CATHERINE ZETA JONES ── ♡ The 76th Annual Cannes Film Festival, 2023

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@cathzejones
CATHERINE ZETA JONES ── ♡ The 76th Annual Cannes Film Festival, 2023

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of course you'd enjoy making of anyone a mess thanks to your presence and beauty. you're almost cruel but that's what makes you even cooler but i am not gonna lie there, i hate to make a fool of myself and that usually happens when i see you around. i am 36 now for god's sake! i am supposed to keep my shit together after all these years. anyway, anyway lady. i will try to keep my composure next time and you will enjoy seeing me failing again. can i repeat how happy i was to see you there last week? and these morning streches? you should post about it every morning even when you are not on a yacht. just saying. just a suggestion. tell me... how are you now that you're back at home? are you feeling better? things got solved? i am still worried about you. i know things were not easy for you during that trip. did you regret about going? of course not because of me because i know for a fact that you had fun torturing me a little just with being at your presence, but you know what i mean. and you don't need cocktails to open your heart, you're safe and you need to take everything out of your chest lady. i might not be the best at doing it but i know for a fact, that once you do it, you start seeing things differently. i did that with my ex during the trip, and god, i feel much lighter now. so, i recommned to do it, talk to me, your closest friend or whoever you want but express what you feel.
Not deliberately cruel, darling. I would never. I also would never brag about how easy it is to make me you blush, or act a fool, so that's been safe with me. We all have our images to uphold, and even the more cool of people have their restraints cut off. No matter what age we are, either. And it'll be my upmost pleasure every single time, but i mean it, i really enjoyed the company in cancun and the extremely friendly face, it was frankly exactly what i needed. I just hope it something that doesn’t have to stay put in paradise and i can actually get the delight of your beautiful presence again soon. Oh darling, you do make me laugh. But who knows, maybe i'll turn my early morning borning yoga into a series, out of your encouragement. Even if it is far better upon a yacht . Everything is. Better, in a sense that i'm home. Solved ? not exactly. It was never going to be that easy, eiza. It still isn’t. But, as it was, i'll be okay, you're a dear for worrying. & Not to say the teasing torture wasn’t my favourite part, because it was. But, do i regret it ? No. Which, is insane, i know. But, there was one night there before we left that, the silence didn’t entirely fall. But anyway, you're right, and i do hope we can just, talk again soon. Like we did. Around all the "teasing" part of it all, you made me feel far more comfterble than i thought was possible, so thank you. I never imagined our reunion would be bearing my heart out about an ex, only for you to somehow remind me i'm human. Even if sometimes i certainly don't feel like it.
I can't wait to continue doing this while we are on set, and doing these walks too. I never realized just how good of a start to the day talking a walk can be. I think Obsession is the scarier one, mama, but it's also so good. We have to watch that one, and then Backrooms. I will show you all the lure for Backrooms too, because it started from a YouTube series actually. The director is living out his dream, and he's like twenty years old directing a number one movie in the world. Kind of inspiring, right?
@cathzejones
Our expanded Jenna and catherine mindfulness time, it really has been making those earlier starts less agonising, darling. I went and did a little homework, and well, from the trailer alone i could could already feel my blood pressure rising, so that's exactly what your mother just loves to hear. But oh ? you know, if there's a whole realm to one of the films, i'm actually quite intrigued. So i've heard, and i do love that more young creatives are getting a platform and chance, even if i'm about to have double the nightmares. But its' fine, it's okay. I'd do anything for you miss Jenna.
Private: God, Cath… thank you for telling me all of that. I think what hurts the most hearing this is how much of it you’ve been carrying by yourself. And honestly? I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough grace. You were hurt. She was hurt. Neither of you handled it perfectly, but that doesn’t make either of you a monster. What I’m hearing is that you felt pushed aside by someone you loved, and instead of talking about it, the resentment grew until it exploded. That happens more often than people want to admit. The fact that you can sit here now and recognize your part in it says a lot about the kind of person you are. And C, I’m really glad you’re okay. I know you said not to worry, but hearing about that night scares me. Not because I think less of you, but because I care about you. I’m glad you took time to step away and get your head straight afterward. As for her… I don’t know what this means for the two of you. Maybe neither of you knows yet. But I do know that life would have been a lot easier if she didn’t care. The fact that she got you home safely after everything says something. The fact that you’re both still here, trying to navigate this awkwardness, says something too. And please stop worrying about taking time away from me and Pedro. If you needed somewhere to go, our door would be open. Always. That’s what friends are for. You don’t have to have everything figured out right now. You don’t have to decide what happens next. Just be kind to yourself for a minute. You’ve been through a lot. And for what it’s worth, I love you.
PRIVATE: I'm not proud of the fact i held that heavinesses for this long, held it until it really affected me, cara mia...but i was so blinded. I felt so stupid. So idiotic, like someone throwing a tantrum because i wasn’t getting my own way, but far more aggressively. And out of every bad thing that entire day that she called me, the second she called me crazy, I slapped her. And that's the part that's kept me awake at night, kept me feeling so utterly ill to my stomach. And what pushed me to my limits the night she handled me in such a state i wished she never had to see me in, at all. It's like i couldn't even hide behind the "I hate you" facade, i was hiding behind. I resented her, but i never hated her. I couldn’t. And i still don't. I know you care, which is why it made me upset having to even tell you all this; but i need you to know, and i promise you this, i'm taking care of myself. Despite, what's currently happening with Cate, i'm really...really trying, billie. We ended up talking. Surprisingly, as if it hadn’t already been a sick joke sharing a room; the night before we left, she had the same idea as i did, getting and early night. Neither of us could sit in that silence. And then suddenly, i found myself admitting that i didn’t want her to disappear, but how do you go from there billie. It just feels like trying to put shards of glass back together, it just aches when you try. And i'm just....exhausted. Because i wish i didn’t love her as much as i still do, it's sick. And thank you for letting me just, stick around when i needed it during those last few days in cancun. I know you're going to tell me i never need to say thank you at all, but shush, let me, i don't care how long we've known one another. You and Pedro showed me kindness when i needed it, and you, are the one important person in my life who always does, i love you even more, my darling. Always will
Cate stood frozen at the minibar, the glass already cool and heavy in her hand as the amber liquid glinted under the low suite lights. The soft clink of the bottle against the rim had been the only sound breaking the suffocating quiet—until Catherine’s voice drifted across the room like a ghost. Try not to drink the whole bottle.That was it. No anger, no real acknowledgment. Just... that. As if they were polite strangers sharing a cab rather than two women whose lives had once tangled so deeply, even if it was only for a short time. Cate’s fingers tightened around the glass until her knuckles whitened. She was not sure if she wanted to cry again or yell at her. The frustration that had been simmering for weeks—hell, for the entire miserable evening—finally crested into something sharper and more painful. It was the realization that there was nothing left, nothing to fight for. So instead of reacting and doing something stupid, Cate smiled and decided to be civil, polite, and keep… quiet.
She could feel the pain rising in her chest, mixing with the lingering burn of alcohol. Quiet and looking out the window, glass in one hand, she turned slowly. The silk of her yellow nightgown moved gracefully and gently, in contrast with frustration that revolved inside the Aussie actress. She walked slowly to the closest window and opened it, hoping the breeze of the sea might help ease these feelings. The blonde leaned back against the glass door frame that led to the terrace, staring at the immensity and beauty of the sea. She turned slightly inside to get a glimpse of Catherine sitting there against the pillows, book in her lap, looking every inch the composed, untouchable vision she always was. That perfect posture. Those guarded eyes. She hated that, today more than ever. But then again, she nibbled her cheek before even saying something. Instead, she brought the glass to her lips and let the liquid linger in her mouth. Her blue eyes stared at the sea. She wished she knew how to answer without anger, without seeming aggressive or cruel like Catherine was being—or at least what she perceived as such—because the Welsh woman’s coldness was the cruelest way to hurt her. Yet some calm came to her. Maybe it was the sea, the stars, and the wonderful view. Or maybe it was simply the fact that Cate didn’t want to hurt Catherine back. She was tired of that war. She needed to control herself and not act by instinct like she always used to do. She was suffering, but she would keep suffering in silence and without attacking Catherine again. She would not be able to cope with that guilt once more.
