Chapter Text
Dawn broke across the horizon.
A soft breeze stirred the ivory linen curtains draped across open archways of the villa, high above a secluded valley cloaked in green. The sun crept over the hills slow and golden, casting warm light across manicured lawns. A still-blue pool waited nearby, and stone pathways littered with fallen petals adorned the scenery.
Somewhere, a pair of bare feet - delicate, toes painted a glossy pink - moved quietly across those stone pathways. In a montage sequence, a champagne cork popped. A woman’s laugh rang out, low and flirtatious. Another woman, half-reclined on a velvet chaise, tilted her face upwards.
The Garden gradually seemed to come alive. It waited. It wanted.
As a soft string arrangement gave way to subtle electronic percussion, the morning gave light to snapshots of arrival.
A smooth hand zipped a suitcase with finality.
A car door shut with a decisive thud.
A woman, seated in the passenger seat of a black town car, exhaled into the side mirror and adjusted a single pearl earring.
A nervous chuckle sounded.
Luggage wheels rolled across cobblestone.
A voice - trembling, brave - whispered, “Am I really doing this?”
One by one, six women stepped into the Garden. Their entrances, staggered and cinematic. They came like Eve into the story - cautious, hungry, beautifully unaware.
And then came The Voice.
Smooth and unhurried, it floated alongside the displayed images. It was the kind of voice that knew more than it said. It belonged to the host - Livia.
“Welcome to Eve’s Garden ,” she said. “A place of beauty. Of pleasure. And of truth.”
Livia appeared in full view now, walking slowly down the stone, candle-lined path flanked by palm leaves. Her rose-gold pantsuit shimmered with each movement, tailored to perfection. Her heels clicked, a rhythmic metronome of control.
And then entered Amani, walking beside her. She was barefoot in a flowing white robe, her energy softer, a cool complement to Livia’s fire.
“Six women have arrived here in Eden,” Livia said, pausing at the edge of a stone landing. “Each of them in a loving, committed relationship - with men.”
Amani smiled mysteriously.
“But here,” she added. “Far from their routines, away from their partners…they’ll explore a question many of us have asked quietly, in the dark…”
“What if the love I’ve known,” Livia finished. "Isn’t the love I was meant for?”
Their voices echoed gently over the lush grounds, over the sea breeze brushing the cliffs. The camera lingered on each of the women as they arrived, their names unfurling across the screen - stamping their place amongst the Eve's Garden cast:
Cynthia , 31 – Voice Coach. Engaged to Maxwell. Thoughtful. Composed. Private.
Ariana , 24 – Veterinary Student. Dating Mitch. Bright. Flirty. Searching.
Sandy , 27 – Fitness Influencer. Dating Tony. Strategic. Bold. Unyielding.
Kayla , 25 – Kindergarten Teacher. Dating Tim. Curious. Cautious. Vulnerable.
Jada , 30 – Bartender. Long-term girlfriend of Miguel. Sultry. Chaotic. Protective.
Michelle, 29 – IT Specialist. Dating Tyler. Witty. Observant. Unapologetic.
They passed through the Garden’s gates - each one casting one last look behind them, or none at all. One adjusted her lipstick. One removed her engagement ring. One smiled for the first time in weeks.
Livia’s voice returned, darker now, rich with anticipation.
“In this Garden, they’ll live with other women. Form friendships. Explore temptation. And meet five single women ready to show them something new.”
As she spoke, glimpses of the singles flickered like firelight.
Shakara, 32 – Contractor. Stud. Confident. Grounded. Ready. She turned mid-laugh, her low fade catching a glint of sun. The kind of woman who filled a room without trying.
Melanie, 25 – Baker. Femme. Flirty. Warm. Sweet. She winked over her shoulder from behind a bakery counter, sugar dust on her cheek and trouble in her eyes.
Stefanie, 27 – Bartender. Chaotic. Seductive. Wild. She danced in the dark, solo and savage, hips swaying like a dare.
Debbie Lynn, 24 – Equestrian Coach. Romantic. Gentle. Southern. She rode bareback across an open field, her hair streaming behind her like a banner, her smile full of promise.
Shana, 29 – Novelist. Butch. Wry. Sharp. Soft underneath. She sipped her tea, glasses low on her nose, smirking like a woman who already knew how this ended.
“Every week,” Amani said. "They’ll choose who they want to explore a connection with.”
“But their partners,” Livia warned. "Are still watching…from the Serpent’s Den . And if they win the right game…”
“They can interfere.”
The music swelled, a subtle thrum beneath the words now, like a pulse.
“Temptation will visit often,” Livia said. “But so will doubt. Passion. Confusion. Freedom. And maybe…just maybe…love.”
The screen went black. A white serif font emerged:
Eve’s Garden
Episode 1: In the Beginning
And just before the music faded, a woman’s voice, breathless and low, whispered into the silence:
“I think I want her.”
The Garden opened.
***
The first thing Cynthia noticed was how green everything was. Rich and alive and almost absurdly lush. Giant palm fronds waved lazily overhead, framing a clear blue sky. The breeze was humid but gentle, thick with the scent of hibiscus and salt. Beneath her feet was smooth stone warmed by the sun. And just ahead, a series of winding gravel paths cut through tropical foliage.
The women’s living quarters looked like something out of a luxury eco-resort: open-air bungalows with polished wooden floors and gauzy white curtains that billowed in the breeze. A central hangout area was tucked between the trees - sunken seating with ocean-colored cushions, a fire pit ringed by swings, and a freshwater pool carved into the stone. Lanterns hung from the branches above like low-hanging stars, though the sun was still high in the sky.
Cynthia could hear the soft splash of the pool nearby and the faint call of a bird she couldn't name. Somewhere behind her, there was a soft chime - one of the show’s sound cues, she'd already learned - but it didn’t distract her. She took it all in slowly, her platinum-blonde hair catching the sunlight, short against her scalp. Her muscled arms were relaxed at her sides, her expression neutral but alert.
CONFESSIONAL - CYNTHIA ERIVO
Cynthia sat on a plush velvet chair in the confessional room, back straight but soft in her posture. There was something soothing about her presence. Her aura was calm, but she commanded a sort of attention. She wore the same outfit from her arrival, but her sandals were off - her bare feet were tucked underneath her on the chair.
"Hi, my name is Cynthia Erivo. I’m 31 years old. I am a part-time voice coach and full-time dog mom. I have a Maltipoo and a Yorkie named Caleb and Gigi. They’re very cute, and I can’t live without them." She grinned - wide, disarming, deeply real. “Caleb gets jealous if I pet Gigi too long. He’ll climb into my lap and nudge my hand aggressively until I give him what he wants.”
She chuckled, then folded her hands on her knee.
“I actually met my fiancé, Maxwell, when he hired me to give him voice lessons. He was auditioning for a role on Broadway; he got the role. He was so excited that he took me out for dinner. We had a great time, and…we…kept having a great time. I’ve been seeing him for three years now. He asked me to marry him one year ago. I said yes, and I’m looking forward to being Mrs. Cynthia Erivo-Stanton.”
