contains: angst, jaafar lwk being stupid, mentions of maddie, cliffhanger 👀.
a/n: this is my first time ever writing a fanfic— enjoy :3 !!
there’s something cruel about loving someone that the entire world believed belonged to somebody else.
maybe it would hurt less if you met him after the fame - if he was just another celebrity whose smile you adored from the screen.
you knew jaafar jackson long before the press; before the interviews and the headlines; before the cameras, and the autographs.
you knew the boy who carelessly scraped his knees while playing with his family in his grandparents backyard - the teenager who loved to golf, the man who reached for your hand every time there was no one watching.
that just made tonight even more unbearable.
“there she is.” someone from the jackson family excitedly called, waving at you.
you forced a smile and waved back.
A chorus of congratulations floated across the room. glasses of champagne clinking together as the sound of shuttering cameras fills empty space.
at the center, jaafar stood with one arm wrapped his fiancé, maddie. the diamond on her finger dancing in the light before your eyes found his.
he looked at you only for a second. a second long enough for you to see it.
then, he smiled for more pictures.
“aren’t they so beautiful together?” a question snapping you out of your daze.
“they really are,” you smiled.
as the night went on, you slipped outside with hopes of going unnoticed.
you spent the past few hours smiling until your cheeks ached and hugging relatives of the man who whispered, “i love you” into your ear less than twenty-four hours ago.
you tried to convince yourself that you were happy for him. you wanted to be.
as if on cue, you heard the sound of faint footsteps falling behind you.
“i’ve been looking for you.”
you didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. you could recognize that voice from anywhere.
“congratulations,” you say, trying to hide your bitter tone.
there was a beat of silence before he replied, “thank you.”
silence settled between the two of you as you kept your back turned, eyes fixed on the backyard. you refused to look at him.
“was today always the plan?”
he walked up to you, standing beside you now, “what?”
“the proposal,” your voice barely rose above a whisper. “was that always the plan?”
another beat of silence, followed by a quiet, “yes.”
“So,” you trailed off, “yesterday, when you told me you loved me, you already had the ring?” you swallowed the lump forming in your throat.
“it doesn’t change anything,” he whispered.
you stared at him in disbelief, “seriously? nothing’s changed?”
“i’m still here, aren’t i,” he asked softly, reaching out for your hands, “i came looking for you.”
a bitter laugh left your lips as you moved your hands away from his.
his brows furrowed in genuine confusion, “i don’t understand why you’re acting like this.”
your expression faltered, “you don’t understand?”
“i still love you,” he paused, “and i’m here.”
you shook your head, “that’s the problem, jaafar.”
“you still get me,” you continued, “you still get to come over whenever you want. you still get to tell me you love me. you still get to kiss me.”
“but now, she gets everything else.”
he opened his mouth, but you didn’t let him speak.
“she gets to hold your hand in public and wear your ring. she gets to stand beside you in every interview. she gets to smile in pictures while everyone calls her ‘mrs. jackson’,” you scoff before continuing, “and i get whatever’s left after the cameras stop rolling.”
“that’s not what this is,” he diffident declared.
You challenged, “no?” furrowing your brows, you feel yourself getting more frustrated.
“then tell me what it is.” you blinked back the sting in your eyes, “when reporters ask who you’re marrying, and your family starts planning the wedding, where do i fit into that?”
he held your gaze, “you act like you lost me.”
a crease formed between his brows as he took another step closer.
“i’m standing right here.”
“i’m not talking about tonight.”
silence settled between the two of you.
“i don’t know what you want me to say,” he glances at his loafers with bated breath, waiting for your next words.
a bitter smile tugged at your lips, “i don’t want you to say anything.”
he searched your face for a moment as if the answer would be etched into your features.
you felt that all too familiar lump form in your throat as you looked past him, into the open doors, where laughter spilled into the night and cameras continued to flash.
“i wanted you to choose me,”
“and choose me when everyone was watching.”
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