The Life I Was Waiting For

The night Cameron Baxter won Best Actor, I was backstage cleaning up his ninety-ninth dating rumor. When a reporter asked whom he wanted to dedicate the award to, Cameron looked straight into the cameras and smiled. "To someone who waited for me for years—and someone I've let down far too long." Standing just outside the spotlight, my heart stumbled in my chest. After all, Cameron and I had been secretly married for eight years. Back when he was a broke actor who could not even get a callback, I sold the last piece of jewellery my mother had left me to pay for his acting classes. When a scandal nearly destroyed his career, I stayed up night after night, writing statements, calling publicists, and practically begging a director not to cut him from the film. Then Cameron became a star, and somehow, I became the part of his life he wanted to keep hidden. Still, he always told me the same thing. "When I win Best Actor, I'll tell the world about us." For eight years, I believed him. So that night, as I listened to him speak from the stage, I thought I was finally getting the answer I had waited so long to hear. The awards ceremony was not even over when I headed to his dressing room with the coat he had left behind. I was about to knock when I heard his manager's voice from inside. "Rose called again. She's crying. She said you promised you'd finally give her a real place in your life." There was a long silence before Cameron answered, "I owe her. If I hadn't been marrying Noelle that day, I would've answered her dad's last call." His voice dropped. "She's hated me for it ever since." His manager was quiet for a moment. "What about Noelle?" Cameron did not even hesitate. "Noelle understands me. She won't make a scene." Standing outside that door, I almost laughed. For eight years, I stood steadfast at his side, swallowing disappointment after disappointment, sacrificing pieces of myself for a life I thought we were building together. But to Cameron, none of it meant what I thought it did. I was not his wife. I was simply convenient. At three o'clock that morning, my phone buzzed with a breaking-news alert: Cameron was seen leaving the hotel with Rose Berger, their hands clasped together as cameras flashed. But that was not what made my breath catch. It was the ring on Rose's finger. I recognized it immediately. It was my wedding ring. The same ring Cameron had slipped onto my finger eight years earlier at our quiet city hall ceremony. No guests. No flowers. Not even a single photograph. Then I saw Cameron's post. He had uploaded the picture himself and added only four words beneath it: "The answer, long overdue." I stared at the screen for a long time before finally turning off my phone. I did not call him. I did not demand an explanation. I did not even cry. By then, I felt too exhausted for any of it. Instead, I opened my laptop and booked the first flight I could find to Rimevik, a remote northern country thousands of miles away. By sunrise, my suitcase was packed, and for the first time in eight years, I was ready to leave him behind. I had spent far too long standing on the sidelines while Cameron lived his life in the spotlight, always believing I would be there no matter what he did. But not anymore. After eight years of watching his story unfold, I was finally done being his audience. Chapter 1 The Passcode He Forgot At 4:30 a.m., I heard the front door unlock. I was sitting on the living room rug, scanning the last contract into my laptop when Cameron walked in, smelling faintly of whiskey and expensive cologne. The moment he saw me, he stopped. "You're still awake?" I kept my eyes on the screen. "I had some work to finish." He seemed to be in a good mood. He crossed the room to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, and loosened his tie on the way back. "Today was insane, but at least I finally got the award. The offers should be better from here on out, and maybe the studio will finally stop breathing down my neck." "Mm." That was all I gave him. Cameron paused with the bottle halfway to his mouth and glanced over at me. "Noelle, are you upset?" Once, any good news from him would have made me happier than it made him. I would have thrown my arms around him and told him, over and over, that I knew he could do it. I would have taken his hands in mine, tracing every callus, scrape, and scar he had picked up on set, as if each were proof of how hard he had fought to get there. Tonight, I simply glanced at my phone before turning it face down on the rug. "No." Cameron always knew how to make me soften. He walked over, crouched beside me, and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "I just won Best Actor, and you can't even say congratulations?" Before last night, that small gesture probably would have been enough to break down every wall I had tried to build between us. Now, I only looked at him and said, "Congratulations." The word came out flat and dry, nothing like the Noelle he was used to. Cameron studied me for a few seconds before