Izzy barely saw Niall for the next few days.

Not because of Simon—there were no official rules keeping them apart—but because Niall was avoiding her.

He wasn't rude, wasn't cold, but he also wasn't... Niall.

During rehearsals, he was polite but distant. If they passed each other in the hallways, he gave her a quick nod or a small "hey, Iz," before moving on. He still called her Iz—but now, it felt like an obligation instead of something just for them.

And it killed her.

"Are you going to talk to him, or are you just going to keep moping?" Maggie asked one afternoon, flopping onto the couch in Izzy's hotel room.

"I'm not moping," Izzy muttered, staring at her phone. She had almost texted Niall at least five times today but kept chickening out.

Maggie gave her a look. "Oh, come on. He's obviously pissed about this whole Ethan thing."

Izzy sighed. "He knows it's fake."

"Doesn't mean he likes it," Maggie pointed out.

Izzy groaned, flopping back against the pillows. "This is a mess."

Maggie smirked. "Then fix it."

The tension between them only got worse after the next round of staged photos with Ethan.

They were everywhere—laughing in a café, walking through London, a candid shot of Ethan brushing hair out of Izzy's face. (That one made her physically cringe when she saw it.)

And Niall?

He was out with the boys, drinking more than usual, laughing a little too hard at jokes, flashing charming grins for the cameras. Classic distraction tactics.

So when Louis suggested a group night in, Izzy jumped at the chance.

The entire band, plus Maggie and a few crew members, squeezed into Liam's hotel suite. Snacks were scattered across the table, and half-empty beer bottles littered the floor.

Louis clapped his hands. "Alright, lads. Truth or dare."

Groans filled the room, but everyone still shifted into a circle.

The game started light—Zayn had to send an embarrassing tweet, Harry admitted to a secret tattoo, Liam was dared to prank-call Simon.

Then, Louis turned to Izzy.

"Truth or dare?"

She hesitated. "Truth."

Louis grinned. "Do you actually like Ethan Carter?"

The room went dead silent.

Izzy's stomach dropped. She flicked a quick glance at Niall—he was staring at the bottle in his hands, jaw tight.

She swallowed. "No."

Maggie snorted. "That was fast."

Izzy shrugged, forcing a casual tone. "It's PR. You all knew that."

Louis leaned back, looking smug. "Just checking."

The game continued, but the air felt heavier.

Until, finally, it was Izzy's turn to ask.

She turned to Niall, heartbeat pounding. "Truth or dare?"

He glanced at her, and for the first time in days, really looked at her.

"...Truth."

Izzy took a slow breath. "Do you actually not care about the Ethan thing?"

Silence.

Niall's grip tightened around his bottle.

Then, he exhaled and met her eyes. "I care, Iz."

Her stomach flipped.

And just like that, the entire room faded away.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Izzy's heart pounded as she held Niall's gaze. She had pushed for the truth—but now that she had it, she wasn't sure what to do with it.

Louis, of course, decided to make it worse.

"Oooooh, now that's interesting."

Liam elbowed him. "Mate, not the time."

But Izzy barely heard them.

She swallowed. "You care?"

Niall didn't break eye contact. "Yeah, Iz. I do."

Her breath hitched.

Someone cleared their throat—probably Harry—but Izzy didn't look away.

Because, in that moment, nothing else mattered.

Not Simon. Not the PR stunt. Not the cameras waiting outside.

Just them.

Izzy couldn't sleep.

Her mind kept replaying the moment over and over.

Niall's voice. His eyes. The way he said it.

I care, Iz.

She knew she shouldn't read too much into it. Knew she shouldn't let herself hope.

But she couldn't stop thinking about it.

So, at 2 a.m., she knocked on his hotel door.

Niall opened it almost immediately, like he had been expecting her.

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

Then, softly, he said, "Couldn't sleep?"

She shook her head. "You?"

He sighed. "Nah."

A beat of silence.

Then Niall stepped aside, and Izzy walked in.

The room was dimly lit, the only glow coming from the city lights outside. Niall sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing a hand over his face.

Izzy hesitated before sitting beside him. Close, but not touching.

After a long pause, she whispered, "What did you mean earlier?"

Niall exhaled. "Iz..."

"Just tell me," she pleaded. "I need to know."

He was quiet for a long time.

Then, finally, he looked at her.

"I don't like seeing you with him," he admitted. "Even if it's fake."

Her heart pounded. "Why?"

He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "Because it shouldn't be him."

Izzy's breath caught.

Slowly, hesitantly, she reached for his hand.

He didn't pull away.

"Niall..." she whispered.

He turned toward her, blue eyes searching hers.

And for the first time, neither of them looked away.

Izzy's fingers curled around Niall's, her pulse racing.

This was it.

The moment where everything could change.

She could feel the warmth of his palm, the slight tremble in his grip. He wanted this—just as much as she did.

But...

"Iz," Niall whispered, voice rough, conflicted.

She swallowed. "Yeah?"

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "We can't."

Her chest tightened. "Why not?"

Niall let out a humorless chuckle, rubbing his free hand over his face. "You know why."

She did.

Simon. The band. The tour. The media. The PR stunt.

Everything that kept them in check, controlled their every move.

But right now, sitting in this dimly lit hotel room with his hand in hers, none of that mattered.

"I don't care," she whispered.

Niall turned to her, his expression torn. "You should."

Her grip tightened. "And what if I don't?"

His jaw clenched. "Then you're braver than I am."

Izzy's heart ached. "You're not scared of Simon," she said quietly. "You're scared of us."

Silence.

Then—so softly she almost didn't hear it—he whispered, "Maybe."

Her breath caught.

And for a split second, she thought he was going to kiss her.

He leaned in just enough for her to feel his breath, his fingers tightening around hers. Her whole body went still, waiting—hoping.

But then...

Niall pulled back.

Not far. Just enough.

"Iz," he said, voice strained. "We can't do this. Not right now."

Her heart shattered.

She forced a small nod, even though every part of her wanted to argue, to beg him to change his mind.

Instead, she whispered, "Okay."

But deep down, she knew—this wasn't over.

Not even close.