The Bright Moon Has No Light, But I Was Always Radiant

The year James James loved me most, he made a promise: once I won my award, we'd get married.

At the ceremony, he took the Best Actress trophy that had been meant for me and handed it to Charity Cox, a short-drama actress.

Eight years together, and it didn't matter. If Charity wanted it, he'd give away anything of mine without a second thought.

Small things like business partnerships. Big things like global endorsements.

I gave everything I had to win that award.

I broke three ribs shooting the action scenes, and I was nearly assaulted by local thugs.

He knew all of it.

I broke down and asked him why he would do this.

His answer was light, almost breezy:

"It's precisely because I watched how hard every step was for you that I don't want a young girl like her to suffer that much."

"Helping her is just like helping you back when you had no one."

"Sweetheart, you don't need this award. Don't be so petty about it, all right?"

He was aching for the old me.

And looking straight through the me standing in front of him.

Then we'd just never see each other again.

A hashtag was trending about me. The harder she tries, the more pathetic it gets.

I didn't have the courage to open it.

Three days locked inside, not stepping out once.

They doxxed me anyway.

Some were my own fans, saying I was a lost cause, that they'd wasted their eyes ever liking me, wishing me an early death.

Some were Charity's fans, saying it didn't matter how good my acting was, I still couldn't beat Charity with James backing her, that I wasn't even fit to carry Charity's shoes.

The bedroom light snapped on.

It stung, and I shut my eyes.

James looked at the mess across the floor, at the shattered wedding photo, and his voice went tight with anger:

"Celine Pierce, what is it this time? Why didn't you go to the after-party?"

"Do you have any idea what the press is writing about Charity?"

I looked at him calmly. I had no urge left to fight.

It wasn't that I'd never fought.

The first time he replaced me as the regular guest on a variety show with Charity.

I stormed into the company and had it out with him, the whole place shaking. I tagged him and Charity on social media, called them a pair of scheming snakes.

He had the company put out a statement saying I was mentally unstable, that they'd replaced me only after a professional evaluation.

When Charity snatched a brand endorsement from me, I rushed to the set and slapped James across the face, and beat Charity badly enough that she nearly lost her looks.

Then he had the marketing accounts publish that I was the ringleader bullying a newcomer. I stayed on the trending lists for a full six months, and paid contract penalties until I was scraped clean.

Those miserable days.

Every one of them, still vivid.

"Then why don't you look at what people are calling me?"

Right there at the entryway was a photoshopped funeral portrait of me, and a package with a dead snake inside.

James frowned:

"Just turn off your phone. Don't open the door and you won't see any of it, right?"

"It's not the first time you've been cursed at. You're not used to it by now?"

"But Charity is different. She just got into this industry."

So I deserved it?

I asked, "Do you still remember the first time I got torn apart online?"

Back then Sever Studios was on the edge of going under.

To keep the company alive, I drank at those business dinners until I threw up blood.

People spread rumors that I'd let some bigwig use me for resources and gotten hurt doing it.

James filed suit against hundreds of them and dragged them into court.

He held me, aching for me, and said he'd grow strong, that he'd never let me be hurt even a little.

He kept that promise.

Now the company stands alone at the top of the domestic market.

But every wound I carry comes from him.

James lowered his lashes. "You can't live in the past. Don't bring up all that stale, moldy old business."

A fine, prickling ache spread through my heart.

I'd been trapped in memories far too long.

"James, have you forgotten? You said the moment I won one more award, I'd retire and marry you."

He stepped forward and pulled me in. "Charity's foundation is weak. She needs this award so badly."

"You're retiring anyway. Winning or not doesn't matter. Next time I'll make sure the award goes to you, all right?"

Give it to me?

But this award was mine to begin with.

I pushed him away.

Three years ago he'd already said next time.

I believed him, once and then again.

There wouldn't be a next time.

And I'd stopped wanting to marry him a long time ago.

I took out my phone and replied to an email.

I accept the long-term contract with Hollywood.

I went to the after-party.

I was going to announce that I was quitting the industry.

The party was a lavish affair.

It wasn't only the company's talent who showed up, but names from every corner of the industry.

Charity stood at the center of the crowd on James's arm, everyone orbiting around her.

When they saw me arrive, old colleagues who used to be friendly murmured among themselves. Not one of them came over to say hello.

That's how this world works: praise those on top, trample those beneath.

Once you have no value left, you'll hardly find a single smile.

Three years of this. I'd long since gotten used to the cold looks.

Charity spotted me and came over, taking my hand.

"Celine, I've been waiting and waiting for you to get here."

"You're my lucky charm, you know. If it weren't for all your hard work, I never would've won this award."

She winked at me. "Keep it up, Celine. I want to sweep every award there is."