suddenly reaching down to take my phone. I instinctively hit the lock button with my thumb, and his expression changed immediately. "You're hiding your phone from me?" "I'm not." "Then, unlock it." I finally looked up at him. "I told you, it's just work." A faint laugh escaped him, but it held no humor. "Eight years, Noelle. Since when do you have secrets I'm not allowed to see?" He held the phone out toward me. "Passcode." I was silent for a moment before answering, "My birthday." The room seemed to go still. Cameron's thumb hovered over the screen for a few seconds before he finally entered six digits. The passcode was wrong. He tried again, but the second attempt failed too. By the third, he stopped altogether, his thumb frozen above the screen. Watching him struggle to remember suddenly brought me back to our first year of marriage. Cameron had broken two ribs while filming a stunt for a low-budget action movie. When he woke from anesthesia, drenched in sweat and barely able to speak, the first thing he asked me was what day it was. Still half-drugged, he frowned and asked, "Your birthday's coming up. I didn't forget to order your cake, did I?" Back then, even while lying in a hospital bed in pain, he had remembered that I loved chestnut cream. Over time, Cameron became increasingly busy. Eventually, the only reminder of my birthday was an automated coupon from a shopping app. He finally handed the phone back to me, his voice noticeably softer. "When did you change it?" "A while ago." "Why didn't you tell me?" I took the phone from his hand and almost laughed. "Did you ever ask?" His expression darkened. He opened his mouth as if to answer, but before he could, his phone rang. The screen lit up with one name—Rose. Such an ordinary name, yet somehow it was enough to cut straight through what little dignity I had spent years trying to piece back together. Cameron glanced at me before turning toward the balcony to answer the call, but Rose was crying so hard I could still hear her from across the room. "Cameron, my hand hurts. The ring is stuck. I can't get it off…" His brow furrowed immediately. "Don't cry. I'm coming over." I stayed on the rug where I was, attached the final contract to the email, then hit "Send." When Cameron looked back at me, he seemed as if he wanted to explain himself. Then again, perhaps he had simply decided there was nothing to explain. "Something happened to Rose." I gave a small nod. "Then, go." For some reason, my answer only seemed to irritate him more. "Noelle, do you really have to be like this?" he asked. "You know I hate it when you get passive-aggressive." I kept my voice calm. "I told you to go. Which part of that sounded like I was trying to stop you?" His jaw tightened, but he had no answer. At the door, Cameron put on his shoes and grabbed the Best Actor trophy he had brought home. He held it, looked at it for a moment, then seemed to reconsider and set it back down. A few seconds later, the door closed behind him. Almost immediately, my phone buzzed with a new message. It was from the airline. 'Your flight has been confirmed.' I stared at the notification for a moment before switching off my phone. The apartment fell silent again. Cameron's trophy remained beneath the dim living room light, exactly where he had left it. For years, I had watched him perform for everyone around him while convincing myself that the man he showed me in private was the real Cameron. But as I looked at that trophy now, I began to wonder if I had been wrong all along. Maybe I had simply mistaken one performance for another, and this one had gone on far too long. Chapter 2 The Ring on Her Finger It was almost dawn when Cameron came back, and this time, he was not alone. Rose stood beside him with his suit jacket draped over her shoulders, while he carefully supported her right hand in his. Her eyes were still red from crying. I was at the dining table, slipping several signed documents into a manila envelope, when they walked in. The moment Cameron saw me, his brows knitted together. "You haven't slept at all?" Before I could answer, Rose shifted half a step behind him. "Noelle, I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd still be here." My eyes dropped to her left hand, and that was when I saw it. My wedding ring was sitting on her ring finger. Eight years ago, Cameron bought that ring with the money he had saved from his background acting jobs, when he only earned 200 dollars a day. Inside the band was a crooked little engraving he had chosen himself: Only N. I still remembered those early years in our tiny apartment, when Cameron would hold my hand and talk about replacing the ring someday, once he was earning enough money. Back then, I had believed him. Eventually, Cameron did start making real money. He just forgot about the ring, along with the promise that came with it. I stared at it now without saying anything. Cameron followed my gaze, and for the first time since he walked in, he seemed to remember exactly what Rose was wearing. "The swelling got worse," he