Unscripted

The casting studio was buzzing with quiet conversations and the occasional click of a pen against a clipboard. Marta sat at the long table, posture straight, fingers laced together as she watched the final audition of the day. Fina was in the room, too because Marta needed her there to check the chemistry, as well… or maybe she just wanted to be in her presence.

Fina sat to her right, legs crossed, eyes fixed on the actress in front of them with the sharp focus of someone who had already decided.

Marta had, too.

Sofia Brown. Tall, blonde, striking in a way that made people stare without fully understanding why. She had the kind of presence that filled a room without effort, a confidence that didn’t need to be loud. She was undeniably talented, but that wasn’t what had sealed Marta’s decision.

No, it was something else. Something she wasn’t ready to examine yet.

When the audition ended, Marta glanced down at her notes, pen tapping once against the page. ‘We’d like to move forward with you, Sofia.’

The woman smiled, graceful even in the slight exhale of relief. ‘Thank you, director. I’m honored.’

‘There’s just one thing.’ Marta’s voice was even, steady. ‘Your hair...’

Sofia lifted a brow, fingers brushing through her long, honey-gold strands. ‘What about it?’

‘We need you to cut it.’ Marta barely hesitated. ‘Shoulder-length… Maybe shorter.’

Fina turned her head slightly, eyes flicking between them, unreadable. ‘That’s… specific.’

‘It’ll suit the character better…’ Marta said smoothly, trying to keep the professional tone, flipping a page in her notes. ‘We’ll arrange a stylist.’

Sofia hesitated for only a second before nodding. ‘Of course, yeah… Whatever the role requires.’

‘Great, then… We’ll see you tomorrow for your first rehearsals with Fina, and if all goes well, we start filming, too.’ Marta stood, signaling the end of the meeting. As Sofia left the room, Marta kept her gaze fixed on the empty chair in front of her, ignoring the weight of Fina’s stare burning into the side of her face.

‘Shoulder-length…’ Fina said, voice laced with something Marta didn’t want to name. ‘Almost like yours…’

Marta’s fingers curled slightly against her notes. ‘What? It’s just a practical choice.’

Fina hummed, unconvinced. ‘If you say so…’

She stood, stretching, and Marta forced herself not to watch the way her shirt lifted just slightly, showing a little bit of skin. Instead, she busied herself with gathering papers, grounding herself in the small, necessary movements. Fina didn’t push further. She didn’t need to. Because the thought was already there, lingering in the charged space between them.

Marta needed air. Or maybe just distance. She wasn’t sure which, but she found herself texting Luz before she could think twice about it.

Lunch. Now. Somewhere quiet.

An hour later, she slid into a booth across from her best friend, the scent of fresh coffee and warm bread settling around them like a comfort she didn’t know she needed. Luz studied her over the rim of her cup, dark eyes sharp, knowing.

‘So…’ Luz said, setting her drink down with a decisive thud. ‘How long are we going to pretend we’re just here for lunch?’

Marta sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. ‘I hate you.’

‘No, you don’t…’ Luz smirked. ‘You love me because I know when you’re lying to yourself.’

Marta rolled her eyes but said nothing. Luz waited, patient as always. Finally, Marta exhaled and leaned forward, pressing her palms against the cool wood of the table.

‘I don’t know what’s happening…’ she admitted, the words feeling foreign in her mouth.

‘I feel like… like I’m losing control of something, but I don’t even know what it is.’

Luz arched a brow. ‘Something?’

Marta hesitated. ‘Someone…’

A slow, knowing smile spread across Luz’s face. ‘Ah…’ She lifted her cup, taking a sip before adding, ‘Fina.’ Marta didn’t answer, but that silence spoke louder than words.

Luz leaned in, resting her chin on her hand. ‘So what is it about her, exactly?’

Marta’s fingers tensed against her coffee cup. ‘She gets under my skin… she’s annoying, so bold, without inhibitions…’

‘She challenges you?’ Asked Luz.

‘She…’ Marta stopped, pressing her lips together. That wasn’t it. Or maybe that wasn’t all of it.

Luz tilted her head. ‘Or maybe she makes you feel something you weren’t ready to feel.’

Marta’s stomach twisted, frowning as if she suddenly didn’t understand English. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

Luz gave her a look. ‘Yeah, you do…’

Marta let out a slow breath, staring down at the table. ‘I love him…’ she said, voice quiet. ‘Pelayo... He’s good to me. We understand each other.’

Luz was silent, letting her continue.

‘But… I don’t know if I love him the way I should…’ Marta admitted, her fingers tightening around her cup. ‘Or if I even know what real love should feel like…’

Luz’s expression softened. ‘Marta…’

‘I thought I was happy…’ Marta said, almost like she was convincing herself. ‘I am happy. Or I should be. But then…’ She cut herself off, shaking her head. ‘Then someone comes along and makes me question everything, and I don’t know if that means something was already wrong or if I’m just…’

‘Just scared?’ Luz offered.

Marta swallowed hard. ‘Maybe… who knows?’

Luz studied her, then leaned back in her chair, considering her words carefully. ‘You know what I think?’