She paused - a beat. Her confidence never faded, but her voice took on a more thoughtful texture.
“That being said…I’ve always been attracted to women. I’ve never dated a woman, though, because…well, because of a lot of reasons. I’m African. I’m Catholic. And I’m the product of a heteronormative society. So there was just…a lot I had to sort through before I could even admit to myself that I had any interest in women.”
A shadow of something flickered in her eyes - a well of emotion, a long-held truth gently unearthed.
“By the time I admitted that to myself, I was already in a long-term relationship. And I figured…that ship had sailed. I never really got the chance to 'experiment,' as they say. And I would’ve been fine just leaving it alone because - like I said - I’m happy.”
Then she smiled again. Brighter this time. There was pride there.
“But Maxwell is actually the one who convinced me to come on this show. He said I’d be doing a disservice to myself if I didn’t explore that side of me. So…here I am. I’m going to give it a real shot, take it seriously. But…” Her smile softened, more wry. “I don’t really expect anything too crazy to happen. I very much intend to be walking down the aisle by the middle of next year.”
She gave the camera a little shrug - the ‘ we’ll see’ kind.
The sun had shifted just enough to dapple the walkways with shadow when a gentle chime sounded again - softer this time. Cynthia turned, squinting, toward a flowering archway that she hadn’t noticed until that moment.
A stone path unfurled beyond it, flanked on either side by columns wrapped in blooming vines. Beyond the arch, the foliage gave way to a circular stone clearing. Smooth, pale, ancient-looking - very thematic. At the center of it was a low pedestal made of white marble, carved with fig leaves and something that looked suspiciously like a coiled serpent.
She tilted her head. “Okay…” she murmured, already walking. “This feels a little too on the nose .”
She stepped into the clearing, and the second her foot hit the center stone, there was a crackle of static.
A voice - warm, low, and unmistakably female - echoed down from the canopy above. Besides the previous static, it didn’t sound like a PA system (even though that had to be what it was). It sounded like it came from the trees themselves.
“ Welcome, Cynthia, ” the voice said.
Cynthia froze.
Then she laughed.
It was impressive, a little eerie...and she felt giddy from trying something new. It all felt just surreal enough to be funny. She looked up at the palm-fringed sky.
“Oh my God,” she called, grinning. “This is so freaky. What have I gotten myself into?”
CONFESSIONAL – CYNTHIA ERIVO
Cynthia held her face in her hands for a moment, trying not to burst out laughing.
“Listen,” she said, sitting upright again, still grinning. "When I heard that voice, I thought God had come to collect me. I thought, ‘This is it. I have been judged, and I've been found lacking.’”
She adjusted her posture and leaned one elbow on the arm of the confessional chair, her tone conspiratorial.
“Oh, and can we talk about that voice? Like, seductive. I don’t know what I expected from Eve’s Garden, but I didn’t expect a sexy voice from the sky.”
Then she pointed toward the camera. “Also, let the record show: I know how this story ends. Eve eats the fruit, everything goes left. So I’m watching myself.”
She held up her fingers in a mock V shape and turned them toward her eyes. “Watching myself.”
Back in the clearing, the voice spoke again.
“Before you are revealed your match, you must answer some questions from the Garden. The answers you give will shape your journey. You may not change them once they are spoken.”
“Okay,” Cynthia said aloud, drawing her shoulders back. “Hit me.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then:
“Which of the seven sins do you find most difficult to forgive in a partner? Pride. Greed. Lust. Envy. Gluttony. Wrath. Sloth.”
Cynthia blinked. “You all aren’t playing around,” she whispered.
She paused to think.
“Hmm,” she murmured. “Okay. So pride can be annoying, but sometimes it’s earned. Lust…honestly, I’m an adult. Lust is very welcome. Gluttony? That’s just Thanksgiving.” She laughed a little to herself. “But wrath…” Her voice quieted. “I don’t like rage. I’ve seen what that can do to people.”
She nodded as she made her decision. “Wrath. That’s my answer.”
“Answer recorded,” the voice said.
Cynthia took a small step back, shaking her hands out like she was trying to rid them of nerves.
CONFESSIONAL – CYNTHIA ERIVO
“I didn’t expect to be hit with the seven deadly sins before I’d even unpacked my bags,” Cynthia said, one brow raised, legs crossed loosely beneath her in the chair. She tilted her head. “But I kinda love it? Like, the drama of it all? This is divine matchmaking. Biblical fantasy meets The Bachelorette. ”
She laughed again, then nodded toward the off-camera crew. “Also, let it be known that I’m taking this seriously. Like…I came here with an open mind. So if the Garden’s got a plan? I’m listening.”
Back in the clearing, she was asked another question.
“What quality would you most want your partner to bring out in you? Confidence. Joy. Ambition. Stillness. Curiosity. Sensuality. Loyalty.”
Cynthia frowned thoughtfully, brushing her thumb across her lips. There was a beat of silence.
After a moment, she said quietly, “Joy. I can be a bit serious sometimes, and I’d love for my partner to be there to kind of…lighten the mood when I get too in my head.”
The game continued. She answered three more questions that would supposedly lead her to getting paired with someone. And as she finished the game, she wondered who else might be walking this same path.
***
From somewhere just past the grove of papaya trees, a soft crunch of sandals on stone announced the arrival of another woman.
Sandy Newton stepped through the foliage with a regal gait. She was tall - five-foot-nine, barefoot, five-eleven in the delicate white heels she’d opted for - and built like a dancer who hadn’t missed a stretch class in ten years. Her rich brown skin gleamed beneath the gauzy sunlight, and her long jet-black box braids were swept over one shoulder in a thick, silken rope.
She wore a two-piece set in deep plum: a flowing linen crop top that tied in the back, leaving her toned midriff bare, and a matching wrap skirt that revealed just a sliver of thigh as she moved. Gold cuffs hugged each wrist, catching the light, and a ring sat on every finger, all different but perfectly coordinated. She looked like she belonged here - ethereal.
Cynthia, still lingering at the edge of the clearing after her round of divine Q&A, turned when she heard the steps. Her eyebrows lifted. A small smile tugged at her mouth.
“Well damn,” Cynthia said, low and admiring, arms folded. “They really said: ‘send in the goddess.’”
Sandy laughed, voice warm and amused. “And they said send in the voice of an angel,” she shot back, lifting a brow as she reached her. “You are?”
“Cynthia,” Cynthia replied, and extended her hand. Sandy took it - firm shake, soft palms. “I’m guessing you’re not one of the camera crew.”
“Wouldn’t know where to point the lens,” Sandy said. “But I’m happy to be in the shot.”
They shared a brief but knowing smile - the kind women exchanged in unfamiliar spaces, acknowledging both the strangeness and the silent agreement to navigate it together.
Cynthia stepped aside, giving Sandy a small nudge with her elbow. “All yours,” she murmured, gesturing toward the marble pedestal. “Just be warned…she talks.”
Sandy tilted her head, amused. “She?”
“You’ll see.”
