Chapter Text
“…to begin,” Penelope smiled, lifting her brand-new handbag onto her lap as though it deserved its own introduction. “This is YSL’s burgundy bucket bag. I believe it’s from their new fall collection.”
Sometimes, moments like these still felt borrowed.
Only a year ago, she had been sitting behind a cramped desk at Danbury Publishing House, surviving on lukewarm coffee, impossible deadlines and manuscripts that belonged to everyone except her. She still remembered staring out of the office window during lunch breaks, wondering if she was foolish for wanting more, for wanting to write instead of spending her days polishing someone else’s stories.
Then she had quit.
It had been the most terrifying decision of her life.
Now she was sitting beneath warm studio lights, discussing her novel.
Her dream.
Her impossible, impossible dream.
Just because she was brave enough to do it.
It was enough to make her wonder if she had somehow wandered into somebody else's life.
Colin had definitely been her number one hype-man, forcing her to follow her dreams, just like once he had done the same.
“Super stylish indeed,” Samantha gushed.
Penelope had spent nearly three hours with the television host already, and to her surprise, she had enjoyed every minute. The interview had begun with an hour-long conversation about her debut romantic comedy, the runaway BookTok sensation of the summer of 2026. They had spoken about everything, from where the story came from to her writing process, her childhood, the gorgeous illustrated cover, upcoming signings, whispers of a world tour, and the endless stream of readers begging for a sequel before they'd even finished the first book.
Talking about the novel never felt like work.
It felt like introducing people to someone she loved.
Her baby.
Social media, however, had been an adjustment.
Her Instagram following had exploded from a little over five hundred people to one hundred thousand in barely two months. Every day brought glowing reviews, dramatic one-star critiques, fan edits of her characters, memes she barely understood and declarations that she had "ruined everyone's standards for men forever."
Teenagers seemed to inhale all 374 pages overnight before immediately demanding another book.
It was surreal.
Fame had never been something she chased. If anything, she had watched it happen from the front row.
To Colin.
Her best friend had built his travel page from absolutely nothing, one city, one camera and one questionable street-food recommendation at a time. Now over a million people followed his adventures around the world. It suited him. Colin had always been a people person. He had that effortless ability to make complete strangers feel like old friends within minutes.
Penelope, on the other hand, still rehearsed ordering coffee.
After the formal interview came a game segment, followed by Samantha's favourite part of every episode. The polished studio cameras were wheeled away, replaced by an ordinary iPhone perched on a tripod.
The red LIVE icon appeared. Comments immediately began racing up the screen.
“Right!” Samantha clapped excitedly. “Time for a good old What's In My Bag?”
“Oh dear.”
“Too late. We've committed.”
Penelope laughed despite herself. “I actually bought this,” she said, patting the burgundy handbag affectionately, “with my first proper royalty payment. Well... after my book sold out at Waterstones Piccadilly.”
“Oof!” Samantha pressed a hand dramatically against her chest. “Sold out at Waterstones Piccadilly. What a sentence. But don't stall, we're all here to snoop.”
“I swear,” Penelope laughed, “had I known this segment was happening, I would've cleaned my bag first.”
“And rob us of the chaos? Absolutely not. We want the authentic Penelope Featherington.”
“My readers are about to discover I'm significantly less organised than my protagonists.”
“They'll love you even more.”
“I certainly hope so.” Being loved by strangers was also something new. The positive comments surely gave her a weird type of high.
The redhead opened the flap and peered inside. “Aha. The very first thing I see... receipts.” She pulled out three crumpled takeaway receipts and held them up. “Very glamorous.”
Samantha burst into laughter. “So, what's been the obsession lately? Are we loyal to one place or constantly experimenting?”
“I am unfortunately a creature of habit,” Penelope admitted. “You all know my friend Colin—the travel content creator who somehow discovers every hidden restaurant before the rest of London does. Every time he's back from a trip, he insists on dragging me somewhere I've never heard of.”
“Dragging?”
“Strongly encouraging,” Penelope corrected with a grin. “About a month ago he convinced me to try a seafood boil.”
“And?”
“I thought it looked terrifying.”
“So did I.”
“But...” Penelope laughed at the memory. “It was amazing. Absolutely incredible.”
“So now?”
“So now I keep ordering takeaway from the same place.” She waved the receipts before placing them on the coffee table. “I'm not particularly brave when it comes to eating alone in restaurants.”
Samantha nodded knowingly. “I completely understand that. Some of us have not braved that battle yet."
“So takeaway it is.” Penelope reached into the bag again and produced her phone and wallet. “The essentials.”
“As required by law.”
“Exactly.”
She dug a little deeper before her fingers wrapped around something familiar. “Oh!”
