Chapter 4: Storm Behind the Spotlight
Mid-April 1996 – Viva Studios and Surroundings
Fame has a way of arriving before you expect it—loud, bright, and utterly uninvited.
By the third week of filming Hearts on Fire, Bella and Enzo's screen tests had been edited into teaser clips and distributed to media partners. A single 30-second scene—Celeste and Joaquin in their first embrace—aired during a popular noontime show and exploded across entertainment circles like wildfire.
Within hours, the studio's switchboards lit up with requests for interviews, photo shoots, press kits. Viva's marketing team smelled gold. Two beautiful leads with untapped chemistry. One a legacy star. The other, an accidental heartthrob.
But behind the applause, the storm began to brew.
At a photoshoot in Makati
Bella adjusted her pose for the third layout change, wearing an off-shoulder red dress and heels so sharp her feet had gone numb. Enzo stood beside her in a black suit, his tie slightly askew, looking awkward in the too-glossy world of fashion spreads.
"Closer," the photographer said. "Like you're in love, but trying not to show it."
Bella leaned in slightly. Enzo, unsure of where to place his hands, rested one gently near her waist—but not touching.
"Touch her," the photographer urged.
Enzo hesitated, then obeyed. Bella didn't flinch, but the moment froze stiff.
"Okay... hold... hold... got it!"
The camera flashed furiously. The stylist clapped. The publicist scribbled notes. But as the lights dimmed and the assistants rushed in to fix hair and re-powder cheeks, Bella turned away slightly, pulling her arm from his.
"Sorry," he said quietly.
"It's not you," she replied, sipping from a water bottle. "It's all this. The pretending."
Enzo nodded. "Funny. I thought the pretending was the job."
She looked at him, eyes sharp. "It is. But good pretending feels real."
Their gazes locked again—familiar now, electric still. The same spark the casting director had seen that first day flickered again in silence.
Meanwhile, on set...
Not everyone was thrilled with their growing popularity.
Kai Angeles—supporting actress, social media darling, and seasoned scene-stealer—had taken notice of how the cameras lingered longer on Bella and Enzo's interactions. Her own role, once promised to be a "powerful third lead," had seen two scenes cut already, and she'd been bumped from three promotional materials.
"You're really leaning into the love team thing, huh?" Kai said one afternoon as she passed Bella on the studio lot, sipping her iced coffee with a pointed look.
Bella didn't rise to it. "It's what the script calls for."
"Oh, of course. I just hope you're not getting too invested. These things are seasonal. People move on fast."
"Like they did from your last teleserye?" Pia muttered from behind Bella's shoulder.
Kai smiled, saccharine-sweet. "Tell your assistant to watch her mouth."
Bella held her gaze coolly. "Or what? You'll pout me off the set?"
The air between them froze for a beat too long before Kai sauntered off, her heels clacking like gunshots.
"Catfight brewing," one crew member whispered under his breath.
Later that night – Enzo's apartment
Enzo's world was shifting faster than he could understand. Just two weeks ago, he was skipping meals to save money and dodging calls from his landlady. Now, stylists were offering him free clothes, magazines were emailing requests for features, and a fan had left a letter outside his apartment door.
His cousin Gab was practically floating. "Bro, your face is in YES! Magazine. You've arrived!"
"I haven't arrived. I'm being tested," Enzo muttered, flipping through the script for next week's scenes. He was scheduled for a confrontation with Bella's character, a vulnerable monologue, and—shockingly—a kiss.
"You nervous about the kiss?" Gab grinned.
"I'm nervous about everything," Enzo admitted. "What if I mess up and they regret casting me?"
Gab tilted his head. "But what if you're the reason this show works?"
That thought lingered in Enzo's head long after the lights went out.
Two days later – On location in Taal
The cast and crew gathered for a three-day outdoor shoot by the lake. Bella arrived early, in jeans and a white linen blouse, minimal makeup, coffee in hand. Enzo showed up ten minutes later, lugging his backpack and guitar—a habit he'd developed to calm nerves between scenes.
During lunch, he sat under a tree, strumming the opening chords of an old folk song. Bella, hearing the music, drifted over and sat on the grass nearby.
"I didn't know you played," she said.
"Self-taught," he replied. "Music made more sense than math growing up."
"Play something else?"
He did. A soft, lilting melody. She leaned back, eyes closed, sunlight painting her cheeks.
"You ever wonder what life would be like without all this?" she asked suddenly.
"The fame? The pressure?"
"The pretending."
Enzo stopped strumming. "I think pretending helps people survive."
Bella looked at him, eyes vulnerable now. "You're different, Enzo. That's not a compliment. It's a warning."
He smiled faintly. "Then warn me again tomorrow."
The next scene – The Kiss
Everyone held their breath as the clapboard snapped shut.
Scene 39: Celeste and Joaquin, by the lake, after a brutal argument, find each other again. It ends in a kiss. Not scripted as passionate—just real.
Bella's heart beat loud in her ears. She'd done dozens of kisses for screen. But this time, her nerves didn't come from cameras. They came from Enzo.
He said his lines. She responded.
He stepped forward, hands brushing hers. Her breath caught. The moment slowed.
He leaned in.
And for the first time in Bella's career, she wasn't acting. Not completely.
Their lips met—and the scene held.
When the director called cut, no one moved.
Until, quietly, a crew member said, "That's the one."
Back at the hotel that night
Bella sat on her balcony, robe wrapped around her, tea in hand. The lake shimmered below.
A soft knock.
She opened the door.
Enzo stood there, unsure.
"I just... wanted to say... thanks," he said. "For making me better."
She studied him for a long time. "We make each other better. But this—whatever this is—it's going to get complicated."
He nodded. "Probably."
And yet, he didn't leave.
And she didn't close the door.