Cynthia backed up, leaving Sandy in the clearing.
The voice returned.
“Welcome, Sandy.”
Sandy raised both brows, looked upward. Her expression said everything: ‘ Okay, wow. This is really happening.’
CONFESSIONAL – SANDY NEWTON
Sandy sat with her long legs tucked beneath her on the plush chaise, a picture of ease and poise. One hand toyed with a braid while the other rested lightly on the armrest, fingers clinking softly against her stack of rings.
“Hi. My name is Sandy Newton,” she began, flashing a beatific smile at the camera. “I’m twenty-six. I’m a yoga instructor, part-time holistic esthetician, and I am currently in a relationship with my very lovely, very talkative boyfriend, Tony Kitt.”
She paused, smile turning wry.
“We’ve been together for one year. We’re in an open relationship…or I guess I should say, we’ve been trying to be. Tony’s very pro-polyamory. Long-term, he wants multiple partners. One main, a few satellite hearts orbiting the sun, that kind of thing.”
Her tone was light, but something flickered beneath it - something more careful.
“I’ve mostly just…gone along with it. He’s never asked me to do anything I wasn’t comfortable with. But I’ve also never dated a woman. Never even kissed one. And if I agree to this long-term polyamory thing, I very much want to be an active part in whatever relationships my partner and I have with other people. But…I don’t even know if I’m into women like that. I’ve started to wonder if I’ve been agreeing to a future that doesn’t include anything I want.”
Sandy exhaled, thoughtful now.
“So when this opportunity came up - ‘ Eve’s Garden ,’ a place to explore same-sex connections in a controlled, intentional space - I asked myself, what would it hurt? To just try? To ask myself if I’m as open as I would need to be to have a serious relationship with Tony.”
She grinned, eyes glinting again with that innate charm.
“Best-case scenario, I find a girlfriend here to bring back home to be our third. Worst-case scenario, I find out I’m a fake lesbian who gets scared when a real lesbian comes at them and I realize I have to completely erase my current relationship and start all over from scratch.” She smiled, tightness apparent around her eyes. “No pressure.”
Sandy tilted her head as the voice resumed - no visible source, no fanfare, just that calm, curious tone emerging from somewhere above and everywhere at once. The questions were playful, flirtatious even - as they were before. “ Which of the seven deadly sins could you not handle in a partner?” it asked, and Sandy let out a laugh.
“Sloth,” she said immediately. “Can’t do lazy. If you’re gonna love me, I need effort, baby.”
Next: “What’s a quality you’d want your perfect match to bring out in you?”
Sandy grinned, biting her bottom lip. “Hmm. My softer side, I guess. Not everyone deserves to see it - but maybe she would.”
There were a few more like that. Fun, breezy, laced with just enough suggestion to get the mind working. She answered them all with a little swish of her hip and that same confident smirk. When the voice finally fell silent, she nodded once like she’d just finished an audition she knew she’d booked.
“Nailed it,” she muttered, stepping off to the side.
A moment later, another figure emerged from the trees, smaller and slower than the others before her, like she was taking it all in before fully committing to entering. Kayla Siegel wasn’t flashy, but there was something striking about her all the same - an honesty in the way she moved, as if she wasn’t trying to be anything but herself, even if she wasn’t entirely sure who that was. She had fair skin kissed slightly pink by the sun and soft waves of strawberry blonde hair that caught gold in the light. Her sundress was short and airy, the color of fresh mint, with thin straps and a subtle sweetheart neckline that left her shoulders bare. It clung at the waist and fluttered high on her thighs, suggesting she'd tried on more than one thing that morning and landed on this because it felt just cute enough without trying too hard. A single opal necklace lay against her collarbone, and her nails were painted pale blue, chipped at the edges. She looked as if she had packed last-minute, overthought everything, and then shrugged.
Cynthia gave her a once-over. Sandy smiled warmly and said nothing, letting Kayla find her way to the pedestal without interruption.
Kayla paused in front of it, already looking a little overwhelmed, but before she could speak, the voice spoke first.
“Welcome, Kayla.”
Her head snapped up. “Jesus Christ,” she breathed, then immediately winced. “Sorry. Just…wasn’t ready.”
The voice continued. “Pick one: picnic on the beach or skinny dipping in a hot spring?”
Kayla blinked. “Oh. Um...beach picnic. Unless there are jellyfish. Then hot spring.”
“What kind of first kiss gives you chills?” it asked next. “Slow and teasing, or surprise and fire?”
Kayla flushed, biting her lip as she answered. “Uhh...surprise and fire. Definitely. I think.”
Cynthia exchanged a look with Sandy, who murmured, “Oh, she’s not playing around.”
And then the voice quieted again, leaving Kayla standing there, flushed and blinking, her dress rustling gently in the breeze.
CONFESSIONAL – KAYLA SIEGEL
Kayla sat cross-legged on the white chaise, ankles tucked beneath her, arms loosely hugging a pillow against her chest like she needed something to hold. Her dress rode up a little higher than she meant it to, but she didn’t adjust it. She looked directly into the camera, almost startled by her own presence.
“Hi. I’m Kayla Siegel. I’m twenty-five. I’ve been with my boyfriend, Tim, for three years. We met freshman year of college. We...uh. We’ve always had issues with intimacy. Sexually, I mean.”
She laughed once - short, embarrassed. “He thinks it’s just a compatibility thing. Or stress. But I think it might be because I’m a lesbian. And I’ve never actually let myself say that out loud until just now. So, great start.”
She let out a breath, brushing hair back from her cheek.
“I don’t know for sure, and I didn’t want to blow up my whole life without knowing. So I’m here. To test the theory. To see if it’s not just in my head. Or in my body. Or both. Whatever this is...I guess I’m hoping for clarity. And maybe some courage.”
She smiled - awkward, sincere, endearing.
“And if I have a breakdown on camera, just…be ready for it.”
The sound of soft sandals over stone pulled Sandy and Cynthia’s attention back to the path. The next woman to emerge bounced in on the balls of her feet. There was something almost unfairly charming about the way she moved: light, posture perfect, with a sway to her hips. It was easy to tell that she naturally pulled attention.
Ariana wore a lavender matching set that toed the line between sweet and sultry. The crop top was ribbed and sleeveless with a high neck, fitted perfectly over her petite frame, while the matching mini skirt hugged her curves and stopped just shy of indecent when she walked. Her platform sandals gave her an inch or two of height, and around her wrist was a pink scrunchie that didn’t match anything but still looked intentional. Her long, dark brunette hair was styled half-up, half-down with the upper half slicked into a high, bouncy ponytail while the rest fell sleek down her back. A few soft strands framed her face, and her makeup was sun-kissed perfection, glowy in all the right places, with a tiny sparkle at the inner corner of each eye.
Kayla blinked slowly. Sandy made a soft humming sound. Neither of them spoke.
Ariana gave everyone a little wave, her smile the kind that turned quickly into a grin if someone smiled back. “Hey,” she said casually, already halfway to the pedestal like this was the most natural thing in the world. “This is so weirdly gorgeous.”
