One At A Time

*Scarlett Johansson*

#22: New Year's Comeback

*Y/N’s POV*

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Three years.

Three long years had passed since Scarlett Johansson and I broke up, but I still remembered that night like it was yesterday. It was New Year’s Eve, and we’d had one of our biggest fights yet. Words were thrown—sharp, jagged things we couldn’t take back. I told myself I’d moved on, buried myself in work, but no amount of distractions could erase her from my mind.

Hollywood made it nearly impossible to forget someone, especially when they were as big a star as Scarlett. Her name was everywhere. If it wasn’t a movie premiere, it was a charity gala, or some magazine cover calling her the world’s most beautiful woman. It was hard enough moving on without constantly being reminded of her every success, every smile, every new project.

So when I got the call from my agent about a new movie, my heart skipped a beat.

“This role could be a game changer for you,” he said, his excitement palpable over the phone. “And guess what? Scarlett Johansson is starring opposite you.”

I nearly dropped my phone. I hadn’t seen her, hadn’t spoken to her, since the day we broke up. The idea of working with her again felt like walking into a lion’s den, but the script… the script was too good to pass up. And maybe—just maybe—it was time to face her. To finally put the past behind me.

Or so I thought.

...

The first day on set felt like my heart was in my throat. As I walked onto the set, my eyes found her immediately. She was sitting in her chair, chatting with the director like everything was fine, like no time had passed since we last saw each other.

But for me, it felt like time had frozen the second I saw her.

Scarlett looked exactly the same—maybe even more stunning, if that was possible. Her blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, her familiar soft smile playing on her lips as she spoke. And then, as if sensing me, she looked up, her eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, the entire world fell away. It was just us, standing in the echo of all the things we never said.

“Y/N,” she said, her voice calm, composed. “It’s good to see you.”

I swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “You too, Scarlett.”

But it wasn’t good. It wasn’t easy. The tension between us was thick, and every time we had to share the screen, it felt like reopening a wound that had barely started to heal. She was professional, of course—polite, distant, like we were nothing more than co-stars. But I couldn’t stop the flood of memories that came with every look, every line we exchanged.

The world used to marvel at our on-screen chemistry. Now it felt forced, broken. Even the director noticed. After one particularly flat scene, he pulled us aside, a frown creasing his face.

“You two used to have magic together. What’s going on?”

I had no idea how to explain it. How could I say that the person I was once so in love with was now a stranger to me? That being near her again was like walking through a graveyard of what we used to be?