Temptation on The Edge.

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For two damn days, I hadn't gotten a proper moment's rest

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For two damn days, I hadn't gotten a proper moment's rest. Just a handful of short breaks after seven grueling hours of shooting, and even those were barely enough to scarf down a bite.

The makeup crew swooped in every time, eating up half the break to prep me for the next scene, leaving my stomach growling and my energy drained.

I was starving, my eyes heavy from lack of sleep, barely able to stay open.

Glancing around, I saw the other actors moving through the set like they were immune to the exhaustion, chatting and laughing as if we hadn't been grinding for days.

How the hell were they so unfazed?

I tried to force my eyes to stay open, but it was a losing battle. With a heavy sigh, I slouched deeper into my chair, my body begging for a break.

Of course, that's when Hunter decided to bark for our attention, his voice cutting through my haze.

Four hours later, Roselyn finally called it a wrap, and I could've wept with relief.

Rolling my eyes, too tired to care, I let my body slide off the chair and collapse onto the cold tiles, the coolness against my skin a small mercy after the endless day.

Raul's Point Of View

The moment she collapsed onto the cold tile floor, I knew.

She was past her limit.

Two fucking days of relentless shooting. There was barely any rest. No proper meals. And yet, she hadn't complained once—not out loud. But I saw it. In the way her shoulders slouched.

In the subtle tremble of her fingers. In her heavy-lidded eyes that struggled to stay open.

Four hours later, Roselyn finally called it a wrap, and I swear I saw relief flood her face. She rolled her eyes, too tired to care, and slumped to the cold tiles, her body giving out.

My chest tightened at the sight.

I could tell she was beyond exhausted the moment she hit the floor. So many times, she'd called my name, her eyes locking with mine, pleading for a break she never voiced.

I knew what she wanted, but until she learned to demand it, I wouldn't give in. She needed to find that strength.

But now—fuck. She looked like she was going to pass out.

I moved toward her, crouching down to her level.

"Angel," I called softly, my palm brushing her soft, warm skin. Her body was stiff, tense under my touch.

She turned her head slowly, struggling to stand.

"M-Mr. D'Amano, I-I'm sorry, I...."

"What are you apologizing for, Caramella?" I raised a brow, watching her blink rapidly, her stance wobbly, unsteady.

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