The faint crease between her brows—that Cate had once known how to smooth away with a touch or a stupid joke—caught her attention again. For a second, she froze when she heard Catherine’s voice once more. She thought she would say something, that she would give her any signal. Her body tensed and grew alert at the sound of that “I” that had left Catherine’s mouth. She waited. She begged for something. But it didn’t come. For a second she thought she had hallucinated, but no—she was not drunk enough to hear things that didn’t exist. She kept waiting… until Catherine instead made a comment about the bottle. And that was it.The blonde moved her head slightly, not turning to look back at the Welsh woman. Instead, she simply took another sip from her drink and let out a content sigh accompanied by a soft hum. She didn’t reply this time. She was not giving her anything in return. She took another shaky sip from the glass just to steady herself, the whiskey burning a path down her throat, as she felt like some inconvenient ghost that Catherine had to tolerate for one more miserable night. She had never imagined what it was like to still love someone this much and be met with indifference. Cate pressed her lips together hard, trying to hold it back, but the dam was already cracking. Her eyes stung. She could feel the heat rising in her face, the familiar pressure behind her nose. She set the glass down on the nearest surface with a sharp click before she dropped it and then, without turning to look at her and with her voice cracked, she said in a soft almost defeated tone, “I thought that tonight maybe... maybe we could... Maybe have at least a small talk. But you won’t even look at me properly. And I must confess that I feel ridiculous.” She continued after wiping a tear with the back of her hand, frustrated for showing herself weak again, so she cut herself off with a harsh breath, shaking her head. “If this was revenge, I must admit you do it so well. You win and I got what I deserved.” Cate said this as she walked back slowly, trembling slightly, her eyes once again watered by tears. The silence that followed her outburst felt louder than anything she’d said. Cate’s gaze dropped to the floor, to her bare feet against the plush carpet, anywhere but at the woman who still held far too much power over her heart. She waited. One heartbeat. Two. Hoping against all reason that this time Catherine would say something real. That the wall would crack. That the woman she’d fallen so helplessly in love with would finally let her see behind the armor. But the longer the quiet stretched, the more Cate felt herself fracturing right there in the middle of the suite. “It’s fine darling. Don’t say nothing at all… this nightmare will end soon and you don’t have to deal with this ever again” she said softly, pretending she was not crying, but the tears would not stop falling down her cheeks. She sniffed her nose as she fixed her bed to get into it after finishing her drink. Sitting on the edge of the bed with her back to Catherine so she wouldn’t see her tears, she waited until her glass was empty, trying to keep herself busy with her phone and avoiding any sobs. She put her glass down, laid on bed still with her back to Catherine. A long silence was broken again by Cate but not in the ordinary way, this time, it was a text sent by the aussie to catherine, maybe she didn't want to talk but she had to take out of her chest just one more thing, so Catherine's phone buzzled and the text sent by the blonde lying near by read "I thought we could remain as friends... sorry about it and everything else. CB" Cate shut her phone and put it down, she turned the light of her side off and cuddled up against her pillow as the tears keep rolling down her cheeks "don't say nothing at all" she whispered "you don't have to. that was my last text or and these my last words to you" she said before pretending she would sleep.
Catherine stayed unmoving amongst her bedding, the silk sheets twisting faintly beneath the subtle, anxious twitching of her fingers. Yet, the moment that practical warning had left her lips — the second she had questioned Cate's ability not to drink the entire minibar instead of saying what she actually meant — everything she had truly wanted to confess was instantly burnt to ash. Frankly, she wished nothing had left her lips at all. Her gaze drifted back down, tearing away from the Aussie the split second she watched the blonde's fingers tighten around the glass. Catherine's dark brown eyes stayed stubbornly put over pages she couldn't even register. Yet, there was a desperate safety to just... pretending. From the periphery of her vision, she could see Cate moving across the room, stepping toward the separate bed. As those frantic movements etched themselves indelibly into Catherine’s brain, each aching word that left Cate's lips made her chest feel heavier, tighter, more suffocating. Yet, her gaze remained fixed. She had mastered the art of non-acknowledgment — not out of coldness, but out of pure, unadulterated fear. She knew emotions were dangerously high. Their respective masks were slipping in entirely different ways, and the raw vulnerability behind these hotel walls had reached an all-time, heartbreaking peak.
“If this was revenge, I must admit you do it so well. You win and I got what I deserved.”
It was those words. Those exact, bleeding words that echoed and rang brutally through her ears.The accusation made Catherine simply let her eyes fall closed. She didn’t feel like a winner. God, she felt like a woman utterly consumed by terror. It was as though every piece of her legendary armor, every practiced ability to cast herself as stoic and cold, had completely vanished. Beneath the black silk, she was just a woman trying desperately not to snap the final, fraying string holding her together. And then, silence fell. It was louder this time. The air felt impossibly sharp, and the suffocating heat of the room didn't help; all she could hear was the faint, rhythmic crash of the waves through the open window and the light, clinical clink of Cate's glass. Catherine's eyes fell back open. The strain behind them was immense, her gaze desperately clinging to the shadows on the ceiling for a brief, utter moment before she finally closed her book. The movement was gentle, quick, as she let the novel sit upon her nightstand, and switched the lamp beside her off. She turned her entire body, letting her head lay low against the pillow, intentionally facing completely away from Cate's side of the room.She felt something thick and painful catch in her throat, wanting so desperately to let out a breath she had been trapping for hours. A sudden, hot wetness slid over her cheek, staining the silk of her pillowcase, but her body did nothing to stop it. She simply lay in her own grief, frozen.Catherine closed her eyes once more, listening with acute, agonizing precision to every brief movement Cate was making across the room. She kept repeating the same bitter lie to herself, over and over again — convincing her aching heart that this was for the best, that tomorrow they would simply go back to avoiding one another. That cate was just being lead by the several glasses of alcohol. Nothing more.
But no part of her body could rest, nor could it even begin to find sleep. Her mind was entirely wired, trapped inside the cage of her own silence. It was a silence that, for once, felt less like armor and more like a surrender — a desperate choice to stop throwing oil onto a fire, even when there was simply nothing left to burn. The Welsh woman was utterly exhausted; her heart was silently, entirely shattered. As her eyes fluttered back open , those final, defeated words from Cate hit her all over again. You don't have to deal with this ever again. Catherine wanted to hold her breath. She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut and simply disappear from the wreckage of this nightmare. She wanted the hot, silent tears pooling onto her pillow to evaporate her entirely. She squeezed her eyelids tight, hoping the physical strain would finally force her to drift away from this emotional warfare. And then. DING.
The sudden, harsh glow of her phone screen sliced through the suite. Behind the slight strain and burning redness of her eyes, Catherine caught the name illuminating the display. At first, it took a painful second to register that it was Cate. Cate. A wave of profound confusion washed over the dark-haired woman, her brows creasing deeply as she gently reached out into the cold air for the device. With the back of her trembling hand, she hurriedly wiped the cold, dried tears from her cheek before her thumb pressed against the glass, unlocking the phone to face whatever parting shot Cate had left her. Catherine read it. And again. And again. She read it while the faint, tragic whispers from across the room still echoed in her ears. She read those clinical, detached initials through the thick, suffocating silence until a gentle, double inhale finally caught her. She could feel her entire body begin to vibrate; she could feel a terrifying numbness travel all the way to the tips of the fingers holding the phone. And finally, with a fractured, hollow shudder, she let that breath she'd been holding in for hours, out.