The voice returned just as she stepped into place. “Welcome, Ariana.”
She clasped her hands in front of her, seemingly thrumming with excited anticipation for whatever came next. “Thank you, disembodied woman in the sky,” she said, biting back a smile.
The first question came. “Would you rather fall in love on a mountaintop or a dance floor?”
Ariana wrinkled her nose. “Mountaintop. Because then, if it didn’t work out, I could just…” She mimed jumping off the edge of a cliff before she realized she probably shouldn’t be making suicide jokes on national TV, and she winced. “I probably shouldn’t- I’m sorry. I was just kidding. Just kidding. I promise.” She chuckled. “Moving on!”
There was a soft chuckle from Sandy. Cynthia smiled without realizing.
“Your perfect partner gets you a pet as a surprise. What is it?”
Her eyes widened. “Oh my God. A baby goat. No hesitation. I’d cry. And then we’d have a farm together. It’d be a whole thing.”
The voice moved on. Ariana’s answers came quick, funny, but not careless (not after the suicide joke). There was heart behind every little quip. By the time the final question rolled around - “Which would you rather share with a partner: a toothbrush, or a secret identity?” - Ariana just laughed and said, “Easy. Secret identity. But I will steal her toothbrush and deny it.”
As the voice quieted, she looked up at the sky with mock suspicion. “You’re like...not watching me sleep later, right?”
Then she gave a tiny bow, stepped aside, and blew a kiss to the sky.
Cynthia watched her, lips twitching into a barely concealed smile. Sandy murmured, “She seems fun.” Cynthia nodded in agreement.
CONFESSIONAL – ARIANA GRANDE
Ariana lounged sideways on the white chaise, one knee bent, her chin propped in her palm. She smiled into the camera.
“Hi. I’m Ariana Grande. I’m 24. I’m in vet school, which means I smell like a different kind of pee every week but also get to save baby animals, so. Worth it.”
She twirled a bit of her ponytail, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
“I’ve been with my boyfriend, Mitch, for six months. We were friends for a year before that. He’s great - like, golden retriever energy. Loyal, cute, a little clingy when he drinks.” A pause. “He wants to get serious, like house-and-a-mortgage serious, and I want to want that. I really do.”
She made a face, somewhere between guilty and conflicted.
“I’ve hooked up with women before. But I’ve never dated one. And there’s this little voice in my head that’s like...what if you’re locking the door before you’ve even peeked into the next room? So. Here I am. Peeking.”
She shrugged, then cracked a smirk.
“If it goes terribly, I’ll adopt a goat and move to Vermont. If it goes great...well. Let’s just say I didn’t pack a single bra, and I think the universe rewards that kind of optimism.”
She winked and put another smile on.
The warm air carried the scent of something sweet and floral as the next woman appeared at the edge of the Garden. Jada Rivera stepped boldly onto the stone path. She moved with all the confidence of a woman who knew exactly how fine she looked and didn’t care who noticed. No hesitation, no nerves - just hips, heels, and a heatwave of charisma.
Her dark curls were big and bouncy, framing a golden-brown face that was all highlighter and honey. She wore a red halter romper with a deep V down the front and a tie at the waist, showing off legs that looked sculpted by prayer and Pilates. Her gold hoop earrings caught the sun, and a few delicate necklaces layered over her collarbone like an expensive afterthought.
“Damn,” Sandy murmured under her breath.
“Hi, chicas!” Jada called brightly as she approached. “Don’t mind me. Just here to cause a little trouble.”
The voice greeted her. “Welcome, Jada.”
“Hello~” she sang out.
The first question was delivered. “Would you rather fall in love on a mountaintop or a dance floor?”
“Dance floor,” Jada said immediately. “Especially if there’s bad decisions and great lighting.”
Sandy laughed aloud at that. Cynthia’s mouth twitched upwards.
“Your perfect partner gets you a pet as a surprise. What is it?”
Jada’s grin widened. “A snake. For real. Sexy, sneaky, misunderstood. Like me. They’re my spirit animal.”
That earned a small laugh from Ariana, who was watching from the side now, arms crossed, eyes gleaming.
Jada flirted her way through the rest of the questions. By the end, the voice asked, “Which would you rather share with a partner: a toothbrush, or a secret identity?”
Jada lifted one brow. “Mami, if I’m sharing anything with a woman, it’s not gonna be either of those things. Let’s be intimate .”
With a final wink, she stepped aside.
CONFESSIONAL – JADA RIVERA
Jada kicked her bare feet up on the white lounge chair and crossed her ankles, one red heel dangling from her toes. She tugged at her neckline playfully.
“Hi, I’m Jada. I’m 32. I’m a spicy-ass Latina. And I’m engaged to the love of my life, Miguel Suarez. He’s six-three, smells like cedar and testosterone, and he knows exactly where I’m coming home to when this is over.”
She gave the camera a sultry look that morphed into a full-on smile.
“But before that...I’m here for my gay little bachelorette party. I want to kiss girls. I want to sleep with girls. I want to ride this rainbow into the sunset and then settle down with my man and make cute babies with thick eyebrows. That’s it. That’s the plan.”
She paused, thoughtfully. “Also? Women smell really good. And I deserve that for at least a month.”
She picked up a glass of juice, took a sip, and said with a wink, “Cheers to bisexual chaos.”
The next entrance was a slow reveal - a woman in soft neutrals, sun hat in one hand, expression more cautious than coy.
Michelle Layton walked like she was trying not to disturb the gravel under her feet. Her light brown hair was cut just above the shoulders in a slightly messy bob, and her outfit was simple: a pale blue button-down, sleeves rolled, tied at the waist, and linen shorts that looked borrowed from someone’s stylish gay uncle. Her features were sharp and observant. She didn't look nervous; she looked...observant.
“Hi,” she said as she reached the pedestal, voice even but warm. “This is...a lot of sunlight.”
“Welcome, Michelle.”
Michelle shaded her eyes with one hand. “Hi.”
“Would you rather fall in love on a mountaintop or a dance floor?”
Michelle blinked. “Dance floor. Because I can’t dance, so if someone falls in love with me there, it’s meant to be.”
“Your perfect partner gets you a pet as a surprise. What is it?”
She tilted her head, thinking. “A cat that already likes me. Not one I have to win over. Life’s too short for emotionally withholding animals.”
Ariana laughed behind her hand. Jada whispered, “That’s fair.”
Michelle handled the rest of the questions with a dry, cerebral humor - a little guarded, but clear-eyed. When the secret identity vs. toothbrush dilemma came up, she said simply, “I’d share the identity.”
She gave a small shrug and a nod, then stepped off to the side.
CONFESSIONAL – MICHELLE LAYTON
Michelle sat cross-legged on the white chaise, hands in her lap like she was on a podcast with an audience.
“I’m Michelle. I’m 27. I’m in a lavender relationship with my best friend, Tyler Carr. He’s gay. I’m queer. We originally dated because he wasn’t out, and then we just...never really broke up.”
She smiled to herself. “We live together. We know each other’s DoorDash passwords. We’ve watched every single season of Drag Race together. He’s my person.”
