Stranded with My Ex: 7 Days to Fall Again

Aria's POV

I push through the heavy wooden doors of the Malibu mansion, sunglasses still on. Late afternoon sun pours through the floor-to-ceiling windows. A production assistant rushes over with that bright, calculated smile.

"Ms. Sinclair, welcome! Phone and smart devices, please."

The second I hand over my phone, it feels unreal. Like cutting the cord to the outside world. Just a week. No social media, no work emails. How hard could it be?

I slide off my sunglasses and scan the living room. Eight people scattered across the plush sofas. And then I see him.

Devon Hayes sits by the fireplace in a black T-shirt and jeans, laughing at something a blonde girl said. Those blue eyes catch the firelight, making them almost electric.

His smile freezes. The whiskey glass stops mid-air. Our eyes meet, and he looks away fast. Like I'm nobody.

My fingers tighten around my bag strap. So the producers got both of us here. Fantastic.

I force on my professional smile, the one I've perfected for red carpets. "Hi, I'm Aria."

On Twitter, someone types: "Wait is that Aria Sinclair AND Devon Hayes?? 👀"

Another comment: "Oh this season is gonna be MESSY."

The producer claps her hands together. "Wonderful! Now that everyone's here, let's do introductions! Circle up, everyone."

We settle into the curved seating. The blonde introduces herself as Zoe, a pop singer trying reality TV. A tall guy with an athlete's build mentions needing a break from professional sports.

Then my turn.

"Hi, I'm Aria Sinclair. I do indie films... and apparently survival shows now."

A few people laugh. My eyes flick to Devon. He stares at the flames, jaw tight.

"Don't worry, I'm sure they'll give you a stunt double for the hard parts."

His voice sounds light, casual. But I hear that edge underneath.

The room goes quiet. Zoe's smile turns awkward.

I turn to face him directly. "Unlike some people, I do my own stunts. Oh wait, you wouldn't know about that."

Devon thinks: She still knows exactly where to hit.

The other guests exchange glances. The athlete leans toward someone and whispers: "Dude, did I miss something?"

The producer's smile widens. She's eating this up.

When Devon's turn comes, he leans back with casual confidence. "Devon Hayes. Action films, mostly. Here because my agent thought I needed to reconnect with reality. Whatever that means."

He shrugs, playing it off. But I catch the way he looks at me when he says "reconnect with reality."

Online, the comments explode:

"The tension... you could cut it with a knife"

"This is giving exes energy"

"5 bucks says they hook up by day 3"

The producer announces dinner assignments. "Draw lots for your kitchen teams!"

I reach into the basket and pull out a folded paper. Main course, pasta.

"Looks like I got pasta too."

Devon's voice comes from right behind me.

My heart does this stupid jump. You've got to be kidding me.

In the open kitchen, I head straight to the stove. "I'll handle the sauce."

Devon leans against the counter, arms crossed. "You sure? Last time you cooked, the smoke alarm went off."

My hands freeze. He remembers. That morning in his apartment, five years ago, when I tried making breakfast and nearly burned the place down.

I keep my voice steady. "That was ONE time. And YOU burned the garlic bread."

His eyebrow arches. "Fair point."

He starts chopping onions, eyes watering. Without thinking, I pass him a paper towel. Our fingers brush.

Devon pauses, looks at the towel, then at me. "Thanks."

Muscle memory. That's all this is.

I reach up for the olive oil on the top shelf, stretching on my toes. Before I can say anything, Devon's arm extends over my shoulder and grabs the bottle. He's so close I catch his cologne, that same scent I used to breathe in.

I go rigid. "I could've reached it."

"Sure you could." His voice sounds almost amused.

I taste the sauce and frown at the flavor. We both say it at the exact same time: "Needs basil."

The air stops. We stare at each other for two full seconds before I look away fast. Devon clears his throat.

From across the kitchen, Zoe watches us with wide eyes. She nudges the athlete. "Dude, are they... were they...?"

He nods slowly. "Definitely some history there."

When we carry out the finished pasta, everyone stares.

"Damn, that looks restaurant-quality!" The athlete practically drools.

Devon gives me a sideways look. "Well, Aria's full of surprises."