That taunting posture.

Nothing like the timid little thing who'd stolen my Best Actress trophy three years ago.

"Is my blood sweet? Go on and enjoy it. This is the last time you'll get to."

I threw off her hand.

Charity let herself fall to the floor with it, dropping to her knees in front of me.

Eyes turned toward us from every direction.

She wept prettily, tears streaming down.

"I was wrong, Celine. I'll give you the trophy, just don't be angry."

"And please stop letting your fans mob me and curse me online. I really didn't mean any of it."

"I'm just a small-time actress. I'm begging you, don't blacklist me."

The next second someone slammed into me, hard.

The champagne along the table went over all at once.

The wine splashed down my body.

Then James's voice came, cool.

"With me here, who exactly do you think you're going to blacklist?"

He looked down at Charity on the floor and rounded on me.

"Celine, bullying Charity again."

"Can't win an award yourself, so don't drag innocent people into it. You've got a temper, take it out on me."

He must have learned his lesson from all the times before.

He shielded Charity behind him, guarding against me like I was some raging flood.

I smoothed the wet hair at my temple, my sorry state a stark contrast to Charity, whose makeup hadn't smudged at all.

"Who's really bullying who here?"

"You're saying Charity, a Best Actress winner, threw her own reputation away just to kneel to me?"

"Or that I somehow forced her to her knees in front of everyone?"

"Don't waste your breath, Celine. I know exactly what kind of person Charity is."

We'd met in college. More than ten years I'd known him.

And he chose to believe Charity, who he'd known barely three.

The lines between close and distant couldn't have been clearer.

"Think whatever you want."

I wasn't there to argue with them again.

I gave James one last disappointed look and turned to go.

James watched my back, and something in his chest ached, from where he couldn't say.

He started to say something. Charity tugged at the hem of his shirt. "James, I don't feel well."

James quickly scooped her up in his arms.

As they passed me, Charity kicked out and knocked me to the ground, as if by accident.

James's step faltered. He moved to help me up.

But Charity, in his arms, clutched his collar and thrashed. "It hurts, my stomach suddenly hurts so much. Am I going to die?"

James knotted his brow, his gaze sweeping over me without a trace of feeling.

"If anything happens to Charity, I'll make you pay for it."

For a moment the world blurred.

Back when I was filming.

An actor had gone too far in a scene and smashed a beer bottle over my head.

That was exactly how James had threatened that actor.

The person he'd once shielded had become the person he stood against.

The shards of glass driving into my thigh felt like they were driving into my heart.

The pain went almost numb.

James didn't spare me another glance. He carried Charity out.

I got up off the floor, wiped the mess from my clothes without much care, and walked calmly into the middle of the party.

I picked up a microphone.

"I, Celine Pierce, am announcing here and now that as of today, I'm quitting the industry."

The words set off an uproar.

James's body went rigid.

He froze where he stood.

He looked back at me from across the room, and in the end he didn't turn back.

As it happened, I wasn't waiting for him anymore either.

Once I got home, I cleaned the wound quickly and lay down to sleep.

To my surprise, James actually came back.

Back when Charity had some small ache or fever, he could sit up all night watching over her.

If I asked about it, he'd say I was being childish, jealous even of his brothers and sisters.

Later, once I'd given up on him for good,

I stopped bothering to ask.

We shared the same room.

Both of us silent.

James spoke first.

"Celine, you wrecked Charity's after-party, humiliated her, and nearly made her lose the baby..."

He tugged at his tie, irritated.

"Give Charity that suspense film you just landed. Call it an apology."

I rolled over, turning my back to him.

"I said I'm quitting the industry. Don't you understand me?"

I'd sooner throw every resource I had to the dogs than turn any of it into a wedding gown for Charity.

"I'm not discussing this with you. I'm notifying you, in the name of the company."

"Don't use quitting the industry to pressure me into marriage. I said I'd let you win an award next time, and I'd marry you. What more do you want?"

"I've already smoothed this over. Don't bring it up again."

He actually believed I was using my retirement to threaten him into marrying me.

It wasn't the first time he'd threatened me either.

Years ago, to build something alongside him, I signed with his startup company.

I signed a standard-form contract, back when it was all sincerity on both sides.

Then the steep breach penalty held me down and made me give in, again and again.

This time I wouldn't yield.

I didn't answer him.

He gave me a push.

"Why are you so hot? You're running a fever, Celine."

He scrambled to gather me up in his arms.

Four years ago, filming got trapped by a blizzard that sealed off the mountain, and the crew pulled out too late and nearly got buried in the snow.

He dug a path through the snow with his bare hands and got me out.

In that bitter cold, he was frantic enough to be soaked in sweat.