Catherine didn’t talk just yet. With a trembling thumb, she typed back a clinical, devastating "I'm sorry." She let it send, watching the screen illuminate with the delivery confirmation, hearing the sharp, electronic ping echo from Cate's side of the room. She let that silence fill the suite until it became a physical pressure she could no longer endure. "This isn't some cruel game I am playing..." Her voice finally drifted through the dark, low and smoky, carrying the heavy texture of a velvet curtain drawing shut. She could feel the burning heat rushing to her cheeks, but she stubbornly refused to grant a sob the satisfaction of escaping. Her teeth caught the plush edge of her bottom lip as her eyes hooded closed. Her silhouette remained rigidly turned away, a dark shadow carved against the mattress, while her gaze bled back down into the cold, digital ink still glowing on her screen. "I don't want you to disappear," she admitted, her voice cracking under the sudden, immense weight of the confession. "I don't want this to be how things remain between us. God—" She cut herself off, a slight, quiet frustration hitching in her chest. "I just—" She swallowed hard, fighting the suffocating air for breath. "I just don't know where we... how do you go back to where we left things ? Even as friends. When looking at one another is just as painful" Catherine went entirely silent for a beat, letting the stillness rush back in to swallow them both. When she spoke again, her signature velvet voice was fractured into something entirely unrefined, almost unrecognizable. "I feel like everything is... broken," she murmured into the dark. "And I know you feel that too. Trying to force the shattered pieces back into place will drive us both insane. It already has."

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There was nothing that caused more conflict within Cate than feeling like an outsider, and the Welsh woman had been an expert at making her feel exactly that way during the last months. Lately, Cate felt like a stranger, like someone who didn't belong anywhere at all. She couldn't blame Catherine for that, but then why had everything felt this way ever since they stopped talking? The Australian actress could socialize, laugh, and pretend she was having the most wonderful conversations, enjoying herself just enough to fool everyone around her. But every now and then she would pause and suddenly realize it felt as though she were watching herself from the outside. As if she could see herself lying to the world, pretending she was fine when she wasn't. Maybe the dark clothes, the events she chose to attend—or avoid—those forced smiles and the sadness lingering behind her eyes were enough to tell the people who truly knew her that something wasn't quite right. Still, she refused to lose her energy, her joy, her twisted and often inappropriate sense of humor. Every day she fought to let that side of herself shine through, even if only a little. Some days it was easier than others. Other days it felt impossible. That constant ache, those memories of rejection, of being hurt in every possible way by Catherine and somehow still feeling love and empathy for her, haunted her every hour of every day. And whenever she thought she'd found a window, some small opportunity to break through this new wall Catherine had built around herself, she failed. It was like standing in front of a wall of ice. There was no expression on her face, no emotion to hold onto, and it was maddening. Seeing Catherine's coldness, seeing how her posture remained straight and guarded, how that impenetrable barrier refused to crack, Cate smiled to herself. She lowered her gaze every time she was met with another monosyllabic answer and sighed. Maybe out of frustration. Maybe because she was tired of constantly feeling like giving up. Maybe simply because she'd had enough. But she preferred to label it as exhaustion from work.
The blonde chose to create some distance once again, sitting on the edge of her bed and absentmindedly playing with whatever she could find on the nightstand while disguising her nerves, her anxiety, and her growing weariness with the situation between them. Lately it was common to feel that way, as if something in her dimmed whenever she thought of Catherine. A memory. A flashback to that last disastrous night together. But now she could physically feel it happening, her energy and the ease with which she'd been trying to keep a conversation alive slowly fading away. There was a knot in her throat. Catherine's short, cold words cut through her like a scalpel, leaving a thousand tiny wounds across her skin. Cate finally looked up when she received more than a monosyllable, when Catherine mentioned the psychiatric clinic. The ghost of a smile appeared on the Australian's face, surprised by the mention of it, though she quickly tried to hide it. She simply nodded before making another attempt not to let the conversation die. "I don't know how you've managed to stay here..." she said softly, trying to sound playful in that particular way that was so uniquely hers. "I imagine knowing who your roommate was probably didn't do you or your treatment any favors. Terrible choice, staying with the person who caused" she was serious but disguised with a jokingly tone and a smile that soon disappeared by seeing Catherine still serious and making her feel bad about the bad joke. The guilt pressed so heavily against her chest that it felt physical, tangible, real. Even so, she smiled again and lowered her gaze. Her fingers nervously toyed with the fabric of her dress while she bit down on her lower lip, trying to figure out what else she could possibly say. The knot in her throat, the pressure in her chest, Catherine's distant responses—suddenly the room felt too small. Cate was sweating slightly, and perhaps the alcohol was magnifying everything. "Well... at least you don't hate me. Or that's what you want to make me blieve." She smiled without looking up and let out a quiet sigh. The long silences between them were making her sick. Her restless hands finally let go of the dress with a hint of irritation after hearing Catherine admit she didn't know what to say.
"You don't have to say anything," Cate suddenly replied, standing up and rubbing at her forehead. "Really... you don't have to say anything." She smiled again, trying to find empathy for the other woman and the impossible situation they found themselves in. "So while the room collapses around us..." she began, forcing a small smile, "I'm going to take a shower. Try to get some sleep. I feel like I'm suffocating. It's so warm in here. I need a shower, and if there's one thing I can't complain about, it's the ba—" She was doing it again. Rambling. Talking as if Catherine had shown any interest in hearing her. The realization made her laugh softly at herself. She waved a hand in the air, shook her head, and closed her eyes, frustrated by her own inability to stop talking. For a moment she simply tried to pull herself together and stay quiet. Gathering her things, her robe, and what little dignity she felt she still had left, she disappeared into the bathroom. The door closed behind her with slightly more force than necessary, and she remained there for a very long time.
Hurt, thoughtful, and still a little drunk, tears streamed down her face beneath the running water. Her trembling hands scrubbed at her already irritated skin far too harshly, as though punishing herself might somehow silence the desperate urge to fix everything. Her forehead rested against the marble wall while the water ran down her back, repeating the same things to herself over and over again. Be quiet. Stay away. Leave her alone. Cate lost track of time completely. She remained beneath the warm water far longer than any normal person would have. Even after wrapping herself in her robe, she stayed in the bathroom for what felt like forever. She simply wasn't brave enough to walk back out. Not brave enough to look at Catherine and feel that coldness all over again. To leave her speechless. To force her into another interaction she clearly didn't want. She needed to stop acting like an idiot. The blonde spent extra time taking care of her skin, drying her hair, exchanging messages with two of her children. Only when the redness around her eyes had faded enough to hide the fact that she'd been crying, and when the alcohol had mostly left her system, did she finally decide it was time to leave. Dressed in a soft yellow silk nightgown with a matching white robe, her hair dry and her skin still flushed from how aggressively she'd scrubbed it, Cate stood there gathering the courage to open the door. Her hand lingered on the handle as she took a deep breath and silently prayed Catherine would either be gone or asleep. She wasn't. Catherine was still there. Awake. Sitting nearby. Cate cursed inwardly. This time she said nothing. She only offered a small smile politely as she walked toward the vanity. She needed a Tylenol or something for the headache that was beginning to settle in, though perhaps it wasn't a hangover at all. Maybe it was simply tension. Maybe she'd spent too much time overthinking. Now she was the one who didn't know what to say. So she stayed silent. She bit the inside of her cheeks to keep herself from speaking, from complaining, but most of all from breaking down and crying again as she searched through her belongings. And all the while she could feel Catherine's presence there beside her—closer than ever, and somehow farther away than she'd ever been. She failed. She didn't find anything in there and suddenly she snapped, throwing her bag in a rough way "You know what?! i need another drink. i hope you don't mind" she said annoyed walking to the mini bar in the suite to open one of the bottles that were there and make herself a drink.