She paused, the smile fading into something more thoughtful.
“I floated the idea of marrying for practical reasons. Taxes. Health insurance. You know, all that jazz.” A beat. “He told me he’d do it but only if I tried dating for real first. Like, full feelings, scary emotional intimacy, all that.”
She shrugged one shoulder. “So here I am. Vulnerable. Exposed. In linen.”
She blinked at the camera. “Tyler, if you’re watching this: I still hate you for putting me up to this.”
Then she smiled, small and sincere, and added, “But I do miss you.”
CONFESSIONAL - ARIANA
“Michelle’s hilarious. Like, I don’t even think she was trying half the time and I was crying laughing. She’s got this dry delivery that sneaks up on you. And Jada… okay, Jada’s just gorgeous. Her walk? I mean, come on. I’m not blind. She’s got main character energy, and she knows it. I’m watching her.”
CONFESSIONAL - CYNTHIA
“Sandy carries herself like she’s already in charge of the place, and I respect that. She reminds me of people I’d have been friends with in school, which is probably why I keep noticing her. Michelle surprised me - she’s got a bit of a mask, but it’s not fake. It’s protective. I recognize that. She seems interesting.”
CONFESSIONAL - MICHELLE
“I kinda love Ariana already? She’s tiny and chaotic and I can tell she’s gonna get us in trouble. In a good way. Also, Cynthia’s low-key intimidating. She hasn’t said much, but when she looks at you, it’s like she sees the whole file. I don’t know if I wanna impress her or run.”
The women mingled as they waited for their next instructions.
Cynthia leaned casually against a driftwood column near the fire pit, her arms folded, chin tilted thoughtfully as she spoke to Sandy, her tone even and precise. “My great-grandfather had five wives,” she said, not with pride exactly, but with the kind of amused reverence that came from hearing the story repeated often in her family. “My mother used to say they all got along better than some monogamous couples.” She raised an eyebrow at Sandy, a small, sly smile tugging at her lips. “That was polygamy and not exactly polyamory but…yeah...”
A few paces away, Ariana was curled up sideways on a cushioned bench, champagne glass dangling from her fingers, laughing hard at something Michelle had just said. “No, but seriously,” Ariana said, catching her breath and leaning in, her voice all sparkle and mischief. "You’re actually kinda cute. Like…annoyingly so.” Michelle blinked, caught mid-sip of her drink, and visibly short-circuited. “Wait. Damn, you’re coming like that right off the jump?” Ariana grinned wide, teeth and dimples. “Yeah. I mean, I flirt like it’s breathing. You’re fine.”
A chiming sound suddenly alerted the women, causing them all to look up. A large screen in a nearby cabana flickered to life in front of them. The women hurried to cluster on wooden benches facing it.
“Welcome to Eve’s Garden,” the host’s voice floated in again, warm and pleased, like someone smiling over a secret. “Now that you’ve had time to meet each other…it’s time to meet the Singles.”
The screen lit up in full and short, 10-second intros started to play.
A black woman appeared onscreen. Her image was pure steadiness - warm brown skin, sculpted cheekbones, locs slicked back into a bun, a serene kind of power behind her eyes. “I’m Shakara. I guess I’m what you would call a stud. I’m 32. I’m a homeowner, a Leo, and I’m not here to waste anyone’s time.”
Another woman looked like a walking sunset. Caramel curls spilled over bare shoulders, and she had a honey-dripping voice and flirtatious eyes. “Melanie. Twenty-five. From Georgia. I bake, I ride horses, and I kiss like I mean it.”
A sturdy woman stood in a faded tee and chain; she smirked at the camera like she knew she was going to be someone’s problem. Possibly everyone’s. “Shana. Novelist. Butch. Probably your type if you’ve ever had a type and hated yourself for it.”
A young woman smiled so big it crinkled the corners of her eyes. Her natural, dark curls were tied back in a pink ribbon, her voice syrupy sweet with a firmness that meant business. “Debbie Lynn. I make cinnamon rolls with cream cheese frosting and I love love.”
The screen caught the way the next woman’s red dress clung to every curve, her lipstick a warning and an invitation at once. She winked. “Stefanie. Twenty-seven. I will absolutely ruin your life but it will be so worth it.”
The screen went black again.
After the videos finished, the host prompted them to go over to the confession booth - a small, closed-off area in the corner - to make their choices of who they’d like to pair with for a first date.
There was a murmur among the girls, some playful nudges and whispers, others already glancing back at the screen as if it would give them answers.
Ariana was the first to hop up, barefoot, champagne flute in hand. “Alright, okay,” she said. She ran to the confession booth, blew the camera kiss, and made her choice. “Melanie, obviously. She likes to ride horses. I would like to ride her. Perfect match.”
Sandy followed next. She leaned in as if she was whispering a secret. “Shakara,” she said, decisive. “She seems like she can build a house and...what girl isn't into that?”
Michelle hesitated, then muttered, “Stefanie,” with a small shrug and an embarrassed grin. “Don’t ask.”
Kayla chose Debbie Lynn. Jada said she wanted Stefanie because “honestly, she looks like a good time…if you know what I mean.”
Cynthia was the last to approach. She stood before the camera with her arms crossed lightly. “Shakara,” she said after a pause. She gave no explanation.
When the last woman returned to her seat, the screen flickered. The host’s voice came over the speakers once again.
Her voice poured from the speakers in a low, smooth alto - feminine, lilting, omniscient.
“Eve did not eat the fruit because she was hungry,” Livia said, her tone half-teasing. “She ate it because she wanted to choose.”
A ripple of laughter moved through the women, unsure but delighted.
“But you, my darlings,” Livia continued. "Have not yet eaten from the tree of knowledge. And so…you don’t get to choose. Not yet.”
Cynthia exhaled a quiet laugh, dragging a hand across her mouth. Ariana grinned, leaned over, and whispered to Michelle, “I knew it was too easy.”
“Your first pairings,” Livia said. "Have already been decided. Based not on desire…but on who will reflect your truth back to you. Who will show you your patterns, your fears, your longings. Who might become your mirror. Or your muse.”
The screen began to glow again.
"Welcome to your first pairing ceremony, women of Eden. Today is about your first temptation - the first lesson of Eve. Will you be drawn to the person who reflects who you are…or the person who ignites who you could become?"
Cynthia shifted slightly in her seat. Ariana glanced at her, and they shared a smile.
The host continued:
"You each answered a series of questions - some moral, some emotional, some instinctive. We’ve used those answers to determine your first match. Some of you will be paired with your mirror - someone who reflects your emotional truth. Others will be given a muse - someone who stirs your curiosity, your hunger, your desire to explore. You won’t know which one you’re getting…until you meet her."
A breath of laughter from Jada. “This is exciting,” she whispered.
“My heart is pounding,” Michelle muttered back, but she was smiling.
"Michelle. Step forward."
Michelle did, walking with her arms crossed tightly over her ribs like she could contain the flutter in her chest.
