I had the chance to watch the entire Andor series before it was released on the platform, and I spent a month with my heart in knots—torn—after Cassian Andor and Bix Caleen’s story took unexpectedly tragic proportions, especially with her sacrifice leading to his, as he died without knowing he was a father, but helped save the galaxy. There was no doubt they loved each other, but… what about Jyn Erso?

I hadn’t even fully processed all of that when the opportunity came to speak with Diego Luna — just for a few minutes, but exclusively — and I found myself stuck in my own personal dilemma: how do I ask the question? I call it “the elevator question,” and I didn’t realize it was something established among fans. I’ve always been vocal about defending the love story that never happened in Star Wars, and now I felt guilty for rooting for a romance when Cassian had no idea he had a child with Bix. In the end, I found a way to leave everyone (un)happy — with Diego’s indirect but personal blessing — but it was a whole journey.

On the day of the interview, I was afraid I’d blow it and irritate him — or worse, get elegantly dodged with a cold and generic answer. But there wouldn’t be another chance, so I went ahead and asked Diego directly: given what we know about Bix (wink), how were fans supposed to interpret that elevator moment between Cassian and Jyn in Rogue One? He didn’t spell it out, of course — because of spoilers — but he said enough. Enough to leave me spiraling for days!

Basically, I made it clear I was Team Jyn, asking him to be gentle with my heart when addressing what Andor had already made clear, and we laughed. Diego deflected: there’s room for contradictions in these characters, and based on what I’d seen, he suggested I make my own choice. I told him I was still Team Jyn “because I’m a romantic,” and he joked back: “me too — and so is Cassian, even if he doesn’t know it.”

Now, with Diego’s interview to Collider, it’s all out in the open: Cassian and Bix were everything to each other. Childhood, the first kiss, the shared mistakes, the inevitable return. “She’s his home. His country. The last link to the past.” He would have come back. He would have come back for her. And he died with that memory.

The sound of my heart breaking can be heard between the lines. I ship Cassian with Jyn.

I love Bix. I admire the character; I’m moved by her pain, her silence, her resilience, her tragic strength. But Jyn… Jyn appears like a spark. The glimmer of possibility. Had he survived Scarif, yes — Cassian would have returned to Bix. Because that’s who he is. Loyal to the end. But he would’ve come back with a conflicted heart. Because, in that elevator, beside Jyn, something happened. Something much deeper than wartime camaraderie. There was tenderness. There was surrender. There was a kiss (I swear there was!). There was a kind of love.

Showrunner Tony Gilroy wasn’t present at the interview, but I’m not alone — he also addressed the “dilemma.”

“I knew very well what had happened with Jyn and Cassian in Rogue One and what had happened in the elevator,” he told Collider. “It was really ambiguous about what was happening there. I felt bad for the people who had invested so much time in the fan fiction and stuff like that. The people who really had gone deep on it. You don’t want to trample on somebody’s flower garden, you know? But I have to do what I have to do. I’m sure there’s somebody who will never get over that. I apologize. I really do,” he continued.

That’s all right, Tony. It’s okay, Diego. The ambiguity is still there, and that’s wonderful!

In some ways, Jyn might have reminded Cassian of the sister he never found again. There was something about her — the abandonment, the orphanhood, the rebellion, the muffled pain — that echoed his own story. And maybe that’s precisely why the feeling was so strong. So fast. So irreversible.

But there wasn’t enough time.

And that’s the point. Neither Rogue One nor Andor is about happy endings. They’re about everything that could have been. About the love that almost was, the life that didn’t get the chance to unfold, the gestures that tell a whole story. They’re about what lingers in the subtext.

Cassian was a man shaped by loss, loyalty, and long silences. And his love for Bix — deep, rooted, visceral — never stopped existing. Not even when he looked at Jyn and saw, maybe, a new chance. Maybe an escape. Maybe a spark. Maybe the future.

“You don’t understand sacrifice without hope,” Diego Luna told Collider. And in this season, hope existed — because love was present. More than one kind. In layers. In conflict.

So yes, Diego. You are a gentleman. You answered me with grace, deflected with charm, and now, weeks later, handed me the truth like someone leaving a flower on a grave. Cassian loved Bix.
And yet… he could have loved Jyn.

That’s why Andor is the most human work in the entire Star Wars saga.

Because only humans live (and die) with a divided heart.