Catherine's fingers anxiously, but ever so subtly, remained twisting alongside the sheets as she sat upon the edge of the bed. It was like a tiny twist within her stomach — neither good nor bad. But that breathless laugh through her nose at Cate's returned comment about her time away had felt far too natural. Yet, her eyes still flickered toward the blonde with a far stronger ache at the idea that the Aussie imagined she was the root cause of it all. Upon the surface, she was. Upon the surface, Cate was the reason Catherine had drank far too much beyond her medical limits that night... but beneath it, this was a woman who had already been struggling, had been unwell, far longer than that. Struggling with unhealthy communication, with an unhealthy way of sabotaging things the way she had been, so incredibly fast. Frankly, this was as much her own fault as it was Cate's. But all she had given the woman was a weakened smile, and no correction. Until now. "Don't flatter yourself," Catherine practically whispered. It didn't fall from her lips out of spite, or out of fear; it came as a natural, quiet response to Cate's automatic notion that Catherine would waste her energy, or her breath, telling a lie right now. Simply put, the Welshwoman didn’t hate her. As much as things would be far, far easier if she did... it just felt entirely impossible. But with that quiet murmuring, the words quickly fell away. Catherine's dark brown eyes latched onto the back of Cate's figure as the blonde swayed away from the separate bed frame. Slowly, Catherine let herself sink beneath the upper edge of her own bed covers, seeking a sanctuary that wasn't there. She knew that searching for anything more than just a few hollow response words right now would be like opening a floodgate. They would both simply drown in it.The air in the suite grew noticeably thicker the moment that truth left Catherine's lips. It was a rather vulnerable notion — the terrifying realization that her mind felt entirely numb.To begin saying anything deeper, anything truly honest, felt like carving a hole right through her own chest and shoving her bare heart onto the silk sheets before them. It was a raw, suffocating feeling she had been desperately bottling up ever since the exact second she had locked eyes with the blonde upon arrival. So, all she did was softly nod. Her lips parted ever so briefly, as though a desperate thought were finally forming, a word catching sharply in her throat — but nothing came of it. Catherine did exactly that. She said absolutely nothing.
She wasn’t entirely sure how much time had bled away between the second Cate's figure disappeared behind the bathroom door and the moment that heavy breath, trapped so tightly in her chest, was finally let out. Her cheeks felt burning hot; her mind felt dizzier the longer the silence stretched. Briefly, she let her eyes shut. Her fingers trailed tightly along her dark hair before her hand flung faintly over her mouth, as though to physically catch any small, desperate sob itching to break free. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. Yet, she was entirely trapped by a far greater, suffocating frustration. A single tear escaped, tracing a hot path over her cheek. Catherine refocused on her breath, forcing a quiet rhythm back into her lungs until she calmed, feeling the numb, electric tingles wash over her face as she composed herself. She anchored her posture. She locked down her mind. But suddenly, it was far harder to hide the cracks. That profound vulnerability had already broken the surface, and the moment Cate walked back into their suite, the damage was done. Something had silently, irrevocably shifted.
It was mere minutes later that Catherine — the very picture of sheer, unbothered elegance, looking as though she hadn’t just been completely on the verge of crumbling — was sitting comfortably back against her pillows. She had picked up the book from her bedside table, handling it as though that alone could successfully occupy her mind. Truthfully, it hadn’t done a single thing to distract her, but she would try nonetheless. She kept her gaze fixed stubbornly on the page, forcing her focus onto the text, refusing to let her eyes flick over toward Cate even for a second after she heard the sound of the running shower stop. The silhouette was caught from the corner of her eye, but she hadn’t focused back up, not yet. Catherine didn't flinch when Cate's announced filled the air. Instead, her dark eyes finally tracked the movement of the soft yellow silk nightgown as Cate marched toward the minibar, a striking, painful contrast to her own obsidian robe. The sheer absurdity of it all hung in the humid air "You can have a drink," Catherine added softly. Her shoulders fell just a fraction. "You don't have to ask for my permission..." The delivery was gentle, almost lighthearted, but still somehow neutral — but a genuine reminder that, regardless of the wreckage of this situation, this room was still Cate's as much as it was hers. Immediately after speaking, Catherine desperately trailed her eyes back to the pages before her. It was a visible effort; it almost physically strained her to resist reacting to the sudden shift in the Aussie's body language, or to the sharp, rhythmic sound of the alcohol being poured across the room. Catherine's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, catching that semi-frantic movement. And there it was again: that lump caught in her throat, the air inhaling through her nose becoming slightly hotter, heavier. Slowly, she let the book rest flat against her legs. Her untouchable expression finally fell; a crease appeared between her brows—faint, but undeniably there. There was no coldness left in her features now, no stoic mask to shield her. To Catherine, being utterly unable to brush this sudden expression, these treacherous feelings and thoughts, back under lock and key felt like a fate far worse than death. This vulnerability was a part of her, no matter how desperately she wanted to control it. No matter how much she wanted to just sit there and pay no attention to the sharp sound of Cate clicking the glass against the bottle, the noise pinged something raw deep inside her. "I—" The single syllable fell from her lips before she sharply paused. She allowed herself to breathe, just for a solitary moment, her tongue darting out to lick her bottom lip as she stopped herself from unleashing words that felt like jumping off a cliff. "Try not to drink the whole bottle," she added softly. Those weren’t the words she wanted to say. God, they weren’t the thoughts she desperately needed to voice. She wanted to tell Cate that she wasn’t ignoring this. She wasn’t ignoring what had happened between them. Frankly, she was haunted by every single detail, every hour of every day since. From the exact moment she awoke in the morning to the rare, agonizing second she managed to let her body rest at night, it was slowly killing her. But it felt entirely unfair to let those heavy words fall now. It felt cruel to let those suffocating thoughts surface while the blonde was intoxicated, standing defensively by the minibar, already pushed to her absolute limit.
My knees tended to get weak whenever you approached me. I knew there was something different about you. Only two women have ever had that effect on me: Rosamund and you. So when I saw my chance with you, I took it, and I don't regret it at all. Absolutely not. I had the best time. Your company was exquisite every single time I had the opportunity to spend time with you. The awful thing now? My knees still shake a little when you're around. I confirmed that over the past few days, every time you walked past me, you completely changed the energy of the place. You're insanely beautiful. It's almost cruel for those who only get to admire you from afar. So thank you for sharing that evening with me. Thank you for properly catching up with me and telling me everything about your divorce, your kids, Wednesday, and your upcoming projects... but especially thank you for being vulnerable with me when it comes to Cate. And I am sorry if I freaked out a little when I realized which Cate we were talking about. Anyway, if you ever need to vent or release some of that accumulated tension, I'm still that Eiza who loved running to you just to help you forget things for a little while. I mean it. Maybe not in bed anymore, or who knows. but you know what i mean. I am not that young anymore, I have been through a lot and I feel like you need a friend to talk and vent and being brutally honest about your thoughts, your feelings... and i am here for that, even I still think you need to start being that honest, open, and kind with yourself first but i am here... to reminding you these things.
Don't be too modest, darling. You make people weak in the knees the moment you look their way! Though I won't pretend I didn't enjoy your reaction... because I did. Far too much. You've just always been wonderfully easy to tease, and that’s what makes being around you so effortless. Whatever happened in the past stays there, and I don't regret a single second of it either. Just as I certainly don’t regret making this little reunion happen, in fact, I'm so incredibly thrilled it did. I was almost about to just pull you away that night, but I thought that would've been far too rude, even if I know you'd enjoy it. Anyway, darling... your words, then and here now. They've always stuck with me. You tend to have this magical, poetic flow about how you talk and it's quite... mesmerizing. You're not only breathtakingly beautiful, but how you see the world ? How you see things. That's why I was pulled to you in the first place. And yes, I'm entirely being selfish here and enjoying these terribly sweet compliments. So thank you for that, too. And please, don't be sorry. What's better then getting your celebrity gossip first hand ? Besides, you stayed and listened to the baggage I was laying out when you could've been immersed in far more that night, but you listened. So again, thank you. It felt like relieving a creak in my neck. One that is, unfortunately, still there... so I just might hold you to that offer. The tension I've been carrying lately is enough to spend weeks in a massage chair. But above all, it was just nice knowing I could trust you, Eiza. As you can with me, darling. That goes both ways. You're still as cheeky as ever, I see. I'll keep that in mind. But I know... and you know I'm not the greatest at spilling out how I'm feeling without far too many cocktails inside me. But well, it's far better to know exactly what I'm saying these days when i'm around the right people. Far more clear headed.
Thank you for being the best pool partner and yoga partner, mama. I enjoyed our early morning yoga sessions, and our walks too. I think we should make this a thing when we get back to set, and keep doing it. We can bring a little slice of this vacation with us back to work. See? I didn't show you anything to traumatize you during this trip. There are some really good horror stuff out right now and coming out. It's a good time for the genre. There is a movie called Obsession that we have to watch, and one called Backrooms coming out that I've been hearing good things about. You'll go with me to watch both of them?