"You answered emotionally. You speak of vulnerability with caution. Your match is someone who lives boldly in what you repress. A muse to draw you out. You will go on a date with... Stefanie."
Stefanie stepped out of a hidden alcove, full hips, smirking mouth, silver jewelry glittering against her collarbone. She wore a plunging black jumpsuit and a look of seduction.
“Hi, baby,” Stefanie said before Michelle could speak.
Michelle opened her mouth. Closed it. Then laughed. “Hi.”
Murmurs of appreciation and cheers from the other women sounded from where they were watching.
"Jada. Step forward."
Jada strutted up, one hand on her hip, curls bouncing. “Let’s see who y’all gave me,” she said, lifting her chin like she was preparing for battle.
"You answered flirtatiously. You are performative, magnetic, and evasive. Your match is someone who sees beneath that. Your muse - dry where you are drenched. Still where you shimmer. You will go on a date with…Shana."
Jada’s eyes narrowed. Shana Tate, in an oversized linen shirt, cargo shorts, and Doc Martens, didn’t smile. She just nodded once, slow and assessing.
CONFESSIONAL - JADA
Jada released a huge sigh. “I came here to flirt and ( BEEP!) ” She laughed wildly. “She’s just…She’s just not my type.”
Jada and Shana walked to the side, neither of them looking very happy.
"Kayla. Step forward."
Kayla, all soft curves and long hair, walked forward demurely.
"You answered with your heart. You want safety and home, but you’re afraid of boredom. Your match is your muse - a woman who challenges your sense of ease. You will have a date with...Stefanie."
Kayla blinked. “Wait…didn’t Stefanie already…?”
"Stefanie will have a date with both women.” The Voice dropped into a low tease. “She can handle it."
The onlookers whooped and Stefanie laughed. Stefanie waved at Kayla with her other arm looped around Michelle’s waist. “There’s enough of me to go around.”
Kayla just smiled nervously and walked over. “Sure. Why not?”
CONFESSIONAL - JADA
“So Stefanie has two dates, but I’m not one of them. Such ( BEEP! ) I tell you, I’m not happy with you guys right now.” She pointed at the producers behind the camera and laughed as if she was joking…when it was clear that she was not.
"Ariana. Step forward."
Ariana walked forward.
"You answered with your feelings. Your humor is sharp. Your longing, loud. You get a mirror - someone who lives passionately like you do. You’re going on a date with…Melanie."
“Yes!” Ariana said.
Melanie stepped forward, hair in waves, soft pink lipstick, sundress, dimples. “Hi, gorgeous,” she said, her voice warm and slow.
Ariana giggled - pure instinct. “Don’t do that to me right now.”
Melanie offered her hand. Ariana took it.
Michelle pushed her lips to the side, not altogether happy.
"Cynthia. Step forward."
Cynthia walked slow. Measured. A little guarded.
"You answered emotionally, but you restrained yourself. You seek control. Stability. You deny your curiosity out of respect for the life you’ve built. So we’re giving you your muse. You will have a date with...Shakara."
Cynthia smiled as Shakara stepped forward - tall, handsome, arms folded casually across her chest.
Shakara returned the smile and said, “You’re a voice coach, right?”
Cynthia nodded. “I am.”
“You’re gonna have to teach me how to breathe right, then,” Shakara said. “Because, wow.”
Cynthia exhaled through a laugh. “Just so you know…” Cynthia said as they walked over to where the rest of the couples were. “I picked you anyway.”
They joined the forming cluster just as the Voice purred, “Sandy . Your date is…Melanie.”
A soft oof broke from somewhere in the crowd. Sandy didn’t flinch. She just blinked slowly and pivoted toward Melanie with a tiny shrug, as if to say, Let’s get on with it. Melanie offered her a sunny, if slightly distracted, smile. Ariana was pouting at her because she no longer had her all to herself.
Then came the last name.
“Kayla. Your date will be…Debbie Lynn.”
Debbie Lynn stepped out and took Kayla’s hand without hesitation. Kayla’s whole face brightened.
When it was done, they stood in their new pairs. Some side-by-side. Some barely looking at their matches. The Voice returned one last time.
"You have your matches for the evening. Enjoy your dates."
***
The sun had just started to dip, casting soft amber hues over the beach's shoreline. The women followed the lantern-lit path down to the beach, sandals in hand, breeze in their hair. Production had already laid out blankets on the sand, each one with its own decadent spread: fruits, wine, finger foods arranged like one might see on magazine covers. The pairs naturally drifted toward their designated setups, spaced far enough apart for privacy but close enough to feel the pulse of the group.
Ariana settled with Melanie under a blush-toned umbrella, eyeing the chilled rosé and berries. Cynthia sat beside Shakara on a lower blanket, the ocean licking close to their toes. Jada barely glanced at Shana as they sat, legs crossed, posture sharp. Kayla and Debbie Lynn laughed the second they touched down, already halfway through the grapes.
Then the Voice returned, smooth as silk but with that familiar undercurrent of mischief.
“Ladies…”
They paused, forks in mid-air, glances flickering upward.
“Tonight’s dates are just the beginning. A chime will sound periodically. When it does, you’ll have a choice: stay where you are…or leave your match and ask someone else to continue the date with you.”
A beat.
“If they accept, you’ll swap your date right then and there. If they decline…you’ll return to your original match, if they’ll still have you.”
Ariana’s mouth dropped open. “They are so messy for this.”
Cynthia looked out at the horizon like she was trying to ignore the rising thrum in her chest.
Kayla whistled low. “Oh, it’s gonna get spicy.”
The Voice cooed again. “The chime also indicates when those with multiple dates can step in to claim time. Remember, not everyone will say yes. Choose wisely.”
A soft wind carried the weight of the moment as the first chime echoed across the beach - gentle, almost sacred. No one moved. Not yet. There was an understanding that it indicated the start of the first date. Eyes flicked across blankets, silently assessing, calculating risk.
Then they went back to their dates, pretending the rules of the game didn’t rattle them.
***
“So…” Shakara said, her voice low and teasing as she leaned back onto her haunches. The setting sun bounced off the sand of the beach and cast a warm gold across her rich brown skin, catching the delicate glint of a silver chain resting just below her collarbone. She gave Cynthia a small, confident smile - suave and effortless. “You said you picked me?”
“I did,” Cynthia replied, no hesitation, her tone smooth and assured.
She was stretched out across the blanket, propped up casually on her elbows. The breeze from the ocean drifted across her skin, and the moonlight glinted off the piercings in her ears. She wore high-waisted cream trousers with a wide-leg flow and a sleeveless black halter top that showed off the strength in her arms and the soft taper of her waist. She knew she looked good - her posture said so, and so did the way Shakara’s eyes traveled her body with deliberate appreciation.
Shakara’s gaze lingered a beat too long before she spoke again. “Why?”
Cynthia tilted her head, considering, and then gave a little shrug. “You’ve just got this…calm about you. Like you don’t need to say a lot to take up space. My life’s pretty nonstop, so that’s…really attractive to me.”
Shakara’s smile deepened at that. “Yeah? You like peace?”
