NOT YOUR UBER

(The tension in the room is suffocating. The air feels thick, like something is about to snap. Film stands near the windows, a glass of wine swirling lazily in her hand. Milk is by the door, arms crossed, watching like a predator ready to pounce. Love stands in the middle, stuck between the past and present.)

FILM: (cool, calculated) You’re making a mistake.

LOVE: (flat, emotionless) The mistake was letting you stay this long.

(Film chuckles, but there’s a flicker of something dangerous in her eyes.)

FILM: That’s cold, baby. You weren’t this heartless before.

MILK: (snapping) Don’t call her that.

(Film finally turns to Milk, sizing her up with an almost amused expression.)

FILM: And you. The girl who just happened to stumble into her car one night and never left.

MILK: (mocking) The ex who just happened to slither back into her life uninvited.

(Love inhales sharply, but doesn’t intervene. Not yet. She wants to see this play out.)

(Film lets out a slow breath, placing her wine glass down on the coffee table. She steps forward, closing the space between her and Love.)

FILM: Tell me something, Love. If I hadn't shown up, would you still be pretending this is real?

LOVE: (sharper now, warning) Walk away.

(Film grins. It’s sharp. Knowing.)

FILM: Oh, that’s cute. You think I’m here to beg.

(Milk’s fingers twitch at her sides, ready to throw hands if necessary.)

(Film slowly leans in, voice dropping to a whisper, only for Love.)

FILM: You still flinch when someone gets too close. You still overthink before you say anything. And you still—still—crave someone who will take the weight off your shoulders.

(She pulls back slightly, head tilting.)

FILM: Be honest. Isn’t that what I did best?

(Love clenches her jaw. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t even breathe. She won’t give Film the satisfaction.)

MILK: (low, dangerous) You should leave.

(Film’s gaze flicks to Milk, then back to Love. Then, she laughs. It’s soft, condescending.)

FILM: This is funny, really. Because I thought I was playing the game. But maybe… you were just waiting for a better opponent.

(Silence. That one hits. But Love—she stands her ground.)

LOVE: (quiet, but firm) No. I was waiting for someone who wouldn’t treat me like a damn chess piece.

(Film exhales, slow. The smirk is still there, but it’s weaker.)

FILM: So that’s it? You think this girl—this random girl—understands you more than I ever did?

(Love doesn’t hesitate this time.)

LOVE: Yeah. She does.

(Film goes still. Just for a second. And that’s when she realizes she’s lost.)

(She swallows, then exhales, stepping back.)

FILM: Huh.

(She turns, walking towards the door. The tension in the room finally loosens.) But right before she exits, she pauses. One last glance over her shoulder.)

FILM: Hope she’s worth it.

MILK: (without missing a beat) She is.

(Film scoffs, but there’s no fight left in her. She walks out the door. The sound of it clicking shut echoes in the mansion. And just like that, it’s over.)

(HAHA NOT, SHE WILL COME BACK)

LATER THAT NIGHT

(The room is dimly lit. Love is sitting on the bed, silent, hands resting on her lap. Milk leans against the dresser, watching her carefully.)

MILK: So.

(Love exhales, looking up.)

LOVE: So?

MILK: You good?

(Love doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she just reaches out and tugs Milk forward by the hoodie.)

(Suddenly, Milk is on the bed, face-to-face, way too close. Her hands land on either side of Love’s thighs to balance herself.)

MILK: (blinking) What the—

LOVE: (soft, teasing) Stay.

(Milk swallows, heart slamming. Love is looking at her like she’s daring her to move away. But there’s no fear in her gaze anymore.)

MILK: (low, exasperated) You don’t fight fair.

LOVE: (grinning, quiet) Never did.

(Milk hesitates—just for a second. Then, finally, she gives in.)

(She leans in, pressing her forehead against Love’s, exhaling.)

MILK: …You drive me insane.

LOVE: (smirking) You love it.

MILK: (softly) Yeah. I do.

(Beat.)

(Then Love tilts her chin up and kisses her. Slow. Certain. This time, with nothing to prove—just everything to feel.)

(The night outside is quiet. But inside this room, in this moment—it’s everything.)

(The house is too quiet. The kind of silence that feels wrong. Love and Milk are still tangled up on the bed, barely catching their breath from that kiss. The moment is warm, heavy—until…)

BZZZZZZT.

(A phone vibrates against the wooden nightstand. Love flinches.)

MILK: (groaning, forehead still resting against Love’s shoulder) Ignore it.