@cathzejones
Darling i already miss those morning yoga sessions by the pool, it went by far too quickly. But you, my sweet jenna made it far more peaceful and lord knows i needed that extra little shake of relaxation before reality hit us again. Please, the addams daily yoga sessions would catch such traction, i think we should. Get everyone to mellow out. And trust me Jenna, you were the least traumatising thing i dealt with on this trip, frankly the horror felt like the greatest little paradise distraction. So i'll give you that ! Tell me more ? and include which one will have me potentially sleeping less....but you know my answer's always going to be yes. Just warn your poor mama.
Catherine Zeta-Jones and Jenna Ortega attend Netflix's "Wednesday" Emmys FYSEE Event at Hollywood Forever Cemetery @jannaortega
She should’ve stayed out longer. She should’ve kept pretending she was having the time of her life, that everyone’s laughter and endless conversations were just as entertaining as her own. Maybe if she had stayed a little longer, she wouldn’t be trapped in this strange situation with Catherine now. Alone in that room, but this time she wasn’t fighting the urge to run away, sleep, or pretend to be asleep. She was simply trying to survive in the most natural way possible, even when she knew she was probably failing miserably at it. From the corner of her eye, the blonde could still see Catherine looking flawless, slender, poised, every movement elegant in a way that almost felt offensive considering the heat of the night and the emotional chaos both of them were drowning in. Cate let out a soft, almost mocking laugh at the absurdity of the room confusion. “Whoever organized this clearly forgot to update their information… now I finally understand why people release breakup statements,” she said ironically, because the truth was that they had never even properly announced they were together in the first place. Strange, living in that endless limbo of are we or are we not? A limbo Cate silently blamed herself for. She had never said it out loud. Never officially asked Catherine to be with her. Maybe they never would’ve been normal, they were never meant to be a conventional couple but somehow they had managed to become everything to each other… and now they were nothing.
The pressure in her chest tightened as the room suddenly felt smaller. Cate had thought that after several days she’d grown used to Catherine’s perfume lingering everywhere, saturating the air of the room, but apparently not. Or maybe it was the cocktails she had downed earlier making everything feel sharper, crueler. How unfair it was. Once upon a time, her entire skin used to carry that scent after hours tangled together beneath the sheets. Now it only brought back thousands of memories and twisted her stomach with the unbearable thought that someone else could enjoy that perfume now, her sweetness, the privilege of loving her. Cate moved slowly around the room, almost absentmindedly searching for her suitcase while stealing glances at Catherine playing nervously with the sheets. She looked just as uncomfortable and anxious as she felt. Oddly enough, that brought her a little comfort. At least she wasn’t the only one suffering through this interaction. But it was now or never. She couldn’t keep running away forever, and for once she silently thanked the alcohol for giving her enough courage to keep the conversation alive. “Oh, I completely agree. Too much noise, too many people. I’m overwhelmed,” she admitted. “And the amount of activities they keep inviting us to? I can’t handle all that. I came here to relax, not to go back home exhausted and probably injured after some ridiculous extreme activity.” Cate laughed softly, waving her hand dismissively, realizing the words were flowing easily again. She finally used finding her jewelry case as an excuse to keep herself occupied. The blonde carefully removed her earrings and accessories, placing each piece away with delicate attention. “You should eat… you shouldn’t spend so many hours without anything in your stomach.” The moment the words left her mouth, still focused on her jewelry, she regretted them instantly. She didn’t want to sound controlling or like she was telling Catherine what to do the way she probably had too many times before. It wasn’t her place anymore. Not her role. She bit her lip, trying to control both her words and herself. Then she smiled faintly, almost embarrassed, nodding softly. “Mhm… i mean just because the food is delicious,” she assured her.
As she turned toward the mirror, she noticed the irritation across her pale skin caused by the sun and her terrible sensitivity, her cheeks and nose flushed pink, the redness spreading down her shoulders and chest. She brushed her fingertips gently over her skin as if inspecting the damage before sighing quietly and stepping away, almost brushing against Catherine as the brunette opened a bottle of water. The silence returned again. Panic flooded her for a moment. She must’ve bothered her again. Made her uncomfortable with the suggestion. Just when she thought she had finally learned how to control her mouth around Catherine, clearly she hadn’t. Cate was already preparing to escape into the bathroom and lock herself in there for at least an hour beneath scalding water when Catherine broke the suffocating silence first. Cate looked up at the beautiful, slender figure standing in front of her. Beautiful in a devastating kind of way, honestly dangerous for her own wellbeing. She could only smile softly and nod. “Yes, it was nice. I ran into Sarah and Naomi… they definitely know how to have a good time. I stole a little of their moment before more people joined us, people I barely even remember now,” she confessed. “But I got overwhelmed. Too much noise… too much… attraction between two people. I didn’t belong there.” She stopped herself before giving too many details about Sarah and Naomi. Instead, she walked toward her bed and sat carefully at the edge of it, her hands resting over her thighs. This time, though, she looked directly at Catherine without looking away. Almost as if the other woman had unknowingly given her permission to have a normal conversation again. Something lighter. Easier. A shy smile crossed her lips. “I haven’t slept… I’m exhausted,” she admitted quietly. “I try to sleep but I guess being away from home… in a place with so many people and so many things I don’t fully understand is driving me insane.” She laughed softly, but eventually the truth serum effect of the alcohol won again. “The truth is… I haven’t been sleeping well knowing you’re here. Not because of anything bad — I mean… it’s not that I can’t stand you or anything. But you know what I mean, right?” Her voice softened as she looked at her carefully. “ It’s complicated and so odd being this close to you and yet not really having you at all and feeling like two strangers who can't even breath the same air whitout feeling... like to strangers”
The room fell into an absolute, breathless hush. The distant sound of the tide outside—a sound that should have been soothing, a sound meant to bring peace to this pristine destination — instead turned into a suffocating pressure. Every second of silence before her lips could part felt tightly coiled, a heavy, anxiety-ridden weight pressing down on her chest. Catherine let out a breathless, quiet scoff at the breakup statement joke, her reaction just as dry as Cate’s delivery had been. And yet, it was terrifyingly hard not to focus on those slightly slower ramblings, or on that tiny, tugged grin buried beneath the other woman's unfocused thoughts. Thoughts that, frankly, Catherine entirely agreed with. Who had the time or the energy to endure one tedious activity after another ? All the Welsh woman wanted was the feel of the sand beneath her feet, a nice massage, and her mind left at ease. Some of those desires were far harder to achieve than others, but those were the cards both women had been unfortunately dealt. Behind the breath she was holding, there was the tiniest, almost imperceptible tug over Catherine's own mouth. If one looked closely enough into the shadows of the room, they might just catch it — a ghost of a smile, gone before it could fully bloom. Now, as she stood by the bed frame, the biting cold of the water bottle between her hands was the only thing grounding her. Her dark eyes locked onto Cate’s flushed face. She was just listening. Absorbing every piece of the night Cate had lived through — real details, raw and messy, far beyond a simple good or fine. Frankly, they were more details than Catherine felt she deserved to hear anymore.
But there it was again: that brief, ghostly, breathless smile that faded faster than it could fully arise "Sounds... eventful. And well, exhausting," Catherine murmured. A tiny breath of a whispering laugh exhaled through her nose. In truth, all she wanted to do was ask more. She wanted to ask about the other woman's night, about Naomi, about Sarah —about all those tiny, casual, ordinary things that used to make stepping inside their room at the end of the evening feel like a deep, depressurized sigh. Even if everything about this room, right now, felt like the absolute opposite. It was as if Catherine wasn’t entirely herself tonight, even wrapped in the familiar luxury of her black silk robe. Neither woman was, essentially. It would have been simpler, far more merciful, if they still had that cold hatred looming between them from the Wednesday set. If that vicious energy had physically been the last thing they had experienced of one another. If everything that followed had simply... never happened. Had the only ache both women suffered been the physical remnants of that day — the blood, the scratches, the tangible wounds. But this wasn’t that anymore. This didn’t feel like two forces crashing blindly against a stone wall. This was infinitely scarier, far more exposing. And as Catherine’s lips parted in the quiet room, the weight of the word exhausting hung between them, carrying a gravity that ran far deeper than the surface. And when Cate finally answered, so genuinely... Catherine felt a sudden, rigid ache in her own muscles. It was as though she had been frozen in stone for far longer than she realized, still holding the cold weight of the water bottle, still trapping that solitary breath in her lungs until, mercifully — she wasn’t. With a slow, deliberate movement, Catherine placed the bottle upon the bedside table, the small sound echoing sharply in the quiet room before her attention drifted completely back to Cate.
