sniffling. No blinking. Just… standing there, as if his body refused to betray what he felt, but his eyes hadn’t gotten the memo.

“Dude…” Regal’s voice came soft, half-joking, not cruel. “Are you crying, bro?”

Gwendolyn turned to him with a flick of heat in her gaze - not harsh, just pointed.

Not now.

Regal exhaled quietly. Yeah. He got it.

He stood, took a step closer to Rock, then turned - looping an arm lightly around Gwendolyn and dropping a kiss on her cheek, just quick.

“Okay.” He said, half to her, half to Rock. “Sorry. I am done being stupid.”

Then he raised his right hand to his throat - fingertips resting lightly on Adam's apple.

“I swear. I won’t make her worry again. Promise.”

And something in the room… settled.

What was happening here wasn’t complicated.

Rock was worried.

Not just about Regal - about her.

Always about Gwendolyn.

His loyalty to her wasn’t a question.

It never had been. He might have worked for Regal, followed him across two continents and three productions, but when it came to Gwendloyn… Rock’s center of gravity shifted.

Whatever his reasons… that was.

So when Regal had spiraled the night before, gone distant and then half-delirious over some dream that ended in a panic… Gwendolyn hadn’t shown it.

She never showed it.

But Rock had noticed.

So had Regal.

And Rock - who could lift a camera rig in one hand and break a man’s collarbone in the other, had done the only thing he could.

He had stood there.

Now, seeing her laugh again, seeing her back to herself… It was too much.

The dam didn’t break. But it cracked.

Finally, Rock spoke.

Voice a touch low, but steady. “Okay. That wasn’t a lie.”

That was all he said.

But it was enough.

Regal laughed, a breath escaping like he hadn’t realized he had been holding it.
“Haaa… of course it isn’t.”

Gwendolyn didn’t say anything.

But now… She saw it now - what was behind all of this.

There was something comforting in the absurdity of it.

His bodyguard had turned into her guardian.

Her boyfriend into her compass.

And she, somehow, had become the gravity that held both in place.

That day, Regal understood something he hadn’t fully realized before.

You don’t mess with Gwen.

Because behind her?

There is a mountain. A mountain in sneakers and a black t-shirt who doesn’t say much but sees everything.

And if someone, somewhere, was foolish enough to cross her…

Well.

Regal almost felt bad for them.

Almost.

Because a small part of him hoped Rock would really lose his temper just once - just to remind the world what kind of loyalty looks like when it bleeds.

.

….

[To be continued…]

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