He had liked her for months.
They met online — two strangers drawn together by subtle chats, mutual interests, and genuine laughter. For three months, they talked every day. Shared dreams. Opened up about their lives. But there was one thing he held back: his passion for content creation.
He wasn’t trying to deceive her. He just wasn’t sure how she’d take it. In a world where many people looked down on young creatives who hadn’t “blown,” he wanted to build a foundation with her first — without the lights, cameras, or assumptions. He created short skits, often shooting from his humble one-room apartment.
One day, he finally told her:
“I want you to come over. See what I do for a living.”
She agreed.
It was supposed to be a light, meaningful visit — a step forward in their growing relationship. But fate had other plans.
Unknown to her, he had scheduled a film shoot the same day she was coming. Nothing too elaborate — just a skit with a female colleague who was playing the role of an angry girlfriend confronting her boyfriend for abandoning their child. Emotional, intense, and a little too real.
She arrived at his place earlier than expected.
As she approached the door, voices leaked out through the slightly open window.
“You abandoned your own child?! After everything we’ve been through?!”
“You don’t even call to ask how your son is doing. You’re a disgrace!”
The girl froze outside. Her heart raced. She didn’t knock. She didn’t step in. She just stood there… listening.
In her mind, it all clicked. He had a baby mama. He had a child. And he never said a word about it. All this while, he was pretending to be single and serious.
She left. Quietly. Hurt. Embarrassed. And angry.
Days later, he decided to pay her a visit. He had no clue what was going on, only that she had gone cold on him. When he arrived, she acted strangely. No hugs. No smile. Just a cold, stern face.
She walked into the kitchen.
“Would you like water?” she asked.
He nodded. “Sure. Thank—”
Splash!
Hot water hit his chest, arm, and neck before he could even finish his sentence.
He screamed in pain.
She dropped the kettle, eyes filled with betrayal. “You’re a liar! You have a baby mama, and you didn’t think I deserved the truth?”
He was too shocked to speak.
Later that night, bandaged and resting in a hospital bed, he sent her a message.
Just one link.
It was the skit.
The one she overheard. The one she misinterpreted. She clicked it. Watched it. Froze. Her legs shook. Her heart crumbled.
She realized the entire confrontation she had heard was just a scene. A film. A script. Fiction.
And the man she had just scarred for life… was innocent.
She called. No answer. Texted. No reply. Days passed.
Eventually, she visited him in the hospital, shaking with regret, holding a flask of real water — cold this time — and a handwritten apology.
He looked at her.
“You almost boiled me alive,” he said, wincing with a half-smile.
“I thought you were hiding a family,” she whispered, eyes red.
“And you thought the best solution was to pour me like Indomie water?”
They both laughed — painfully, but honestly.
“I should’ve knocked… asked… anything but that,” she muttered. “If you’ll ever forgive me… I want to learn from you. Maybe even act in one of your skits.”
He paused.
Then handed her a script.
Moral of the story?
Not everything you hear is the truth. And sometimes, what you assume could burn more than just skin — it could burn a future.