But that was the exquisite agony of it. With each vulnerable word that had fallen from the Aussie’s lips, the truth struck directly at the center of Catherine's own chest. Every single admission resonated so deeply, yet all the Welsh woman could bring herself to do was offer a gentle, barely perceptible nod. A practical sort of glassiness settled like a protective haze over her dark brown eyes — the only outward sign of the storm raging just beneath the surface. "I — " She paused. "Yeah…" Her words fell almost like a whisper, as she swallowed the slight lump caught in her throat. "I do know," Catherine finally stated, her brow furrowing slightly, looking more… real. As though the longer she looked toward Cate, their eyes searching each other for what to say, that naked vulnerability hit, that unspoken pain. Catherine closed herself off briefly, letting out a quiet hum of a breath before she finally allowed herself to sit upon the edge of the bed. "I can't say it's been the easiest of situations, the easiest....room plan" Her eyes dropped, lingering upon her last word until they fell over Cate's again. "Quite the understatement, frankly." Her shoulders fell. "And I spent nearly two weeks in a psych clinic before this." A dry, breathless laugh slipped through her nose. It was a bitter joke she added, a shield to somehow mellow out these feelings slowly crashing in… feelings that were nowhere near as gentle as the waves outside their window.
But Catherine's aim to shield herself didn’t hold up long. Instead, her eyes flickered out toward the breeze briefly, as though she had caught herself—that tiny, heavy feeling growing within her chest like a physical weight. She pushed a strand of long black hair behind her ear, the silk of her sleeve whispering in the quiet. "It's not even just here." Her eyes met Cate's again, slightly more somber now, weighed down by the fact that the mere luxury of rest had felt entirely impossible as of late. As of now. "Strangers," Catherine eventually repeated. The word left her tongue with a slow, acknowledging sense of dread — a sharp, quiet ache at the realization that that was exactly what they were. "I don't hate you" The words left her lips suddenly, as though her brief silence had forced a private thought out loud — except it wasn't accidental. It was the absolute truth, cutting straight through the wreckage of everything they had done to one another. After the venom they’d spat, after the physical and mental scars they had so viciously inflicted, they should have been enemies. But they weren't. Not after the way Cate had cast all that wreckage aside just to pull her back from the edge of that terrifying night. How all of this wreckage couldn’t even hold a candle to sharing a room. There was a moment where she parted her lips again, as though to say something more, but nothing released. Until it did. "I... I don't know what else to say right now without feeling as though this room is about to cave in."She shook her head quickly, stopping herself before she could unravel any further. Catherine didn’t even know why she had said those words — why she would willingly sabotage the safety of that harrowing awkwardness. But she had. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, the sudden downfall of armor, yet Catherine had somehow managed to design a brand of torture far more exquisite than the stoic silence, the cold physical pain she’d been putting herself through: telling someone she once loved... exactly how she was actually feeling.

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While the cocktails that Cate had drunk at the bar near one of the resort’s main pools hadn’t been enough to completely silence her emotions or make her lose consciousness, they had been enough to make her loose, at least a little bit, especially to numb for a while that constant pressure tightening in her chest. Sometimes, Cate felt like she was going to end up sick from overthinking that much, from feeling too much. She was exhausted. There wasn’t a single moment in the day when she didn’t think about and overanalyze what had happened between her and Catherine, about what could have been and never was, about why they had chosen to hurt each other, about why Cate had felt so much doubt, so much jealousy, so much insecurity, about why she had decided to hide her for so long instead of showing the world that she was the one occupying her heart, her soul, her body entirely. Maybe that way, no one else would have gotten between them. But it all seemed far too late for that now, and yet fate and perhaps some distracted god insisted on placing them in the same path. And made Cate glancing at her from the distance for most of the day and even watch her body laying on a bed resting at the end of every night.
Cate was relaxed, it seemed like the alcohol had done her good. Her face and shoulders, kissed by the sun, looked even more flushed from the effect of the drinks, her lips pink, her hair wavy from Cancun’s humidity and her dress carrying the scent of the sea, the breeze and her favorite perfume. Everything could be perfect… except for having to be alone with Catherine and not being able to open up to her, tell her about her day, about her emotions, being unable to touch her and kiss her, to laugh with her until she almost wet her underwear. None of that was possible. It was the complete opposite....around her, Cate felt insecure, like she was walking on eggshells just to avoid ruining something, to avoid hurting or provoking her and, above all, to avoid discovering something that could destroy her emotionally even more than she already was. “I’m so sorry,” Cate said as she walked toward the couch at the back of the room as if she had purposely chosen the farthest place, away from the vanity where Catherine was. “I swear I thought you wouldn’t be here… we both had the same idea about wanting to be alone. Once again, we failed,” she said with a faint smile while struggling with the straps of her shoes, though now from a far more comfortable place.
“Yeah… I think I’m staying in… my social battery ran out for today. I need a bath… and sleep… lots of sleep,” she assured her because the truth was that she had barely rested during that trip. Contrary to what Catherine probably believed, Cate was good at pretending to be asleep while Catherine settled in every night and eventually drifted off, and only then could Cate leave the bed, step out onto the balcony to read, rehearse her lines for her new play and simply think while the sound of the waves tried to drown out her most destructive and painful thoughts as she remained painfully aware that the woman she loved was sleeping only a few feet away from her. “I thought you’d go to one of the parties or gatherings tonight,” she finally said after freeing one of her shoes. “I heard several people are going to one of the beach clubs… I’m too old for that,” she added with another smile, something new in the dynamic between them. “I don’t want to ruin anyone’s party, so I came back to sleep,” she said as she slipped off the other shoe and stood up, walking barefoot around the room searching for comfortable clothes. “Did you have dinner?” she asked. Again, the alcohol gave her enough courage and confidence to keep the conversation going. “I tried the paella and it was delicious… but I ended up ordering a sushi roll… with guacamole. Exotic mix of cultures… but delicious,” she assured while moving gracefully and elegantly around the room, grabbing her robe, tying her hair into a messy bun and doing all those little things to stop herself from freezing under Catherine’s presence like she always did. “If you haven’t eaten, you can order room service… I ordered some last night and they were fast. Doesn’t being by the ocean make you hungrier? Or is it all the bullshit activities they’ve been forcing us to do here?” again, Cate talked, she didn't ran away, maybe she was not crossing glances with her but she was more talkative, less shy and she was not trying to avoid at all cost but what else she could do? judging by Catherine's robe, she was not planning to leave the suite that night, and she was too tired and tipsy to leave it and go somewhere to wait until catherine fell asleep. her options? just keep it chill, ad hoping one of them would go to bed first so they didn't have to share more than the necessary... it was already too much being at the same place, at the same time and observing one another spending time and having fun with different people, in another world, or time, they would be together having the best time and not able to keep their hands off each other.