(Love tries to, she really does. But her gut tells her not to. Slowly, she pulls away, reaching for the phone. Unknown number.)

(Milk notices her hesitation, sitting up slightly.)

MILK: You okay?

LOVE: (quiet) …I don’t know.

(Love answers. Presses the phone to her ear. And then—everything freezes.)

INTERCUT WITH AN UNKNOWN LOCATION – FILM’S VOICE OVER THE PHONE

FILM: (mocking, smooth) You didn’t think I’d leave that easy, did you?

(Love stiffens. Every nerve in her body turns to ice.)

MILK: (noticing, concerned) Love?

(Film laughs on the other end, a slow, knowing sound.)

FILM: You should really be more careful, baby. Some things—some people—don’t disappear just because you want them to.

(Love grips the sheets.)

LOVE: (low, furious) What do you want?

FILM: Want? Oh, sweetheart. This was never about what I want. It’s about what you’ll lose.

(Love’s stomach drops.)

LOVE: (sharper now) Film—

FILM: (cutting her off) I wouldn’t rush outside if I were you. It’s already happening.

(The line clicks dead.)

(Love doesn’t even think—she’s moving. Throwing the blankets off, rushing to the door.)

MILK: (startled, following) Love—what the hell is going on?!

(Love doesn’t answer. She’s already running.)

EXT. LOVE’S MANSION – FRONT YARD – NIGHT

(The second they step outside—chaos.

The sleek, expensive cars parked in the driveway?Scratched. Smashed.

The flowerbeds lining the walkway? Torn up, petals scattered like blood on the pavement.

But worst of all—the giant white canvas banner, stretched across the gate. The words spray-painted in thick, black strokes.)

"MILK, HOW DOES IT FEEL TO WIN SOMETHING THAT WAS NEVER YOURS?"

(Milk stares. Love stops breathing.)

(The security lights flicker. The wind rustles through the trees. Somewhere, someone is watching.)

INT. LOVE’S MANSION – MINUTES LATER

(Back inside, Love paces. Hands shaking, pulse racing. Milk slams the door shut, locking it.)

MILK: (angry, breathless) Okay—WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!

LOVE: (muttering, distracted) She’s lost it. She’s completely lost it.

MILK: (snapping) Love—look at me.

(Love finally does. And Milk is furious. Not scared—pissed.)

MILK: Tell me the truth. Right now. How bad is this?

(Love swallows.)

LOVE: (quiet) …She’s not done.

(A pause. Milk exhales sharply, rubbing her face.)

MILK: Great. Awesome. Perfect. I can’t wait to see what psycho move she pulls next.

LOVE: (low, serious) We need to be careful.

MILK: (muttering) Yeah, no shit.

(Then, softer.)

MILK: You know she’s doing this because she’s losing, right?

(Love knows. Oh, she knows. But that doesn’t make it any less terrifying.)

MILK: (gently, stepping closer) …You’re mine, right?

(Love’s breath hitches.)

MILK: (softer now, but firm) I don’t care what mind games she plays. I don’t care what she says. You’re mine. Right?

(A beat. Then—Love nods.)

LOVE: (whispering) Always.

(Milk exhales. Relief. Frustration. Love. All of it.)

(Then she cups Love’s face, pulling her in—kissing her, deep and certain. And this time, no one can take it away.)

(But outside, the security camera blinks red. Somewhere, Film is watching.

And she’s smiling.)

INT. LOVE’S MANSION – MIDNIGHT – AFTER THE ATTACK

(The entire mansion is locked down. Security doubled. Every light on. But inside, it feels smaller, suffocating. Milk and Love sit on the couch, tension coiling between them like a loaded gun.)

(Milk is holding an ice pack to her temple—she slammed her head on the car door in the earlier chaos. Love, curled up beside her, is still on edge.)

LOVE: (quiet, gripping a throw pillow) This isn’t over.

MILK: (dryly, wincing as she presses the ice pack harder) No shit, Sherlock.

(A pause. The weight of the night is crushing.)

MILK: (glancing at her) You okay?

(Love doesn’t answer immediately. She just stares at the carpet, fingers digging into the fabric.)

LOVE: (softly, without looking up) You’re still here.

(Milk freezes. The words land differently—heavier. She studies Love’s face, the way her lips press together, how her breathing is just a little too controlled.)

MILK: …You thought I’d leave.

(Love lets out a short, humorless laugh.)

LOVE: Everyone else has.

(Milk stares at her. The air between them shifts—this isn’t just about Film. This isn’t just about tonight. This is deeper. And maybe, just maybe, this is the real reason Love is so scared.)

