THE PRICE OF FAME

Ariana’s POV

My heart jolted when my phone buzzed against my hip. The sound shot through the studio’s microphone, making a quiet pause for the live broadcast. Every head in the booth turned toward me. The crew stared, their eyes heavy with silent questions.

The show had been smooth, even energizing until that call.

“So, in essence, women are the prize to be won,” I was saying confidently into the mic. “And they will always remain the prize in a relationship.”

The words rolled off my tongue like I had rehearsed them a hundred times. In truth, I didn’t need to rehearse. This was my truth, the brand I’d built my career on. I believed it, lived it, and taught it to the millions who tuned in every week.

Something was intoxicating about knowing strangers were hanging on every syllable. That my voice was shaping the debates in kitchens, offices, and bedrooms.

“Wow… that’s quite an audacious statement,” Janice, the main host, said, half-smiling but still blinking in disbelief.

“Audacious, yes, but still true,” I countered without missing a beat. “If your man isn’t head-over-heels obsessed with you, then you’re already halfway to misery.”

Janice tilted her head, still processing curious to hear how the listeners react.”

“Oh, they’ll react,” I said with a smirk. I’ve been called manipulative before. Narcissist, even. But facts don’t stop being facts because someone doesn’t like them.”

Inside, I was savoring the moment. I could practically feel the hashtags forming online, and the clips are getting queued on social media. Controversy was oxygen for my career, and I could sense it when I had struck gold.

“But the guy,” Maye, our outspoken co-host, cut in, “isn’t he supposed to have his own life? "His own goals that aren’t all about her?” She was looking at me like I’d just told her the water wasn’t wet.

“He can’t have a life without you in it,” I replied coolly. “If he does, the relationship is already at risk.”

“That’s not love, that’s obsession,” Janice said flatly.

“That’s exactly the kind of love you want if you plan to keep him,” I shot back, flashing my most aggravating smile. “You should be on his mind every minute of every day.”

“Even when he’s working? Or building a business? "Or, I don’t know, breathing?” Maye raised one eyebrow like she’d already won the point.

“You should still be his motivation for all those things,” I said. When he’s working, working out, eating right, everything he does should be touched by you in some way. You should always have ”

That’s when my phone buzzed.

I already knew answering it would push Janice and Maye over the edge. Bringing my phone into the booth during a live show was arrogant enough. Answering it? That would be gasoline on the fire.

But the thing about arrogance? I wore it like perfume.

I pulled it out anyway. And when I saw the name on the screen, Daniel, A smile warmed my face.

“See,” I said into the mic, lifting my phone for Janice and Maye to see. “Your man has to miss you so much that he calls you in the middle of your workday.”

Janice leaned in and whispered, “Don’t answer that call.”

I ignored her. This was perfect. Daniel’s timing was about to hand me a live, On-air victory.

“Hello, baby,” I said brightly, putting the phone to my ear. “Don’t tell me you’re missing me so much you had to call during a show”

“Ariana… I need to tell you something. Thingy, his voice wasn’t warm. It wasn’t playful. It was tight. Strained.

The tone made my smile falter. “Okay,” I said slowly, glancing at the crew. Some of them were already exchanging glances, sensing something. “Go on.”

“I can’t keep this in anymore,” he said.

My chest tightened. “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t do this anymore,” Daniel said.

The words hit like ice water down my spine. “Do what?”

“This. Us. I’m done, Ariana.”

For a moment, I forgot we were live. I forgot Janice. I forgot the millions are listening. All I could hear was my pulse in my ears.

“What are you saying?” My voice cracked.

“You call yourself a relationship expert, but you couldn’t even read the signs?” His tone sharpened. Each word cuts deeper. “I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. My fingers went numb. My phone almost slipped from my hand.

“Daniel, wait”

He hung up

Upset like that, I was sitting silent. The kind of silence you can feel pressing on your skin. The crew’s eye Their eyes were wide, their mouths slightly open. Maye’s eyebrows were somewhere near the voice hairline.

I blinked, trying to process. Had that really just happened?

A hot sting filled my eyes. My throat closed.

Felt tooled for words. “We… uh… We’ll take a quick break, listeners.” Her voice was shaky as she cut to a commercial.

I ripped off my headset and stormed out before anyone could say a word.

The hallway felt too bright, too loud. The murmur of voices from the rest of the press followed me. I didn’t stop until I was in the bathroom with the door locked.

The tears came fast and ugly. Not just because Daniel had dumped me, but because he’d done it in front of the entire country.

And because I’d let him.

Why had I answered the call? Why had I thought I was untouchable?

I pulled my phone from my pocket with trembling hands and dialed him again. Straight to voicemail. Again. And again.

“Daniel, pick up… please,” I whispered, my voice cracking.

Nothing.

I sent him a text. Then another. Then another.

Nothing.

It wasn’t long before my phone started blowing up again. But it was again. It was my sponsor. My agent. My publicist. And none of them were calling to comfort me.

One by one, the deals I’d worked for years to build began slipping away. Endorsements pulled. Speaking engagements were canceled. TV appearances “postponed indefinitely.”

Then speaking popped up in cancellations.

I opened it instantly.

The words blurred as soon as I read them. My knees buckled, and I slid to the cold tile floor.

Whatever was left of my confidence cracked, splintered, and fell away.

A man who had once told me I was his dream now spoke to me like I was a mistake. A burden.

Somewhere outside that bathroom, people were already tweeting about my downfall. Somewhere, clips of the moment were being cut, captioned, and shared. Somewhere, the version of Ariana Cruz I had worked so hard to create was dying in real time.

And all I could do was sit there, trying to remember how to breathe.