04
I had tried countless times to leave, but something kept pulling me back. In the end, I resigned myself to staying by Shane’s side.
They say that after death, a soul lingers in the world for seven days.
And once those seven days pass–then, and only then, will I truly be gone.
Shane seemed as swift and decisive as ever, throwing himself into preparation for the next shoot.
But in truth, everything had changed.
He no longer fixated on the angle of the light, no longer obsessed over the camera’s movements, and no longer argued with the screenwriter about how to convey the protagonist’s emotions.
Instead, he had most of the crew running around–not for a perfect shot, but just to make sure the temperature in the studio was comfortable enough when Harriet arrived.
This wasn’t the Shane I knew.
This wasn’t the top director of Chicago.
At least, not the one he used to be.
Shane once had two unwavering principles when it came to filming.
First, every shot had to be perfected to the extreme.
Second, the actors‘ emotions had to be genuine and raw.
I remember last winter, the bitter cold biting through my skin. The mud pits on set were frozen over with sh
of ice.
I stood there in a thin dress, shivering as I watched the crew use electric fans to melt the ice–so that I could fall into the mud over and over again.
I lost count of how many times I collapsed into that pit.
My dress would dry, only to be drenched again. The ice would melt, only to refreeze.
All for those few frames that Shane wanted.
But now, that once cold and relentless director stood before Harriet, his expression soft, his movements careful. He held her delicate hands, rubbing them gently between his palms, breathing warmth onto them.
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“Harriet, are you still cold?”
“Silly, it’s already the end of March. How could I be cold?”
“That’s good,” Shane smiled. “This scene might be a little rough, but don’t worry. The floor is padded.”
The photographer hesitated, then finally spoke up.
“Director Dean, I’ve adjusted several angles, but the safety mat is still showing in the shot. Maybe we should-
He stopped, then cautiously continued, “Otherwise, let the female lead take the fall. It’s not that high, really. Joann. did it 45 times at a height way beyond this, and she was fine.”
Harriet let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “But let’s be professional about it. I’m an actress, and she was a stand–in. We each have our roles, don’t we? As for the mat…” She turned to Shane, her voice sweet. “For a better shot, I don’t mind removing it.”
Her words were brave, but her eyes held a pitiful look as she gazed at Shane.
“No need to remove it! Are all the editors in our crew being paid for nothing?”
Shane snapped, his voice sharp and final.
The set fell silent.
And at that moment, I understood.
All the rules, all the standards–those had only ever applied to me.
And every principle he once held could now be discarded by her.
I shouldn’t have been surprised.
The silence was finally broken by Ruth’s sudden wail.
Her sobs choked her words, making them barely coherent.
4
A body had been found by the river during filming. The clothes matched the ones I wore this morning. The moment those words left her lips, Shane abandoned everything and bolted out of the studio.
I told myself it didn’t matter what he did anymore.
Yet, my soul followed him relentlessly.
Was this what they meant when they said “even in death, the heart still longs?”
Ridiculous.
But when I saw him speeding down the road, only to come to a sudden halt by the river, I couldn’t deny the strange mix of emotions swirling inside me.
Shane stood there, pacing back and forth near the spot where I had disappeared beneath the water. Occasionally, he would stop, gaze out into the distance, as if expecting something-