(Slowly, Milk sets the ice pack aside.)

MILK: (serious, unwavering) You’re mine, Love. I don’t run.

(Love finally looks at her, and for the first time that night—Milk sees it. The vulnerability. The fear. The unspoken question of "Do you really mean that?")

Milk answers the only way she knows how.

(She leans in, pressing her forehead against Love’s. Their breaths mingle. Their heartbeats sync.)

MILK: (soft, certain) I’m not leaving.

(Silence. Then—)

(Love closes the distance. The kiss is slow, desperate—like she’s trying to memorize the feeling in case it’s taken from her. Milk responds just as fiercely, pulling Love onto her lap, hands gripping her waist like she’s the only thing grounding her to this moment.)

(But just as Love deepens the kiss—BZZZT. BZZZT. Her phone vibrates between them.)

(They both freeze. Love stiffens. Milk pulls back, gaze dark.)

MILK: (flatly, glaring at the phone) If that’s Film, I’m throwing your phone off the balcony.

(Love swallows hard. Her hands shake as she picks it up. Another unknown number.)

(She answers.)

LOVE: (quiet, almost dreading it) …Hello?

(At first, nothing. Just silence. Then—)

UNKNOWN VOICE: (distorted, playful, almost sing-song)Tick, tock, Love. You can’t hide forever.

(CLICK.)

(Love jerks the phone away from her ear like it burned her. Milk sees her reaction—snatches the phone immediately. But the screen just flashes: CALL ENDED.)

(They both just stare at each other.)

MILK: (dead serious, standing up) Pack a bag.

LOVE: (blinking, still rattled) What?

MILK: (grabbing her keys, jaw clenched) We’re leaving. Now.

EXT. LOVE’S MANSION – MIDNIGHT

(A black car pulls out of the estate, speeding into the night. The security cameras track its movement, the infrared sensors flickering to life.)

(And back at the mansion, a lone figure stands by the iron gates. Watching. Waiting. Smiling.)

(Film steps forward, pressing her hand against the gate, eyes flicking up to the security cameras—knowing full well she’s being watched.)

FILM: (whispering, almost sweetly) Run all you want, darling.

(She tilts her head, watching the car disappear into the city lights.)

FILM: It’ll make catching you even more fun.

(And as she steps back into the shadows, the camera feed cuts to black.)

INT. SAFEHOUSE – EARLY MORNING

(The room is dimly lit, the air thick with tension. Love and Milk sit on the edge of the bed, still in the same clothes from the night before. Neither has slept. The weight of everything presses down on them.)

MILK: (low, firm) This ends today.

(Love looks at her, eyes tired but filled with something sharper—determination.)

LOVE: (softly, but with finality) Let’s finish it.

EXT. FILM’S APARTMENT – MORNING

(A sleek black car pulls up fast. Milk and Love step out, dressed in black, moving with purpose. Love’s fingers tighten around her phone—her last message to Film still unread.)

LOVE: (muttering, adjusting her coat) If she doesn’t open the door—

MILK: (cutting in, darkly) Then we break it down.

(Love stares at her for a second. The Milk from before—sweet, teasing, playful—is gone. This is a Milk who’s ready for war.)

(They march up to the door. Love pounds on it.)

LOVE: Open up, Film. We’re done playing.

(A beat. Then another. Just as Milk steps forward, ready to kick the damn thing down—)

(The door unlocks. Slowly.)

(It creaks open, revealing Film, disheveled but smiling.Too calm.)

FILM: (softly, almost mockingly) Well, well. Look who finally stopped running.

(Love shoves past her, walking inside. Milk follows, slamming the door shut behind them.)

INT. FILM’S APARTMENT – LIVING ROOM

(Film leans against the wall, arms crossed, unbothered. The room is clean, too clean, like she was expecting them.)

LOVE: (cold, stepping closer) I want to hear you say it.

(Film tilts her head, pretending to be confused.)

FILM: (innocently) Say what?

MILK: (snaps, voice cutting like a blade) That it was you. The threats. The attack. All of it.

(Film’s lips curl into a slow smirk.)

FILM: (laughing lightly) And if it was?

(Silence.)

(Love and Milk exchange a glance—silent understanding. Milk reaches into her coat. A flash drive. She tosses it onto the coffee table.)

LOVE: (dead serious) That’s everything. Every trace you left. Every move you made. We have you.

(Film’s smirk falters just a bit. But she quickly recovers, stepping forward, picking up the flash drive, turning it between her fingers.)