explained quickly. "The doctor said we shouldn't force the ring off right now, so she has to keep it on until her hand goes down." I gave a small nod. "It suits her." Rose's eyes filled with tears. "Noelle, please don't misunderstand. There's nothing going on between Cameron and me. He just feels guilty about what happened years ago. He's only trying to make it up to me." When I still did not respond, she reached out and caught Cameron by the sleeve. "Maybe I should leave. I don't want Noelle to get upset because of me." His expression darkened. "Your hand is still swollen. Where exactly are you supposed to go?" Then, he turned to me as if the solution were obvious. "Noelle, clear out the guest room. Rose can stay here for a couple of days." My hand paused over the envelope. "My luggage is in there." "Then, move it into the study." He said it so easily that for a moment, I simply stared at him. Over the years, Cameron had grown accustomed to asking me to step aside. I had given up my time, my sleep, and even credit for work I had done on his s. Whenever someone important came along, I was always the one who quietly slipped into the background. Apparently, now I was expected to give up a room too. A small laugh escaped me. "Cameron, do you even remember what's in the study?" He frowned, so I answered for him. "Your first audition tape is in there, along with drafts of more than 300 emails I wrote when your career was falling apart. The original contracts from the year when no studio wanted to touch you are there, too. I spent months fighting to keep those deals from being canceled." Rose bit her lip before saying softly, "Noelle, you shouldn't say it like that. You make it sound like Cameron only has everything he has today because of you." I looked at her. "Then, was it because of you?" The room fell silent. Cameron's expression turned cold immediately. "That's enough." He stepped slightly in front of Rose, shielding her from me. It was such a small movement, yet somehow it hurt more than if he had slapped me. "Rose isn't feeling well," he continued. "She doesn't need you attacking her." I lowered my eyes and continued sealing the envelope. "What? You won one Best Actor trophy, and suddenly, no one's allowed to tell the truth in your house?" His jaw tightened. "I already told you she isn't well. Stop provoking her." I looked up at him again. "She isn't well, so she gets to wear my wedding ring and sleep in my guest room?" For the first time, a flicker of discomfort crossed his face. I held his gaze. "Does she get my husband too?" My voice never rose, but that only seemed to make the words land harder. Rose suddenly pressed a hand to her chest as her breathing turned shallow. "Cameron… I… I can't breathe." His expression changed at once. He caught her as she leaned into him, wrapped an arm around her, and quickly led her toward the door. Just before leaving, he looked back at me. "Noelle, if anything happens to her because of this, I'll never forgive you." Then, he walked out with Rose, and the door slammed shut behind them. I stood there for a while after they left, too drained to move. It was not until I noticed a folded sheet of paper on the floor where Rose had been standing that I finally bent down to pick it up. It was her medical report. My eyes skimmed the page before settling on the diagnosis: mild anxiety. I stared at it for several seconds, caught somewhere between wanting to laugh and feeling sorry for myself. Then, the front door suddenly opened again. Cameron was back. For a brief moment, I thought Cameron had come back because he noticed Rose had dropped the paper. Maybe he had seen the diagnosis and finally realized how absurd the whole situation was. However, he did not even glance at me. He walked straight past me and disappeared into the study. A moment later, he returned carrying an old wooden box in both hands. The instant I saw it, the composure I had been holding onto all night finally began to crack. Chapter 3 One Last Favor I asked, "What are you doing with that?" The trunk had belonged to my mom. Inside was the pale blue shawl she had worn during her final stage performance, along with a pair of earrings—the only piece of her jewelry I had never been able to bring myself to sell. I reached for the trunk, but Cameron moved it out of reach. "Rose has to film a video for her fans tonight. She's already upset, and her team wants something personal in the background. Something meaningful." For a moment, I thought I had heard him wrong. "That belonged to my mother." "We're just borrowing it." "Cameron." My voice trembled despite my efforts to stay calm. "You gave her my wedding ring, and now, you want to use my mom's belongings to make her seem sympathetic?" His expression hardened. "Noelle, do you have to make everything sound so ugly?" I shot back, "Am I making it sound ugly, or are you just finally hearing what you're doing?" Cameron fell silent for a moment, then let out a humorless laugh. "I won Best Actor tonight. Every camera in the industry is on me right now. If Rose has a public breakdown, the press will turn it into a story about how I abandoned her after everything that happened." He looked straight at me. "You've been with me for eight years. You know I can't afford a mess right now." I said nothing, and for a moment, neither did he. Then his expression softened. "Noelle, help me one last time. Please?" A bitter smile tugged at my lips. 