Marta sighed. ‘I’m sure you’ll tell me.’

Luz smirked but then grew serious again. ‘I think you’ve spent your whole life following the rules. Doing what was expected. Choosing the safe option.’ She tilted her head. ‘Tell me something, honestly. If you hadn’t met him… if there was no pressure, no timeline, no expectations… do you think you still would have chosen him?’

Marta’s breath caught. Luz saw it, nodded slightly, and took another sip of coffee. ‘That’s what I thought.’

Marta felt like the room was closing in on her. ‘That doesn’t mean I don’t love him.’

‘I know, baby.’ Luz said gently. ‘But love and being in love aren’t always the same thing.’

Marta sat back, exhaling sharply. ‘God, I hate you.’

Luz grinned. ‘No, you don’t.’ Then, after a beat… ‘But I think you might hate the answer you already know.’

Marta swallowed, staring down at her hands.

Luz let the silence stretch before finally grinning, bright and teasing. ‘But hey, what do I know? I’m just here for the food.’

Marta let out a quiet, almost breathless laugh. ‘Asshole.’

Luz winked. ‘That’s why you love me.’

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

It was almost midnight and Marta’s eyes flicked over the racks of costumes, still trying to focus on the character she was creating for Sofia. Her mind wandered between the script adjustments and the need to ensure every detail was just right. But something… someone… kept distracting her. The new character. The one who looked too much like her. The one who was now becoming more real than she had anticipated.

Marta was still lost in her thoughts when Fina’s voice sliced through the silence.

“You’re still here?” Fina’s tone was light, teasing, but with that same undercurrent of mischief that Marta was beginning to dread. “Most people would’ve left by now.”

Marta glanced up, startled, and noticed Fina standing in the doorway of the wardrobe department, her eyes gleaming with amusement. There was a sense of familiarity about Fina that made Marta’s chest tighten… a mix of attraction, curiosity, and something Marta wasn’t ready to confront.

“Just finishing up,” Marta said, her voice firmer than she felt, clutching the new coat in her hands. She was trying to focus on her work, but the tension in the room was palpable, every breath she took feeling heavier as Fina slowly approached her.

Fina’s gaze dropped to the coat in Marta’s hands, and she raised an eyebrow. “That’s for the new character, right? The one who’s supposed to look like you?”

Marta stiffened. “Wha-… Yes…” she replied, her tone clipped. “For Sofia… But I need to adjust some things before we move forward.”

Fina stepped closer, her eyes never leaving Marta. “Well, I think the character should look exactly like you…” she said, her voice laced with a teasing tone. She was dangerously close now. “Maybe even in the clothes you’d wear.”

Marta’s heartbeat quickened. “That’s not…”

Before Marta could finish her sentence, Fina reached out, taking the coat from Marta’s hands with smooth, practiced grace. She didn’t ask, didn’t give Marta a chance to react. “Come on,” she said, smiling. “Let’s see if this fits you better.”

Marta’s breath caught as Fina moved toward her, her fingers brushing against Marta’s skin as she held the coat up to Marta’s shoulders. The contact was fleeting, but it felt like an eternity, sending a sense of heat through Marta’s body.

“What are you doing?” Marta’s voice wavered, but she couldn’t make herself step back. Fina was already slipping the coat onto Marta’s shoulders, the fabric soft against her skin, as if she was in control of the situation.

Fina didn’t respond right away. She carefully adjusted the coat, pulling it over Marta’s shoulders and smoothing it down, the back of her fingers brushing against Marta’s neck in the process. Marta’s breath hitched, the warmth of Fina’s touch sending a shiver down her spine. The air between them felt thick, charged with an energy Marta couldn’t escape.

As Fina finished adjusting the coat, she stood behind Marta for a moment, examining her reflection in the mirror. “You know…” she said, her voice a low murmur, “I think this looks better on you than I imagined. You really are the perfect fit for the character.”

Marta’s pulse raced. She could feel Fina’s perfume, a mix of musk and something richer, sweeter surrounding her, intoxicating her senses. Her body was reacting against her will, her chest tightening with panic and something else she refused to name. Fina’s closeness was overwhelming, and Marta couldn’t stop herself from noticing the way the coat fit, how it clung to her figure, how it made her look... like the character…

Fina stepped closer again, her breath warm against Marta’s ear. “I think this is how you were always meant to look… strong, confident, in charge. Just like the character...”

Marta’s stomach tightened. “Fina, stop…” she said, her voice shaky, her hands clenching at her sides. “This isn’t funny anymore.”

Fina’s fingers brushed against the side of Marta’s neck as she gently adjusted the collar of the coat. It was a subtle touch, but it was enough to make Marta’s breath catch. She tried to pull away, but Fina was already too close, her body just inches from Marta’s.

“Marta…” Fina’s voice was low, almost a whisper. “What are you so afraid of?”

The question hung in the air, and Marta couldn’t answer it. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her body responding in ways that terrified her. The last thing she wanted was to lose control, but it was slipping away with each breath Fina took.

“Fina, I mean it…” Marta said, her voice trembling now. “Be careful! This is the third warning.”