A disposable camera appeared in her hand, and her smile came so naturally she didn't even notice it.
“Colin and I started this tradition years ago. Whenever he comes back from travelling, which is sometimes every three to six months, we each finish one disposable camera. Then we develop the photos and swap them.”
Samantha's expression softened. “Oh, I love that.”
“He's away so often,” Penelope said quietly. “This way we get to see all the little moments we'd otherwise miss. It feels... more special than scrolling through someone's camera roll.”
“A little old-school in the age of Snapchat, don't you think?"
“I know.” She laughed. “I suppose I always have been. But hey, we are artistic people here, we do things differently."
The comments began flying even faster.
Relationship goals.
That's actually adorable.
Protect them at all costs.
Thankfully, Penelope wasn't looking at the screen.
Next came her hairbrush.
“My mum's homemade hair oil,” she announced proudly. “I've been using it since I was twelve.”
“If it works, it works.”
“It apparently does.”
She placed it beside the brush before holding up another item.
“I also recently became a Neutrogena ambassador, so I've been carrying around their Vitamin C lip balm and this face cream.”
“Look at you!”
“Very official.”
Hair ties.
Tampons.
Mints.
Each item found its place on the coffee table.
“Oh!” She held up a tiny cardholder covered in illustrated kittens. “Eloise got me this from Vietnam five years ago.”
“I refuse to believe that's five years old.”
“Neither can I. I barely used it back then, but now it's permanently full of business cards.”
“The kittens are ridiculously cute.”
“They're my favourite part.”
“Speaking of Eloise...” Samantha leaned forward with unmistakable mischief dancing in her eyes. “Who is, of course, another Bridgerton...”
Penelope immediately narrowed her eyes. “I don't like where this is going.”
“You've practically grown up with the Bridgertons. They've all become incredibly successful in their own right, so tell us...” Samantha clasped her hands together dramatically. “Who are your top three from this fabulous family? Honestly, I am such a fan. I watch Daphne's street fashion all the time."
Penelope let out a horrified gasp. “Don't do this to me!”
Samantha dissolved into laughter as she glanced down at the phone. The live comments were moving so quickly they blurred together.
“Oh, this is brilliant. We've got twenty-three thousand people watching right now...” She scrolled a little further before grinning. “Daphne and Hyacinth are here. They both say hi.”
“Oh no.” Penelope buried her face in her hands. “Why are they watching this?”
“Because they knew I'd ask the important questions.”
“They're going to disown me.”
“We'll make it easier,” Samantha offered generously. “Let's remove Colin from the rankings. We all know he'd probably be number one.”
Penelope blinked. “That somehow makes it even harder.”
The audience were surely laughing.
After a long, dramatic sigh, she finally answered. “Fine. Eloise, obviously. Mama Violet...” She paused, already wincing. “...and Gregory and Hyacinth together.”
“You can't have four!”
“I absolutely can.”
“They're adults.”
“They're still the babies.” She pointed toward the camera. “And Daphne, if you're watching—which apparently you are—I love you too. Please don't send me a strongly worded text.”
Samantha laughed so hard she nearly dropped the phone. “I think you'll survive.”
“I sincerely hope so.”
“Back to the bag.”
“Right.” Penelope reached inside once more. “One lipstick. One clear lip gloss. Hand cream. My power bank...”
Finally, her fingers closed around something resting at the very bottom. Her smile arrived before the object did.
She held up a translucent pen. Tiny silver flecks floated around a miniature galaxy suspended inside the barrel, sparkling beneath the studio lights whenever she turned it.
“This is probably my favourite thing in here,” she admitted. “Colin actually brought it back for me from Germany.”
The words came out softer than she'd intended. She rolled it gently between her fingers.
“I know it's just a pen,” she said with a small laugh, “but little things like this fascinate me. I could stare at the tiny galaxy inside forever.”
“You could always buy another one once that one runs out.”
“I could,” Penelope replied, her thumb absentmindedly brushing over the smooth plastic, “but... it wouldn't be this one.”
For the briefest moment, Samantha simply watched her.
The unconscious smile.
The way she held the pen.
The softness in her voice whenever his name came up.
Then Samantha looked back at the flood of comments racing up the screen.
“Oh...” she murmured, a grin slowly spreading across her face. “Speaking of Colin...”
Penelope looked up.
“One of our viewers has a question.”
Something about Samantha's expression made Penelope instantly suspicious.
“What is it?”
Samantha tried—and failed—to suppress a laugh. “They want to know whether you've ever had romantic feelings for Colin.”
She squinted at the comment again before laughing outright. “They've also described him as...” She paused dramatically. “...'sex on a stick.'”
Penelope forgot how to breathe.
Oh boy.