'So, he still remembers how to ask nicely when he wants something from me.' Funny, though. I could not remember the last time he had spoken to me so gently without wanting something in return. Somewhere along the way, his apologies, his soft words, even the rare moments when he swallowed his pride had all begun to mean the same thing. He needed me to give up something else. My hand slowly fell away from the trunk. Cameron carried it toward the door, then looked back at me. "Once all this settles, I'll take you somewhere for your birthday." I smiled faintly. "My birthday was three months ago." He stopped for a second, but he never turned around. … At ten that morning, Cameron's manager called me into the studio. The moment I stepped into the dressing room, I saw Rose sitting in front of the mirror with my mom's shawl wrapped around her shoulders. The pale blue fabric rested softly against her skin. Her makeup was almost nonexistent, except for the carefully reddened corners of her eyes. When she saw me, she ran her fingers over the shawl. "It's beautiful, Noelle. Cameron said it was just an old costume piece. I didn't realize it was valuable." I did not answer her. Instead, I looked at Cameron. He was standing across the room, reviewing the rundown for the livestream. To everyone else, he was always composed, gracious, and gentle. Even when he was being cruel, he somehow managed to make it look as though he were simply cleaning up someone else's mess. I demanded, "Give me the shawl." Cameron looked up. "She'll give it back after the livestream." "I want it now!" He closed the folder in his hands, walked over, and lowered his voice. "Noelle, don't start." A bitter laugh escaped me. "My mom is dead, Cameron. I'm asking for something she left me, and somehow I'm the one causing a scene?" He stared at me for several seconds before lifting a hand to straighten the collar of my blouse. For one dangerous second, I glimpsed the boy he was eight years ago. The boy who would take off his jacket and wrap it around me when I was cold, the same boy who had once convinced me I was the most important person to him. Yet, whatever tenderness remained in the gesture never reached his eyes. He said, "You used to know when to let things go." I turned my head away. His fingers fell through empty air. A flicker of irritation crossed his face. "I know what you're angry about," he said, his tone softening again. "The ring, Rose, and the pictures last night. I know it all hurt you." He paused before continuing. "But tonight matters. Let me finish the livestream, and then I'll take you home. I'll make it up to you properly." If I had not heard what he said in the dressing room the night before and had not seen my wedding ring on Rose's hand, I might have believed him. Even then, some foolish part of me almost wanted to. I looked at him and forced a smile that hurt more than tears. "How?" His expression relaxed slightly. "However you want." "Anything?" "Anything." I held his gaze. "Then, tell everyone I'm your wife." The smile disappeared from his face. Across the room, Rose gave a quiet cough. Cameron remained silent for a moment before answering in a controlled voice, "Noelle, don't test me with something like that." I stared at him. "Test you?" "You want me to say I can't live without you? Fine." He looked down at me with the same eyes that had pulled me back in more times than I could count. "I'll admit it. No one has mattered more to me over the past eight years than you." My chest tightened, but he was not finished. "Going public isn't some little romantic gesture. It affects my contracts, the studio, endorsements—everything." Then came the words that finally killed whatever hope I still had left. "You're an adult, Noelle. Stop acting like you need a public label to prove I love you." For a moment, I could barely breathe. For eight years, Cameron had asked me to wait, and each time I convinced myself it was only temporary. I never asked him for much in return. All I wanted now was for him to acknowledge me as his wife after all we had been through. Yet somehow, even that was too much to ask. To him, wanting to be called his wife made me childish. The dressing room door opened, and a production assistant leaned inside. "Cameron? We're live in ten." He nodded before turning back to me. "You'll stay backstage and watch the rundown. Make sure nothing goes wrong." I did not move. His brows drew together. "Noelle." My voice came out quieter than I expected. "I quit." The room went silent, and every head turned toward me. Cameron stared at me as if I had just said something impossible. "What?" "I'm done." I met his gaze. "I'm no longer your