Fina didn’t move. She didn’t take a step back. Instead, she tilted her head, eyes locked on Marta’s with a mix of curiosity and something else… something far more dangerous.

“The third, huh? And what happens if I don’t listen?”

Marta’s chest tightened further. “Don’t test me!” she whispered, her heart racing faster than she could keep up with. She was trapped. She wanted to move, to push Fina away, but something deep inside her told her to stay still, to face whatever this was. Whatever Fina was doing to her.

For a moment, there was only silence between them. Fina seemed to study Marta for a long beat, before finally taking a step back, her hands dropping to her sides. She smiled that same teasing smile, a little less playful, a little more knowing.

“Alright…” Fina said, her voice light again, as if nothing had happened. “I’ll behave.”

But Marta wasn’t sure if she was relieved or more unsettled by that promise.

Marta arrived home later than usual, the weight of the day pressing on her shoulders. The lights in the apartment were dim, and the quietness of the space made her feel even more alone. She tossed her keys onto the entryway table and kicked off her shoes, her mind racing with thoughts she couldn’t escape.

She wasn’t ready to face the emptiness of the apartment, but the phone in her hand buzzed, breaking through her thoughts. Pelayo…

She stared at the screen for a moment before answering. "Hello?"

"Marta? You alright?" Pelayo’s voice was familiar, but tonight it grated on her nerves. He was calling from his business trip, and she could hear the tiredness in his tone. "You’re late. Everything okay?"

"Fine…" Marta snapped, though she wasn’t sure if she was convincing herself or him. She walked into the living room, feeling the tension in her chest build. "Everything’s fine."

"Then why do you sound so upset?" Pelayo’s voice softened, concern seeping through.

Marta didn’t want to explain. She didn’t want to be angry at him, but she was. "You wouldn’t understand…" she muttered, pacing now, her heart racing.

"Try me!" he said, his tone shifting from concern to frustration. "You’re not making sense, Marta. What’s going on? Is this about the film again? About your work?"

Her breath hitched. She could hear his confusion, his attempts to be understanding, but it only made her feel more suffocated, more trapped.

"Of course it’s about work!" she snapped, her voice rising. "It’s always about work with you, isn’t it? But it’s more than that. It’s everything… everything I’m doing, everything I’m feeling. I’m so fucking tired of pretending!"

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Pelayo was silent for a beat before speaking, his voice quiet, almost uncertain. "What do you mean? What’s going on with you, Marta? I don’t understand. We’ve been good, haven’t we?"

Marta’s hand clenched around the phone as a surge of frustration swept through her. The anger she had been holding back, all her confusion, all the frustration with Fin… it all came pouring out in a rush. "You think everything’s fine? You think everything’s okay between us? Well, it’s not. I don’t even know who I am anymore, Pelayo. I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel. And I’m getting so damn tired of pretending like everything’s perfect. It’s not… It never was!"

Her voice cracked as the emotions built, and she couldn’t stop them from spilling out. "I’m supposed to be happy, right? Happy with you, happy with my life. But I’m not. I’m… I’m just suffocating here. I can’t breathe anymore."

"Wait… what?" Pelayo’s voice was softer now, a hint of confusion creeping in. "Marta, what are you saying? This doesn’t make sense. You’re not making any sense at all."

But Marta was too far gone. She was too angry, too hurt, too consumed by everything she hadn’t said, everything she hadn’t been able to express. "You don’t understand. You don’t see it. And I’m so fucking tired of explaining myself! You don’t get me anymore, Pelayo. You never did!"

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. Pelayo was silent for a long moment, and Marta’s heart pounded in her chest. She knew what he was thinking, the confusion, the hurt. But she didn’t care. She couldn’t care in that moment…

"Fine, Marta. Fine…" he finally said, his voice tight, distant. "If that’s how you feel, then what do you want me to say? I can’t fix this over the phone."

Marta’s chest tightened, and for a split second, she almost wanted to take it back. She wanted to apologize, to tell him she didn’t mean it. But she couldn’t. Not when everything felt so wrong. Not when the attraction to Fina, the confusion, the tension… it was all too much to ignore.

"Good night, Pelayo…" she said, the words barely above a whisper. And before he could respond, she hung up.

The silence that followed was deafening. Marta stood there, her phone still clutched tightly in her hand, her heart racing. She felt exposed, vulnerable, raw. Her legs gave way, and she sank to the couch, her hands shaking. The tears came then, uncontrollable, a torrent of emotion she had been holding back for far too long.

She hated how she felt. She hated that she couldn’t explain this mess inside of her. Fina, Pelayo, her marriage… everything was a tangled web she couldn’t untangle. She cried for everything that was slipping through her fingers, for the life she couldn’t seem to live up to, for the things she wanted but was too afraid to reach for.

Her chest heaved with sobs, each breath a painful reminder that she was trapped in a life that wasn’t hers. And no matter how hard she tried to suppress it, she couldn’t escape the overwhelming pull of something she wasn’t ready to face.

Not yet… Not now…

But as the tears fell, Marta couldn’t help but wonder if she was already too far gone… her penthouse’s walls just became so small compared to the walls she created inside her soul throughout her entire life.