For a fleeting, perilous second, a ghost of a smile tugged at Catherine’s lips. There was a sweet, desperate earnestness to Cate’s alcohol-infused rambling — a lingering trace of the old charm that Catherine knew far too well. But the warmth vanished as quickly as it came, suffocated by the brutal weight of reality pressing down beneath the surface. Catherine caught herself. She pulled her elbow off the back of the chair, straightening her spine with a rigid discipline that felt more like armor than posture—an armor that was far weaker in this moment than she even fully processed yet. The humidity clinging to the room was torturous, but it was nothing compared to the suffocating, awkward silence they had allowed to settle between them. It felt like a heavy, unseen garment—just another miserable, extra layer Catherine desperately wanted to strip away, yet was entirely powerless to remove. Typical, she thought, a bitter, dark irony settling deep in her chest. Here she was, trapped in a tropical paradise, and she couldn’t even find a shred of comfort in the privacy of her own suite. "No, it’s... fine. Really. This is just as much your room as it is mine" The sharp edges of Catherine’s accent softened into a low, quiet murmur. For all the ridiculous discomfort between them, the truth was simple: they were just two exhausted people wanting to escape the suffocating glare of that sun-drenched evening. They were both dying to defuse — to finally peel off the heavy masks they’d been hiding behind all day. It felt like being trapped in a windowless room, or a stalled elevator. Yet, she knew she wasn't a prisoner. She had the choice to walk out that door, and so did Cate. And that... was the only real piece of control Catherine had left to cling to. She was choosing to stay in the room with a stranger who knew her soul.
Catherine walked over to her bed—thankful, at least, that the suite provided separate beds. It was a tiny, pathetic relief in an already painful situation. Her eyes caught Cate’s again, and for once, a breathless little laugh escaped her. It was quiet, but it was there. You and me both-," she murmured, catching herself just in time, swallowing the automatic darling before she could utter the pet name they had long since disposed of. Her hands busied themselves, fixing the edge of her sheets as she smoothed over the slip. "I prefer my beach with a little less noise. And my evenings with far more beautyrest." Her answers were brief, a sharp contrast to Cate’s tipsy rambling, yet this was the lightest conversation they’d shared in a very long time. There it was again — that tiny smile wanting to tug harder at her lips. But she couldn’t. Smiling only made her chest ache, lasting a mere millisecond before the reality of everything seeped back in. God, how she wished she were on that same, numb, tipsy level as Cate right now. Then she saw it: a flicker of playful light in the other woman’s eyes. Just for a moment, Cate's questions held a familiar warmth. A genuine care. It held the ghost of how things used to be — a glimpse of the love buried beneath the ash of everything they had destroyed. It was haunting, but god, it was a look Catherine had missed so dearly. "I... haven’t eaten, no," Catherine eventually answered, a half-forced grin appearing as her eyes landed back on Cate, on the woman naturally getting comfortable. "It seems I’ve been feeling quite the opposite. Just... not as hungry in this heat."
It felt like a lie. In truth, the sharp peak of anxiety in her chest was the real reason she wanted to hide under the covers for the rest of the night, why food was the last thing on her mind. But seeing the look in Cate's eyes, Catherine didn’t want to shed any worry."But... perhaps maybe I'll order room service later," she added with a slight shrug, finally sitting down on the edge of the bed she’d just fixed. As the Welsh woman sat, looking up at the hyper-focused, beautifully awkward blonde standing across from her, a sudden panic hit her. She didn’t want that suffocating silence to fall over them again. Clearing her throat, Catherine's lips parted. "I'm sensing you had a good evening though... yes ? " Maybe it was just her wanting to fill the silence. Or maybe she had a genuine urge to feel somewhat normal in the situation handed to them—this completely batshit situation. Catherine was utterly exhausted by the rigid small talk, but no part of her wanted it to simmer away. Her curiosity peaked, and she let herself cross the room toward the mini-bar, pulling out a bottle of water. As she twisted the lid open, entirely focused on the task, she became acutely aware of how much closer they had gotten. The air between them grew thick, charged with a history that refused to stay buried. With a tight, apologetic nod of acknowledgment, Catherine bluntly asked, "Have you been able to sleep ?" In this oppressive heat, it seemed like an obvious thing to ask. Yet, the moment those words abruptly left her lips, the heavy, unspoken weight underneath them hung suspended in the air—because they both knew she wasn't asking about the temperature.
Don’t apologize. We’re here now. Tell me what’s going on? Start from the beginning. God, no. You’re not rooming with her. Do you need to crash with Pedro and I?
PRIVATE: It's like an ongoing headache trying to...piece it all together. But, things had been good. Really good, cara mia. Until a couple months back, it was around easter. I'd mentioned about coming to visit during her daughters birthday and she just told me it was something small, so not to bother changing my schedule . You know, just her and the kids. Something i understood completely. Until, well, it was far more than just "something small" and at first it was so silly. I thought i was overreacting. But that wasn’t the first time. And it hurt, billie. I went from feeling as though things were progressing so intensely... to me feeling like i was completely hung out to dry. Like this wasn’t serious to her. I was just her casual stop, from a woman I loved. Which, any healthy partner would communicate that. Well, about two weeks later she came to visit me on the wednesday set and things just...blew up. She'd gotten jealous over something that wasn’t even happening. But i didn’t defuse it, billie. I used it against her. She hurt me so i hurt her. I just...i'd let myself completely sabotage everything we were building and i utterly hated her for it. I did things and said things i wish i hadn’t. But we both did. And then she left. It was over, i didn’t ever wanna see her face again. And then i did, at that devil wears prada premiere. Oh billie...i need to be very clear before i tell you the rest of this story, i'm okay now and i really didn’t wanna worry you when i know it's not an easy subject. But that night i'd done a very stupid thing... i'd been on new medication and i drank far far too much, because i couldn’t stand that she was in that room. And low and behold, the one person i didn’t wanna see up close again was also the one person who selflessly after everything got me out of the place without wandering eyes and home safe because i couldn’t do anything, it was the first time in a very very long time i'd put myself in such dangerously idiotic position. She got someone to check up on me and well... i didn’t like the person i was that night or recently. I didn’t remember much, so the morning after i got situated somewhere and took a few day away, to just, get some help. Just to rest my head. I'd eventually messaged her, told her i didn’t just...disappear, that i wasn’t a complete monster. And now we're here. It's been awkward. It's like i'm holding my breath because there's a stranger sleeping across from me. And darling, i love you...i love you more than my heart can beat, but i wouldn’t even think about crashing with you and pedro. I wouldn’t wanna be the reason i take away the little time we have left here... I'll survive. And if i don't ? then i take back what i just said and I'll come knock at your door. I just, i know this is a lot of information and i don't expect you to say much, but i just need a close friend right now. I just also didn’t want you to keep worrying, even if this doesn’t at all help that.
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@/catherinezetajones: easy like a monday morning 💋🌴
I have a certain weakness for ladies with that level of confidence, determination, and power. You’ve always been that kind of woman. I have the feeling that if I had stayed, I would have been fucked because I fall in love easily.... ask the last five or different boyfriends I’ve had in a short amount of time. And you had that thing… I don’t know how to explain it. So when I felt there was danger, I ran to hide. But sweet Lord, you really left a lasting impression on me. I still fangirl over you every time I see you on screen. I’m such a sucker for your character. Anywho… do you and Michael still have that agreement? Or is it true that you’re divorced? DeuxMoi said you were getting divorced, but I don’t know what to believe anymore… and I would never ignore you. Who could do that? I could bring some tequila sunrises to wherever you are, just to show you that I’m really okay with you, with the past, and I don’t know… just to show you how much I still admire and respect you.
You sweet, dangerous creature. You’ve always tried to charm me with your words, but please, don’t be too modest, darling. I didn’t just go around inviting every young, beautiful woman into our world. You were the one who caught my eye the most. Really, it was terribly hard not to notice you... you had this exquisite mix of confidence and determination that I simply couldn't resist too. But I do think it was best for everyone involved that we cut things loose when we did, ma chérie. Yes, we were all grown, but you were still so young. It was never meant to be anything more than what it was — even if the heart doesn't always play by the rules, it's the risk with these things. That being said... if these five boyfriends of yours couldn’t handle you, it is entirely their loss. There will always be an unfortunate few fools on the road ahead. From the brief time we shared, I saw that magnificent spark in you, and I know you are never a woman who would let anyone dampen it, especially not a man. I certainly wouldn’t tolerate seeing anyone try, so good riddance to them all. Still, I am forever flattered that I left such an impression on you. Even if it did come with a tad of annoyance at the time! But as I said, it’s all in the past, and I truly adore getting to see you again — as breathtakingly gorgeous as ever. And who knows ? Perhaps you'll find a way to step out from behind that screen, stop 'fangirling,' and I’ll finally get to see those talents of yours up close. With me right there beside you. As for Michael ? That agreement is long gone, darling. Whatever that god-awful DeuxMoi site is whispering, it’s a divorce and another breakup behind in news. Michael and I are still very much in touch, very close, but... I am a lone cat now.So, a reunion over Tequila Sunrises ? Consider it a firm plan, my sweet eiza. I expect you to tell me absolutely everything you’ve been up to.