publicist or assistant. I'm done being the woman behind the curtain, making sure you always look perfect." From the mirror, Rose watched me carefully. For the briefest second, satisfaction flashed in her eyes. It disappeared almost immediately, replaced by another wounded expression. "Cameron, it's okay," she said softly. "Noelle's obviously upset. I can explain everything myself." Cameron did not even look at her. He was still staring at me. Then, slowly, he laughed. "You're serious? If this is your way of getting me to chase after you, you're taking it a little far tonight." I froze. Even after everything, Cameron still did not believe me. For eight years, I had swallowed every hurt, stayed when I should have walked away, and given in whenever he pushed too far. And now, the one time I finally told him I was leaving, he dismissed it as just another attempt to get his attention. Cameron had already turned away. He picked up my mom's wooden trunk and handed it to a production assistant. "Get this on set." Then, he glanced at his manager. "Deactivate Noelle's staff credentials and keep her away from the control room. She's too emotional tonight." Chapter 4 The Statement He Wrote for Me Once the livestream started, security stopped me in the second-floor hallway. Below, the ballroom was bathed in light, and Cameron stood at the center of the stage, perfectly composed under the cameras. The host smiled at him. "You won Best Actor tonight, and there are a lot of people waiting to hear what you have to say. Cameron, is there anything you'd like to tell them?" He accepted the microphone. "First, I want to thank everyone who's supported me." The live comments raced across the screen. 'You deserve this!' 'Give Rose the answer she's been waiting for!' 'Don't make her cry anymore!' My fingers tightened around the railing as a production assistant led Rose onto the stage. The moment Cameron looked at her, his expression softened. "There's someone who stood by me during one of the hardest periods of my life." Rose covered her mouth as tears filled her eyes, and the audience erupted in cheers and applause. I stood in the shadows above them, my stomach twisting. … A few seconds later, Cameron's manager rushed down the hallway toward me, holding a sheet of paper. "Noelle, sign this." I took one look at it and realized it was a prepared statement that read, 'I, Noelle Gill, worked with Mr. Cameron Baxter in the early years of his career...' I read through the rest before letting out a short laugh. "Who wrote this?" His manager avoided my eyes. "It's what Cameron wants." "He wants me to sign it?" "He knows you're upset right now. He said that if you help get everyone through tonight, he won't hold any of this against you." I stared at him, almost amused. 'Won't hold any of this against me? How generous.' I pushed the statement back into his hands. "No." His expression tightened. "Noelle, don't be stupid. Do you have any idea how much attention he's getting right now? Do you really want to destroy his career?" I gazed at the stage. Cameron was gently wiping a tear from Rose's cheek as if she were something fragile and precious. My mom's shawl still draped around her shoulders. One corner had slipped onto the floor, and Rose stepped on it without noticing, leaving a gray streak of dust across the pale blue fabric. I looked back at his manager. "I can't destroy Cameron." "Then, sign it." "But I'm not saving him anymore." His expression shifted. Before I could step away, he grabbed my wrist. "Noelle, don't forget the authorization you signed years ago. We can still release this statement without your signature." My stomach dropped. I knew exactly what he meant. Years ago, when the press was tearing Cameron apart, I had given his management team broad permission to handle communications on my behalf. Every hour mattered, and I was terrified that even the slightest delay could cost him his career. I was afraid the studios would drop him before he ever got a real chance, so I let his team issue statements about my work with him whenever they thought it was necessary. I trusted Cameron enough to believe he would never use that permission against me. Now, he was doing exactly that. A burst of applause rose from downstairs, followed by Cameron's voice through the speakers. "As for Ms. Noelle Gill, she's someone I'm very grateful to have worked with early in my career. "She helped me through a lot back then. But because she cared too much about work boundaries, certain boundaries blurred, which led to some misunderstandings." Every muscle in my body went rigid. For a moment, I could not move. Then a spotlight swept across the second floor and stopped directly on me. One by one, the cameras turned toward me. The host looked up in surprise. "Oh, she's actually here tonight. Perfect. Why don't we let her clear things up herself?" Cameron's manager immediately shoved the statement back into my hands. "Read it exactly as written," he whispered. "Don't embarrass Cameron." I did not move. Instead, I looked at the stage. Cameron was