The Maker: Hollywood

My anchor. She said yes.

He hit post. He flipped the phone’s mute switch, set it face down on the nightstand, and closed his eyes to get another hour of sleep.

He completely missed the unmitigated meltdown that happened over the next sixty minutes.

Because Daniel Miller was essentially a ghost on social media, the notification that he had uploaded a new photo triggered a massive algorithm spike. The platform’s servers actually throttled for a few seconds as millions of users clicked the notification. Within ten minutes, the post had half a million likes. Within twenty, the image was trending worldwide on Twitter.

The major entertainment outlets scrambled to get their articles out. The news desks at the major trades called their writers in early to cover the post.

Variety published a piece titled: Miller Studios Mogul Daniel Miller Engaged to Breakout Actress Florence.

People Magazine pushed an exclusive right to their homepage: Inside the Quiet Engagement of Hollywood’s Most Private Power Couple.

The real chaos was happening in the comment sections and on the forums. Over on Reddit, the r/popculturechat subreddit had a massive megathread pinned to the top of the page within half an hour. Thousands of comments were pouring in every minute.

User FilmBro99: Wait, did Daniel Miller actually remember his instagram password? I’m dead. Also that ring is sick. Thank god he didn’t buy a tacky Hollywood boulder. It actually looks classy.

User CinephileQueen: Honestly good for them. I hate celebrity couples normally but they actually seem super lowkey. She’s gorgeous and he’s handsome af, also basically printing money at this point with Miller Studios.

User StarWarsNerd22: Bro, remember how they met? They’ve been together since the first Star Wars shoot when she was a total nobody playing Leia. Christian Bale and Sebastian Stan were the big names on that set, and she just totally bypassed Han and Luke to bag the director. Absolute legend.

User MovieFanatic22: Bro finally locked it down. I bet the wedding is going to be locked down tighter than a CIA black site though. We aren’t seeing a single picture of that dress.

While the general public was highly supportive, a very specific corner of the internet was in deep mourning.

The Miller’s Muses was a highly devoted, intensely thirsty fanclub of women who obsessed over Daniel’s rare red carpet appearances, his directing style, and his general brooding aesthetic. Their dedicated Twitter community was currently going through the five stages of grief in real-time.

User MuseFan99: I am currently crying in the club. We lost him, ladies. It’s officially over. Drop your Fs in the chat.

User DirectorWife: I am literally sick to my stomach. Alexa, play Taylor Swift. I need a minute to process this betrayal.

User IndieDarling: I’m devastated, obviously. But honestly Florence is a queen and she keeps him sane so I’ll allow it. Still wearing black all week though out of respect for my shattered dreams. Go touch grass, girls, we have to move on.

By the time Daniel finally rolled out of bed and walked downstairs to the kitchen, his phone was practically vibrating off the counter.

He poured himself a cup of coffee, leaned against the marble island, and finally looked at his screen. He had eighty-six unread text messages and a dozen missed calls.

He opened his texts. The first one was from Tom Wiley.

Bout damn time, man. Was literally gonna write you a script on how to do it since you were dragging your feet. Congrats.

Daniel snorted and typed a quick reply telling Tom to shut up and get back to work on his next draft.

He scrolled down and found a text in a group chat from Christian Bale and Sebastian Stan.

Bale: Saw the news, mate. Congratulations. Handled it a lot smoother than Han Solo ever would have.

Stan: Seriously man, congrats. The Force is strong with this one. Let us know when the bachelor party is.

Daniel smiled and shot a quick thank you back to the guys who had helped him build his first massive blockbuster.

His phone buzzed in his hand with an incoming call from Elena Palmer. He swiped to answer.

”Good morning,” Daniel said, taking a sip of his coffee.

”Dan, my phone is physically melting right now,” Elena’s voice came through the speaker. She sounded entirely frazzled but deeply affectionate. ”Every PR rep from Vanity Fair to Vogue is blowing up my inbox asking for exclusive interview rights for the wedding. They want photo spreads and exclusive venue access. Tell me you aren’t doing a magazine spread.”