If only things could be different, Cate would probably be enjoying this trip a whole lot more. But that was practically impossible when, by some cruel twist of fate, the famous actress had to share a room with the woman who had suddenly gone from being her lover, to her enemy, and now basically a stranger. Maybe because some naive person still thought Catherine and Cate were inseparable, and now they had to share a room. Funny how life works. From being so close, passionate, and having the best sex, the most delicious conversations, the deepest confessions... now they avoided each other. All the time. Cate trying not to run into her, pretending to be asleep at the end of every day so there wouldn’t even be a need to look at her. She didn’t want to risk either of their peace of mind, especially Catherine’s after everything that had happened. Cate felt like she had already hurt her too much without even meaning to, and she couldn’t feel more vulnerable with anyone the way she did with Catherine. That’s why the awkward silences, the brief words almost whispered between them, were for the best. Even if seeing her around the resort every now and then with other people, looking spectacular and so much better, made Cate feel such a constant rush of emotion that she almost got dizzy every time they crossed paths.
That night, Cate had spent time with some friends and some strangers who also became friends that same night, dancing, drinking, and being herself again. Funny, playful, a little dirty in the most elegant possible way... she was tired of being sad, tired of being bitter over someone who probably never loved her the same way. The extra drinks, the Cancún heat, the intensity of the moment made her feel like herself again, and god, it felt good.
At the hotel lobby, Cate checked the time. According to the routine she had practically memorized between Catherine and herself over the past few days, Catherine should still be out, it was still early, so she could go to the room, freshen up, drink some tea and let the alcohol leave her system so she could sleep. As she got on the elevator, feeling slightly dizzy but in a really good mood, the blonde hummed a song while entering the room, a little clumsy and making a bit more noise than usual, confident she would be alone like always whenever she walked into that room before 9 pm. While taking off the necklace she was wearing and sliding down the strap of her dress absentmindedly as she kept humming, she froze when she saw Catherine right there. As quickly as she had started lowering the strap, she slid it back up again. “Sorry… I didn’t know you were here,” she said trying not to actually laugh. “It’s early,” she added, referring to the hour Catherine usually came back to the room and to something Cate had decided not to think too much about and wonder the reason why. “Sorry,” she apologized again while leaning down with some difficulty to untie the laces of her beautiful shoes, her purse tucked awkwardly under her arm. “Shhhh,” she whispered to herself while struggling with the laces. “Are you staying or are you heading out?” Maybe that was the first real question Cate had asked Catherine, or the first thing beyond a simple hello and goodnight during the entire trip.
@cathzejones
It felt like the universe's final, spiteful little kick — a sharp, stinging blow to both gut and pride the exact moment Catherine discovered the room mix-up. The frantic, arrival-induced panic of realizing nothing could be changed so last minute dissolved quickly into a mutual, exhausted surrender. It simply wasn’t worth the strain. Not when it was so painfully obvious that they both needed this reprieve. Separately. Naturally, they did. Catherine hadn’t so much as looked at Cate since that night when everything twisted so spectacularly out of hand. They hadn't spoken until days later, when Catherine finally checked out of the clinic and deigned to let the blonde know she was, in fact, still breathing.This — sharing a singular, inescapable space—was the absolute last purgatory the Welsh Women expected to find herself in. And yet, here they were. The first night had descended like a lethal dawn of awkwardness. They were two people with an absolute deluge of heaviness hanging over their heads, choosing instead to sweep the debris under a temporary rug just to maintain a fragile, civilized veneer. But then, an eerie sort of "flow" took over. A quiet choreography of anticipating the other’s routine. Knowing the exact cadence of a movement. Knowing precisely how to avoid acknowledging the utter carnage happening internally, so long as they could evade one another outside the confines of those four walls. She kept strictly to herself, drowning her thoughts in the distraction of the tide, finding a safe, predictable solace in the occasional cocktail. But still… she would catch the silhouette of the blonde out of the corner of her eye. Those fleeting, accidental glances that carried a suffocating weight, of a woman who saw her at her worst. But who'd selflessly helped her just as much. That's why it made it all so much harder for catherine. For how much she cared for this woman. How much she loved her. For how much she'd stomped those feelings down long with the blood between her fingernails, far before her stupidity took over that night of the premiere. And It wasn’t hatred. It never was. It was something far more intense, far more treacherous. A mutual, unspoken knowing of every single thing that had fractured between them. A leaden ache that coiled tight in her stomach the second she let her guard down. It truly was a deliciously sick joke that tragedy was demanding to be played out in a place as blindingly bright as Cancún.
The evening heat was downright oppressive, prompting Catherine to retreat to the hotel room hours earlier than she usually did. But the moment she crossed the threshold, a sudden, heavy dread settled over her chest. It felt exactly like a ghost that had been stalking her footsteps down the beach all week, finally cornering her in the dark.After all, tomorrow is another day she reasoned softly. Perhaps the isolation of the room would allow her to endure what nights they had left. Slowly, she let the heavy fabric of her evening dress slip to the floor, stepping out of it and into a black silk set that felt like a second skin. From the balcony, the distant murmur of ocean waves and stray laughter drifted in. It was beautifully, agonizingly peaceful. She took her seat at the vanity mirror, her fingers tracing a rich cream over her skin with slow, practiced strokes. Then, the door handle turned. Abruptly. Catherine didn't startle. She simply paused, her dark eyes narrowing slightly in the glass, before she rose with an elegant composure to face the blonde. Cate was a different creature tonight. The rigid walls she usually kept high were completely gone, replaced by a very obvious, loose-limbed intoxication. Good for her, Catherine thought, watching her. Truly. She observed the silhouette before her — the clumsy, desperate little struggle Cate was having with her laces. Under any other circumstances, the sheer absurdity of it would have made Catherine smile. But there was no room for laughter here. "I'm staying in," Catherine murmured, her voice dropping into a low, quiet register. "I wasn’t quite up for the late festivities. I merely assumed I would have the room to myself for a while longer." The words didn't carry a sharp edge, nor were they meant as a wound. There was no venom in them. She was simply a woman who had genuinely expected a few hours of solitude to clear her mind — to banish that unwanted dark cloud from hanging over such a pristine paradise. It felt dreadfully unfair. But that was the thing about Catherine. As much as she possessed a natural flair for the dramatic, she absolutely despised playing the woe is me. It just seemed...that both woman were going against their calculated routine tonight.
"Are you... staying in too ?" Catherine finally asked. It felt like a stupidity obvious question to throw back at cate, but they were the only words able to leave her lips. Her dark eyes narrowed slightly, tracking the blonde’s movements with a careful, deliberate intensity. In the close air of the room, she felt a sudden sensation of suffocation—yet, perversely, she was almost willing to let it happen. There was a far worse fate, she realized, in standing directly in front of someone and having absolutely nothing left to say. This was a woman she had shared a bed with. A woman she had trusted with her deepest secrets. They had shared everything. And now, the raw, defensive armor they had both worn so carefully all week was entirely stripped away, leaving only the stark reality of two people who had managed to become total strangers. That, above all else, was the part that cut the deepest.

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We’re both here in Cancun. After this party let’s grab a late night bite and you can really tell me what’s going on with you and cate? You have me worried. @cathzejones
I'm sorry i disappeared after the party the other night, Cara mia...but that late night bite still sounds exactly what i need, i've missed you ! And just, everything's so complicated, heavy. I've just been in this....weird place. I don't even know where to start, but I might just even start with how our rooms got mixed up and we're rooming together. I know. I thought it couldn't get worse either, but apparently it's a running joke.
CATHERINE ZETA JONES attends the Xoximilco Party, Cancún, Mexico | Saturday 23rd May