already looking back at me. I knew that expression. I had seen it countless times over the past eight years—calm, certain, almost patient. He believed I would give in because I always had. Whenever Cameron needed something, I found a way to give it to him. My time, money, name, and pride—piece by piece, I had given up parts of myself so he could keep moving forward without ever looking back. He was so used to me clearing the way that it never crossed his mind I might actually step back. Standing beneath the spotlight with his statement in my hand, I finally understood what I had become. For years, I was like a lamp burning in the darkness, guiding Cameron when he had no one else. But now daylight had arrived. He no longer needed the light I gave him. Worse still, he seemed to resent me simply for continuing to burn. Chapter 5 You Win I looked down at the statement in my hands. It was only one thin sheet of paper, yet somehow it felt heavier than anything I had ever held. Cameron's manager leaned closer. "Read it, Noelle. Everyone's waiting." Dozens of cameras were pointed at me from below. I looked at them for a moment, then smiled. I took the microphone, walked down to the stage, and unfolded the statement under the bright lights. For a second, Cameron's smile faltered. He clearly had not expected me to cooperate so easily. I looked directly into the cameras and began to read, "I, Noelle Gill, worked with Mr. Cameron Baxter in the early years of his career. There has never been a marriage or romantic relationship between us." The ballroom fell silent, but I continued, "Online claims that Mr Baxter and I were secretly married, or that I exercised personal control over his career behind the scenes, are false." Every word felt like I was cutting away a piece of myself, but somewhere along the way, the pain began to fade. "Because of my emotions, I caused unnecessary trouble for Mr. Cameron Baxter and Ms. Rose Berger. I sincerely apologize to both of them." When I finished, I folded the statement and handed it back to his manager. The room immediately erupted in applause. Rose's eyes welled with tears as she embraced Cameron. "Cameron, Noelle finally gets it." He did not answer her. Instead, he was staring at me. Gradually, his brows furrowed as if my reaction unsettled him. Perhaps I was too composed. I was not crying, asking questions, causing a scene, or pleading for him to stay. I was not acting like the Noelle he knew. Cameron took a step toward me. "Noelle, I'll take you home when this is over." I shook my head. "No need." His expression tightened. "Where are you going?" "Home." Relief flickered across his face. That familiar gentleness returned to his voice—the kind that had always sounded like affection, yet somehow ended with me doing exactly what he wanted. "Be good. You did well tonight," he said quietly. "Go home and wait for me." I glanced at him briefly before asking the final thing I would ever ask, "Cameron, can I have my mom's shawl back now?" He hesitated. Rose immediately pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders. "But, Noelle, we haven't finished yet." Cameron rubbed his forehead. "I'll bring it back tomorrow." I looked at him, then simply nodded. "Okay." There was nothing left to say. I turned and walked away without looking back. Behind me, the ballroom still glowed under the lights as the cameras kept rolling and the crowd kept cheering. Beside Cameron, Rose wiped away her tears as though everything had gone exactly as they wanted. And maybe it had. Just not for me. … Two hours later, my plane climbed above the clouds. I sat by the window and watched the city lights fade beneath me until they disappeared. For eight years, I had given Cameron everything I had and asked for almost nothing in return. In the end, he got exactly what he wanted. He won. … At eleven thirty that night, Cameron returned to the apartment carrying a chestnut cream cake he had driven halfway across the city to find. On the way home, he had already imagined how the night would go. I would still be upset, probably sitting in the living room and refusing to look at him, but he was not worried. He had always known how to coax me out of a bad mood. He would sit beside me, hold me for a while, and maybe celebrate my birthday properly at last. It was three months late, but in his mind, better late than never. Cameron unlocked the door and stepped inside. "Noelle?" There was no answer. The living room was dark, so he turned on the light, expecting to see me curled up on the sofa. However, the room was empty. He checked the bedroom next, then the rest of the apartment. By the time he reached the study, a strange sense of unease had begun to settle over him. Then, he stopped. My laptop was gone. So were my passport, documents, and the coats I wore most often. Cameron stood there for several seconds, staring at the empty spaces as the confidence he had carried all night slowly faded. He pulled out his phone and called me. Then, an automated message came through the speaker, and Cameron went still.