I roll my eyes, but my mouth fights a smile.

The comments go wild:

"THEY'RE SO IN SYNC WTF"

"The way he handed her the towel WITHOUT LOOKING"

"This is giving divorced couple energy"

"#AvaDev already trending lmaooo"

Later, we gather around the fire pit under the stars. Wine glasses reflect the orange flames. Zoe suggests truth or dare, and someone grabs an empty bottle.

The first spin lands on the athlete. Zoe grins. "Truth. Who here would you most want to kiss?"

He doesn't hesitate, looking straight at me. "Aria or that pasta. Both looked good tonight."

I laugh. "I'm flattered, but the pasta might be easier."

But I notice Devon's hand tightening around his glass, knuckles white.

He thinks: Over my dead body.

The bottle spins again. This time it points at Devon.

Someone asks: "Truth. What's your biggest regret?"

Devon goes quiet. The fire casts shadows across his face. His blue eyes stare into the flames like they hold answers.

"Letting someone walk away without a fight."

My wine glass nearly slips from my fingers. My breathing catches.

Is he talking about me? No... it could be anyone.

Then the bottle lands on me. Same question.

Everyone watches. Devon's eyes bore into me, intense and searching.

I take a breath, deciding to be honest.

"Choosing my career over someone I loved."

The silence feels heavy. I feel Devon's gaze like heat on my skin.

Then I add, because I can't help myself: "But I'd probably make the same choice again."

Devon's face goes pale. He drains his glass in one gulp and stands up abruptly. "I need some air."

He walks into the darkness, disappearing from the firelight.

Five years. And she'd still choose the same fucking thing. That's what Devon thinks as he leaves.

I watch him go, my chest aching. Why did I say that last part? Why?

Zoe looks at me with sympathy. The athlete mutters: "That was intense."

Twitter melts down:

"NOT HER SAYING SHE'D DO IT AGAIN 😭"

"Devon's face when she said that... PAIN"

"This is too real for a reality show"

Later, I stand on the balcony of the room I share with Zoe. Stars scatter across the black sky like diamonds.

Zoe leans on the railing next to me. "Girl, what's the deal with you and Devon? The vibes are INTENSE."

"Ancient history. We worked together once, didn't end well."

"Worked together?" She raises an eyebrow. "Aria, you two cook like an old married couple. And that regret thing? Come on."

The night wind blows cold. I hug myself.

"It was five years ago. We were together. Then I got an offer I couldn't refuse, and he wanted me to stay. So I left."

"Do you regret it?"

"Every single day." My voice barely whispers. "But I don't regret the career I built. Does that make me a horrible person?"

I regret hurting him. But I don't regret choosing myself. Is that selfish?

Meanwhile, Devon stands on his own balcony, lighting a cigarette with shaking hands. He looks at the same stars.

She'd make the same choice. After five years, after everything... she'd still choose her career over us.

He laughs bitterly to himself. "What did you expect, Hayes? That she'd come back and say it was all a mistake?"

He remembers that day five years ago. So your career is more important than us? he asked her. Don't make me choose! she cried. I guess I have my answer. Go. He walked away, heart shattering.

Then the night after, drunk and destroyed, getting into his car. The tree coming out of nowhere. Waking up in the hospital, spine screaming, two months of rehab ahead.

If she knew... No. She can't know. I don't want her pity.

Above them both, the same stars watch. They're so close, but the distance feels infinite.

In the control room, production assistants stare at monitors showing sleeping contestants. The head producer watches Aria and Devon's separate camera feeds, smiling with satisfaction.

"Phase One was perfect. The chemistry between those two is even better than we hoped."

Another voice crackles through the radio: "Ratings are through the roof. #AvaDev is trending worldwide."

She checks her watch. "It's time. Phase Two initiates at 0400."

"Copy that. Sedatives and transport boats are ready."

Staff members move through the mansion with practiced silence. They wear gloves, carrying specialized equipment. At the dock, boats wait in the darkness, loaded with supplies.

The online viewers who are still watching type frantically:

"WAIT WHAT"

"SEDATIVES?!?!?!"

"Oh this show is about to get WILD"

The producer's voice comes through one final time on the radio:

"Let the real show begin."