“I do,” Cynthia said, her voice soft but sure.
“Well,” Shakara murmured, the corner of her mouth twitching up. “I’m glad to hear I’m attractive to someone as pretty as you.”
Cynthia felt the little flutter in her chest that came when someone knew exactly what they were doing and did it anyway. Her smile started to grow, slow and undeniable, as she let herself look directly at Shakara.
And Shakara, seeing that she’d landed her shot, smirked - satisfied, not smug. Her voice dropped just enough to let the intimacy slip between them. “So what do you do? You said you're a...”
“Voice coach,” Cynthia nodded, settling a little further into her elbow like she was inviting the conversation to get comfortable too.
“Oh, really?” Shakara said, eyebrows lifting slightly. “So you can sing.”
Cynthia shrugged, eyes twinkling. “That’s what people say.”
Shakara let out a low laugh and gave a slow shake of her head. “And humble too. Cute.”
Cynthia looked away for a second, her grin softening but refusing to disappear. The warmth on her cheeks wasn’t from the sun.
“Sing a little something for me,” Shakara suddenly prompted.
Cynthia laughed. “Oh my God. Okay, let me see…” She sat up to prepare.
Shakara chuckled. “Oh, you were ready! I was expecting you to act like you ain’t wanna do it.”
“Oh, no, I’m always ready to sing,” Cynthia said unabashedly. “Do you want to hear it or not?”
“I do! Let me hear!” Shakara gestured as if she was giving her the floor.
Cynthia cleared her throat with a quiet, practiced hum and inhaled. Then she began to sing Ain’t No Way by Aretha Franklin - soft and low at first, like she was telling a secret to the waves. Then she let it build. Her voice soared, full and velvet, rich with feeling. The emotion in it was undeniable - raw but controlled, like she was pouring her soul through each note without ever letting it slip from her grip.
By the time she reached the climax, the rest of the beach had fallen into silence. Every couple had stilled. Even the ocean seemed to hush around her. Then, as the last note fell like honey into the air, the spell broke.
Cheers and laughter rang out from every corner of the beach.
Shakara, however, just stared. Mouth parted. Eyes shining. She looked absolutely smitten, like someone who’d just seen a shooting star land right in front of her eyes.
She blinked hard, then reached up to pretend she was wiping drool from her chin. “Girl…would it be uncouth for me to ask you to marry me right now?”
Cynthia chuckled, touched and a little flustered. “Well, that would be kind of awkward, seeing as I already have a fiancé.”
Shakara’s smile didn’t falter. “Well, we’re just gonna have to change that.”
“ Ah! ” Cynthia gasped, playfully scandalized. She covered her mouth, her laughter full of delight, even as her eyes lingered on Shakara just a little longer than they should have.
CONFESSIONAL - CYNTHIA
“So,” she began, her voice thoughtful, low. “Shakara.”
She smiled to herself. It was small, like she hadn’t meant for it to show.
“She’s...cool. Real smooth,” Cynthia said, a little drawl slipping in, a little warmth. “The kind of person who walks into a room and doesn’t have to say a word to get your attention. I notice things like that.”
She paused, fingers pulling at the hem of her halter top. “I liked talking to her. I liked that she actually listened . You’d be surprised how rare that is.”
There was another pause - longer this time. A moment of stillness as Cynthia’s eyes shifted slightly, like she was replaying the beach in her mind.
“She’s easy to be around,” she admitted, finally. “Funny. Grounded. Bold in this way that doesn’t feel performative.”
Her brow lifted slightly, like she was challenging herself to be more honest than she meant to be.
“I wouldn’t mind getting another date with her,” she said softly. “Just to see what else is there.”
Then her smile returned - cooler now. Tucked back behind a wall.
“I’m not saying there’s anything there. I’m just...observing.”
A beat. Then, dryly: “It’s only the first night.”
She gave the camera a little shrug and a raised brow, like she hadn’t just revealed far more than she intended.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Ariana said, settling back onto her blanket after listening raptly to the impromptu concert that had just been performed for everyone. “She’s got fucking pipes!” She was still straining her neck to look at Cynthia when Melanie laughed at her.
“I hope she didn’t steal all of your attention. I can’t belt a power ballad, but I can do this…” She stood up and did a standing back tuck. It was impressive, but her landing sent sand flying into Ariana’s face. Ariana began to sputter and spit as she wiped it away. “Oh, no!” Melanie said, slightly panicked. “Are you okay?”
Instead of being upset, Ariana laughed. “Holy shit,” she said. “That went right in my mouth.”
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Melanie continued. “That’s so embarrassing! I was just freaked out that this suddenly turned into a talent show.”
Ariana laughed. “You really just got up and did a flip. That’s hilarious.”
Melanie groaned, but she was happy that Ariana was taking it lightly. “I’m so embarrassed, oh my God!”
CONFESSIONAL - ARIANA
Ariana laughed uncontrollably, remembering Melanie’s sudden flip. “Why did she do that?!”
A chime sounded.
Ariana looked up as Sandy came over to have her pre-matched date with Melanie. “Okay, she said. Well…I guess I’ll get going.”
“Yeah…” Melanie said, looking a little regretful. “See you later.”
Ariana got up and started to walk over to Cynthia and Shakara to pull Cynthia for a chat, but neither of them were moving while other couples were shuffling around. She hesitated. If she got turned down for a date, that would be embarrassing. While she was debating, Michelle came over to her.
“Hey,” Michelle said. “Can I pull you for a date?”
“Yeah!” Ariana said, a little relieved to have the choice taken out of her hands. “Sure!”
She and Michelle walked over to a blanket and settled down.
“So what’s your story?” Ariana asked as she sat onto her knees. “Why did you decide to come on this show?”
“Well…” Michelle said. “Tyler, my best friend, is a gay man. We’re childhood best friends. I was his beard all through high school. And I guess the dynamic just became really comfortable because we’ve been together ever since. We live together and everything. I mentioned to him that we should just get married for legal benefits. He basically looked at me like I was crazy, and he pushed me to actually try to have a real relationship first.”
Ariana nodded. “Yeah, I agree with him,” she said. “Are you bi or lesbian?”
“Lesbian.”
“Oh, wow. Yeah, you definitely need to get some pussy before you just settle down into a life of celibacy.”
Michelle let out a startled laugh at Ariana’s blunt words.
“Unless…were you planning to just be married in name but do your own things on the side?” Ariana continued asking.
“No,” Michelle said. “I was gonna be faithful.”
Ariana shook her head. “You’re completely insane.”
Michelle laughed.
“What about you?” Michelle asked. “Are you lesbian? Bi? Pan?”
“I’m unlabeled,” Ariana said. “I find that, when you put a label on yourself, people automatically make assumptions about you based on that label. So I’d just rather not.”
“Fair,” Michelle agreed.
CONFESSIONAL - MICHELLE
“I…am really into Ari. She’s cute. She’s funny. I definitely want to get to know her more.”
A chime sounded.
Couples shuffled once again.
