But after becoming a big star, she changed, becoming cold and distant.
The irritation in her eyes said it all that our family was no longer worthy of her.
I remember that year at our boxing team’s gathering. I was ready to show off my superstar girlfriend, eager to prove to everyone that leaving the national team to be her bodyguard was the best decision I ever made.
But reality hit hard.
At the party, Aurora walked in just like always, wrapped up in a mask, sunglasses, and a baseball cap, hiding herself away.
My teammates greeted her, but she barely acknowledged them. No autographs, no pictures, nothing.
Of course, she was a big star now, and she acted like it.
She smiled for her fans but wouldn’t even glance at my teammates.
She didn’t seem to remember the sacrifices they made for her. When she was still struggling, they’d stepped in as stunt doubles for a movie. One even got his ribs broken to help her land a role.
My mom saw me floundering and gently asked Aurora to be nicer to my teammates.
But that only made her explode. She slammed her sunglasses on the ground and crushed them, shouting at my mom as if she were some kind of nobody who had to smile at everyone.