FILM: (softly, almost amused) And what now? You hand it over to the police?

(Milk steps forward, standing dangerously close.)

MILK: (low, lethal) If you think we won’t, try us.

(Film meets her gaze, the smile finally slipping. She knows she lost. But she also knows something they don’t—and that’s what makes her dangerous.)

(She leans in, voice barely a whisper.)

FILM: (soft, eerie) You think I’m the only one?

(Love freezes. Milk’s jaw clenches.)

(Film laughs, stepping back. Her eyes gleam, something twisted lurking beneath.)

FILM: (sweetly) You took me down, sure. But… how do you know the game is over?

(The weight of her words sinks in. Love’s fingers twitch. Milk grabs Love’s hand, squeezing it. Grounding her.)

MILK: (murmuring, but firm) She’s bluffing.

FILM: (mocking, shrugging) Maybe. Maybe not.

(BANG. The front door bursts open—police flood in.)

(Film doesn’t fight. She just laughs, raising her hands.)

FILM: (whispering as the cuffs click shut around her wrists) Tick, tock, Love.

(She winks.)

FILM: See you soon.

(The officers drag her out. Silence fills the room.)

(Love and Milk just stand there. Film is gone. The game is over. Or is it?)

(A week has passed since Film’s arrest. The air feels lighter, but the weight of everything still lingers. Love sits on the couch, staring at her phone, scrolling through messages from reporters, old "friends" resurfacing, and people trying to dig into the chaos.)

(She exhales, tossing her phone aside. Silence.)

(A knock on the door. Soft. Familiar.)

(She knows who it is before she even gets up.)

LOVE: (softly) It’s open.

(The door creaks, and Milk steps in. Dressed comfortably, but her eyes hold something serious. She closes the door behind her, walking over slowly.)

MILK: (gently) You okay?

(Love nods, but Milk just raises an eyebrow.)

LOVE: (sighs, dropping back onto the couch) I should be. It’s over.

MILK: (softly, sitting beside her) But it doesn’t feel like it.

(Love looks at her, searching for the right words. But Milk already knows. She always does.)

LOVE: (barely above a whisper) She made me doubt everything. Even now, I feel like she’s still… watching. Like there’s something I missed.

(Milk reaches out, intertwining their fingers. A grounding touch.)

MILK: (firm, steady) No. She’s gone. And whatever tricks she left behind? We’ll face them together.

(Love exhales, gripping Milk’s hand tighter. Silent gratitude.)

(A beat of quiet. Then—)

MILK: (soft chuckle) …I’m never letting you out of my sight again, you know that, right?

(Love huffs a small laugh, shaking her head.)

LOVE: (teasing, nudging her lightly) Possessive much?

MILK: (grinning, tilting her head) …Maybe.

(Love bites her lip, looking down at their hands, at everything they’ve been through. Then, she looks back up, eyes soft but filled with something new—certainty.)

LOVE: (quiet, but strong) Stay.

(Milk blinks. A flicker of surprise before she smiles.Soft. Real.)

MILK: (whispering) Always.

(And just like that, the past finally lets go. The storm has passed. And in its place—warmth.)

BONUS SCENE – "HOME"

INT. LOVE’S BEDROOM – EARLY MORNING

(The golden light of dawn spills through the curtains. Soft. Warm. Safe.)

(Love stirs awake, blinking slowly. For the first time in what feels like forever, she wakes up without tension in her chest. No dread. Just peace.)

(She turns over, and there she is—Milk.)

(Still asleep. Face relaxed, lips slightly parted, her dark hair a mess on the pillow.)

(Love just watches her for a moment.)

(She still remembers how everything felt like a game at first. A challenge. A fight for control. But now? This isn’t a game. It never was.)

(This is real.)

(Milk stirs. Eyes flutter open, hazy with sleep. She sees Love watching her and hums softly.)

MILK: (voice groggy, teasing) …Creepy.

(Love rolls her eyes but smiles.)

LOVE: (softly) Shut up.

(Milk just smirks. But there’s something different in the way she looks at Love now—like she finally knows where she belongs.)

(Silence. Love reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from Milk’s face.)

LOVE: (whispering) You’re really staying, huh?

(Milk exhales, then nods. Without hesitation.)

MILK: (gentle, certain) Yeah. I am.

(Love bites her lip, heart aching in the best way. She leans in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to Milk’s forehead.)

LOVE: (murmurs) …Good.

(Milk pulls her closer, arms wrapping around her. And for the first time, Love lets herself be held—really held.)

(No walls. No games. Just them.)

(And it feels like home.)