Whatever it stirred in me drained away the instant I caught the smell of a woman's perfume on him.

By the time we reached the hospital, he still hadn't caught his breath.

The doctor said glass had been left in the wound and it had gotten infected.

Cleaning the wound out, I broke into a cold sweat from the pain.

He held out his arm the way he always did. "Bite me if it hurts."

Something in my chest lurched.

Once, a wire snapped and I fractured my hand in the fall.

When they set the bone, he did the same thing. He said he couldn't stand to see me hurting, that he wanted to feel it with me.

But before I could open my mouth, his phone rang.

It was the ringtone he'd set just for Charity.

Once, for a bit part, she went behind James's back to a business dinner and the investors got her drunk.

James had been out celebrating my birthday and missed her call.

When he found out, he was furious.

He crushed that producer, fired Charity's agent,

and even switched her caller ringtone to some tune she'd hummed off the top of her head.

After that, the ringtone came at any moment.

Our anniversary.

While we were in bed together.

And at my grandmother's funeral.

Every single time, that call pulled James away.

I'd fought with him over it, but James's reaction was violent.

"I don't dare let her out of my sight for half a minute. You of all people should know why. You almost got taken advantage of that way once!"

"Celine, you're both women. I'd have thought you, of anyone, would understand that feeling."

So his leaving this time didn't surprise me either.

The doctor picked out a shard of glass and asked me gently, "Does it hurt, dear?"

"It doesn't hurt at all anymore."

I spent one night in the hospital.

My flight to the United States was tomorrow afternoon,

so I meant to leave first thing in the morning.

Instead I heard the familiar voices coming from the room next door.

"Charity, do you really have to go make some movie? What's wrong with staying in short dramas?"

"The short-drama scene is small, and the people in it are easy to manage. With me backing you, the production values will be higher than any full-length film, not lower."

"You can shoot it however you want, take whatever award you want. Isn't that better?"

Charity asked, her voice sulky.

"Why is it fine for Celine and not for me?"

"You're not like her!"

"How am I not like her? The only thing I've got on her is my looks, so where else do I fall short?"

James went quiet.

Just when I had run out of patience to keep listening, he spoke.

"You're clean. I want you to stay clean."

It felt like my chest caved in.

Even my stomach began to burn along with it.

No wonder.

No wonder, three months ago, when a village bachelor groped me on that rural shoot and I called him.

All I got was his cold reply: "Report it to the police first. I have to keep an eye on Charity at her wrap party. I'll come find you once I'm done."

Until the crew got me out.

Until we came back from giving our statements.

Until the wrap, and still not one word from him.

Was it because he thought I wasn't clean, that I wasn't worth it?

The voices in the room went on.

"But I just want to do movies. That film Celine has, the one where the lead's in a wheelchair, let me have it, okay~"

James hesitated.

Because when he asked me to mentor the newly signed Charity, he had promised me she wouldn't compete in my lane.

If she started acting too, the scramble for resources would only get worse.

"Please, James, big brother, husband. Nothing will happen to me with you here."

"And there aren't many hard stunts in the film. I promise I won't hurt the baby."

James caved in the end, laughing softly. "All right, all right, what am I going to do with you."

For a moment my mind went blank.

I could barely breathe.

By the time I came to, I had already shoved the door open. "Baby? James, you and Charity have a baby?"

I had sensed James and Charity crossing a line.

So every year I brought up marriage once, trying to remind James of the promise he had made me.

But I had still been too naive.

I had believed him.

When James saw me, surprise crossed his face, then guilt, and even a flicker of relief.

He stood in front of Charity.

"Since you know now, there's no point hiding it. Charity's pregnant, so that's why I'm not marrying you this time."

"I don't want this child branded an illegitimate bastard the moment it's born, so the marriage has to go to Charity for now. Can you understand that?"

I raised my hand and slapped him across the face.

"You still want me to be your mistress? Understand that yourself!"

"James, we're done."

James took the slap. "I understand you're upset. You're angry right now. We'll talk properly once you've calmed down."

I turned and left.

I didn't look at him again.

Like a stray cloud drifting far off, thinner the farther it got from him.

There it was again.

That feeling of something slipping through my fingers, of being lied to.

James tried to take a step toward me, but Charity threw her arms around him. "Husband, does it hurt? Celine's gone too far. Why would she hit you again?"

Looking at her pretty, coy face, the unease in his heart faded.

How, he thought, could she ever slip away from me?

My contract was signed with his company all along.

Like holding the string of a kite he controlled.

Two days later, in the name of the company I was signed to, he had the film swap the female lead for Charity.

The director was stunned. "Mr. James, you mean the script where Celine was set as the lead?"

"Her? She withdrew from the role three days ago."