Sandy pulled Shakara for a chat, and that’s when Ariana saw her chance. She stood up.
“Oh, are you leaving?” Michelle asked.
“Yeah, we’ll talk some more later,” Ariana promised.
***
Cynthia barely had a chance to sit up and look around for her next date before Ariana was standing in front of her.
“Hi,” Ariana said. “Can I sit?”
“Oh, hello!” Cynthia said. “Yes! Sit, sit! Pull up a blanket.”
Ariana chuckled at Cynthia’s silly joke. “I had to come over and talk to you after I heard you sing,” Ariana said. “Do you use that move on all the girls?”
Cynthia laughed. “I don’t, but maybe I should start. Clearly, it works”
Ariana nodded. “That’s definitely a closer. Are you kidding me? You could start a cult with that voice.”
Cynthia laughed again. “How old are you?” she asked.
“24,” Ariana answered.
Cynthia nodded. “A baby!”
Ariana frowned. “A baby?!” she said, scandalized. “How old are you ?!”
“31,” Cynthia answered easily. “I have a little sister your age.”
CONFESSIONAL - ARIANA
“I walked over and immediately got sister-zoned. Shit’s brutal out here, man.” She laughed good-naturedly.
“You know, I can sing a little,” Ariana said, shifting gears.
“ Can you,” Cynthia said, intrigued. “You going to let me hear?”
Ariana smirked victoriously at having successfully baited Cynthia. “If there’s ever an advantage where you get to take someone somewhere cool, take me and then I’ll sing for you.”
“Bargaining for down the road!” Cynthia said, impressed. “You are sly !”
Ariana smiled and shrugged unapologetically.
“Do you like Broadway at all?” Ariana asked, interested in learning more about Cynthia.
“Do I like it?!” Cynthia scoffed like the question was a personal offense. “Broadway’s basically the heartbeat of my work. I coach singers - some who’ve already made it, some trying to get there. And for a lot of them, that is the dream. I live in that world.”
“Oh my God, that’s so cool,” Ariana said, folding her legs under her. “So, like…you’ve helped people get on Broadway?”
“Sometimes. I mean, they do the work - I’m just a tune-up. A little polish. Emotional support. The person who makes them sing the same vowel seventeen times until it stops sounding like they’re swallowing it.”
Ariana laughed, charmed. “You sound like you’re good at it.”
Cynthia smiled, sheepish and appreciative. “I love it. I like watching someone find the part of their voice they didn’t think they had. That moment when they surprise themselves? It’s addictive.”
Ariana nodded like she got it. “That is addictive.”
Cynthia leaned back onto her hands, letting the breeze hit her face for a second. “My fiancé was actually in Shrek: The Musical . He played Donkey.”
Ariana’s entire body lit up. “Shut up! Are you kidding?! I love Shrek: the Musical. That show is so underrated. ‘Don’t Let Me Go’? Instant serotonin. The tap-dancing rats? Art. Literal art.”
Cynthia laughed hard. “How many times have you seen it?”
“I made my college roommate watch the bootleg with me like…five times,” Ariana said. “He kept saying it was weird and then I caught him singing ‘Who I’d Be’ in the shower.”
“That sounds about right.”
Ariana grinned. “In my last year of high school, I was struggling hard between whether I wanted to pursue veterinary work or performing. My dog happened to be looking at me with the most adorable eyes when I was filling out my college application form, so vet work won.”
Cynthia laughed. “Well, it’s never too late to pursue live theatre. I have connections. Just let me know, and I can get you an audition somewhere. And you don’t have to make it a career; it can be a side thing.”
Ariana smiled and shrugged. “Yeah…” she said, seemingly thinking about it. “I don’t know. If I ever find the time again, maybe...”
They laughed and the energy between them warmed, but stayed grounded. Just the slow settling of mutual respect and easy camaraderie.
They slipped from topic to topic effortlessly.
Ariana talked about how she used to volunteer at an animal rescue and how one time she accidentally brought home a cat that wasn’t actually up for adoption.
Cynthia nearly choked on a grape. “You stole a cat?!”
“ Briefly! And she was fine. They said she was the calmest she’d ever been. I would have kept her, but…” She sighed. “I’m allergic.”
Cynthia told her about the time a singer froze during a studio session and she had to lie on the floor with them - literally flat on her back - to get them to regulate their breathing again. “It was actually quite fun.”
“I bet,” Ariana said, sincere now. “I bet they felt safe with you. You’ve got that kind of energy.”
Cynthia looked at her thoughtfully for a second, touched. “That’s a nice thing to say. Thank you.”
“No, really,” Ariana said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You seem like someone people…feel safe with. I don’t know. That’s rare.”
Cynthia didn’t quite know how to respond to that, so she just smiled and let the compliment settle between them.
A chime sounded, and The Voice came over the speakers.
“We’re at the end of our dates. Please go back to your cabanas and…mingle.”
***
As the final chime echoed through the tropical air, the women began rising from their picnic spots and scattering back toward their cabanas, still warm from the glow of easy laughter and the novelty of new connections. Cynthia and Ariana walked back toward the living area side-by-side.
And just over the horizon…a different reality was unfolding.
The screen faded to black.
The Voice came on to introduce a new twist.
“You think things are that easy? Think again. Things are never that easy in Eve’s Garden.”
The image cut to a new setting - sleek, dark, and cinematic. An aerial shot revealed another island just half a mile away, separated only by a narrow channel of glittering blue. On it, a sprawling modern villa stretched across the cliffside, built in sharp contrast to the lush, untouched natural beauty of Eden.
Inside, the atmosphere was less serene. More tension. More testosterone.
Six men sat scattered across a high-tech viewing room, sunburnt and freshly agitated, watching wide-screen monitors broadcasting every single date from earlier that afternoon.
“Welcome to…the Serpent’s Den.”
“ While the women think their partners are waiting for them back home, the truth is a little more complicated.”
Maxwell sat stiffly on the edge of a low-slung couch, his jaw tight as he watched Cynthia and Shakara’s date play back on a loop.
Her laugh echoed from the speakers - warm, unguarded.
“So…you said you picked me.”
“I did.”
He wrung his hands nervously.
The Voice spoke again.
“The men are watching. Every smile. Every touch. Every temptation. And soon, they’ll have the chance to interfere.”
Mitch’s arms were crossed as he leaned against a wall, eyes narrowing as Ariana flirted casually with Michelle.
A large monitor lit up in the center of the room with the logo of the show. Below it, six profiles of the women appeared - names, faces, stats. Beside each one, a glowing question mark flickered.
“ Through a series of challenges, the men will earn the power to interfere - injecting themselves back into the narrative to sway pairings, spark drama, or pull their partner back toward the path of loyalty.”
Tony flexed his arms behind his head, wearing a satisfied grin. “Game on.”
“Will the women go back to their Adams? Or will they take a bite of the forbidden fruit? Only time will tell. Stay tuned for the next episode of…Eve’s Garden.”
A final overhead shot panned back out - two islands, bathed in golden dusk light. One lush and inviting. One cool and calculating.
The game had officially begun.