Page 110 of Unscripted

"Thirty seconds on the final break," the director behind camera called out. We had been instructed to stand and line up behind Gemma for the final segment of the show. So there I was, teetering in my heels and trying not to think about all the ways in which the night was going horribly wrong. Before I could even blink, we were live again.

"It’s finally time to announce your winners," Gemma said to the camera. She had a shiny gold envelope in her hand which she shook at the camera before popping it open.

I tried to strain my eyes to see what was written inside, but it was too far away, the writing too small.

"In fourth place . . . " she read out, pausing for effect, "James and Molly!"

The crowd cheered and we all clapped as the pair hugged each other. They waved to the audience and then took their seats back on the bench.

“The next match, coming in third place . . . ” Gemma called out, moving right along with the show, “Chiara and Alfie!”

I let out a yell, cheering for Chiara as she and Alfie waved to the crowd.

And then it was down to the final two matches, Ella and Liam, and Callum and me.

We had made it to the final two.

Winning the show had been the goal all along, was the whole reason Callum and I were even together, but to be on the brink of it now was surreal.

I looked up at Callum and wondered if he felt as off kilter as I did.

“Now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for . . . ” Gemma said dramatically.

Callum finally looked back at me, and for the first time all night he didn’t immediately look away.

I kept my gaze on him as Gemma carried on.

“The winners of Bella Amore season seven are…”

A hush fell over the crowd and the weight of the moment ballooned.

This is it. It all comes down to this.

Still staring up at Callum, I reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it in mine. I couldn’t read his expression, couldn’t tell what he was thinking. But he didn’t pull away. Didn’t take his eyes off mine.

And then Gemma was speaking again.

“Callum and Poppy!”

The words hung in the air, the weight of them slowly landing.

We won.

We actually won.

Around us there was chaos—screaming and confetti cannons going off and the audience leaping to their feet.

Through it all, I kept looking at Callum.

His gaze wasn’t one of elation or relief. He didn’t even seem mad anymore. There was only sadness in his eyes as he whispered down to me, “You win.”

We looked at each other through the confetti falling, and it was like time and space stilled; like the Earth slowed down and ceased spinning, all so I could see the hurt in his eyes. Maybe he could see the same in mine. We’d gotten into this together and now here we were, with everything we wanted. It was the best possible outcome, and yet it all seemed so trivial. So unimportant, compared to him.

Compared to us.

And then Callum leaned down and kissed me, slow and soft. Maybe it was for the cameras, maybe it was because that’s what the winners of a reality dating show are supposed to do. But as we were swarmed by our friends, as we were pulled away for hugs and congratulations, I couldn’t help but feel sick.

Callum’s kiss hadn’t felt fake or for show.