Behind-the-Scenes Drama: Never-Before-Seen Photos Reveal Nicole Wallace and Gabriel Guevara Avoiding Each Other at the Our Fault Premiere. A Fan Insider Says, “No One Expected Them to Be This Cold.”

The red carpet has always been a stage for glamour, but for the stars of Prime Video’s Culpables trilogy, it became a battlefield of unspoken grudges. As Culpa Nuestra (Our Fault), the emotional finale to the steamy saga of step-sibling lovers Nick and Noah, premiered on October 16, 2025, the spotlight shifted from the screen to the searing tension between leads Nicole Wallace and Gabriel Guevara. Newly surfaced, never-before-seen photos from the event—leaked via fan accounts on X and TikTok—capture the duo in a masterclass of mutual avoidance: stolen glances that scream discomfort, deliberate sidesteps, and a chasm of empty space where joint poses should have been. One fan insider, who claims to have rubbed elbows with the production crew, dropped a bombshell in a viral thread: “No one expected them to be this cold. It was like watching ice melt in slow motion—awkward, painful, and impossible to look away from.” With the trilogy now complete and streaming records shattered (over 100 million views in its first week), these images have reignited a feud that’s simmered for nearly two years. Was this premiere the final frost in a once-fiery friendship? Or proof that Hollywood’s hottest on-screen chemistry was always just an illusion?

To grasp the chill at the Culpa Nuestra premiere, we need to trace the thaw from blistering heat. The Culpables phenomenon exploded with Culpa Mía (My Fault) in June 2023, Mercedes Ron’s Wattpad sensation reimagined as a forbidden romance dripping with revved engines, Riviera sunsets, and enough angst to fuel a thousand fan edits. Wallace, 23 at the time and riding high from her soap opera roots in El secreto de Puente Viejo, embodied Noah’s fiery vulnerability with a raw edge that felt lived-in. Guevara, 24 and a Netflix alum from Skam España, brought brooding intensity to Nick, his tattooed bad-boy vibe masking a vulnerability that hooked Gen Z hearts. Their chemistry? Volcanic. BTS footage showed them tangled in laughter during race-car stunts, whispering secrets between takes, and posting thirst traps that blurred professional lines. A now-iconic clip from the Culpa Mía press junket has them finishing each other’s sentences about Noah’s “trust issues,” dissolving into giggles that screamed more than mates. Fans dubbed them #Gabicole, churning out TikToks with 50 million views syncing their pool kiss to Bad Bunny tracks. “They weren’t acting; they were feeling,” gushed director Oriol Paulo in a Variety chat. Whispers of off-screen hookups swirled—Guevara’s arm around Wallace at an Ibiza afterparty, her cryptic IG story of intertwined hands captioned “Racing towards you.”

The fairy tale fractured in late 2023, midway through filming Culpa Tuya (Your Fault), the trilogy’s jealous-heartbreak middle chapter. Insiders paint a picture of a set poisoned by proximity: 14-hour days dredging up Nick and Noah’s toxicity mirrored the actors’ own bubbling resentments. “The intimacy scenes got too real, too fast,” one crew source told FandomWire. Guevara, fresh off a Venice Film Festival scandal involving assault allegations (later dropped), leaned harder into Wallace for support—or so it seemed. But by November 1, the digital dagger fell: Wallace unfollowed him on Instagram, erasing years of tagged memories. He retaliated swiftly, purging joint photos and liking posts that body-shamed her post-filming figure—accusations his team vehemently denies. Enter María de Nati, Guevara’s co-star in La Mesías and his confirmed girlfriend by early 2024. Paparazzi shots of them locking lips at a Valencia gala fueled theories: Was De Nati the jealous third wheel, demanding distance from Wallace? Or did Guevara’s flirtations with fans during promo tours finally snap Wallace’s patience? “It was mutual exhaustion,” the fan insider posits in their X thread, which amassed 2 million views. “Gabriel wanted space to focus on his new relationship; Nicole felt betrayed by the shade.”

The first public autopsy came at the Culpa Tuya premiere on December 27, 2024, in Madrid’s Callao Cinema—a venue once synonymous with their triumph. Grainy fan cams, now etched in fandom lore, show Wallace, ethereal in emerald silk, orbiting author Mercedes Ron like a shield. When emcee Tomás Ollé calls for a “Nick and Noah solo snap,” she freezes, then bolts backstage with a murmured “Bathroom break.” Guevara, dapper in black velvet, lingers awkwardly, flashing a tight smile to the crowd before vanishing into the throng. No eye contact. No waves. Just the echo of flashes capturing empty red carpet between them. Spanish tabloid Los40 labeled it “the tension thicker than the plot,” while TikTok user @justtiktoks03’s clip of the dodge racked up 10 million views, captioned: “From soulmates to strangers in 18 months. What broke them?” Guevara brushed it off in a Cosmopolitan interview: “We’re pros—love on screen, respect off.” Wallace, sharper: “Boundaries are growth. We’ve both evolved.” But the subtext? Nuclear.

Fast-forward to October 2025, and the Culpa Nuestra premiere at Madrid’s Palacio de Congresos was billed as redemption: a time-jumped finale where Nick and Noah grapple with maturity, exes, and maybe-forever. Directed by Domingo González, it promised closure with “nuanced heartbreak,” per early El País reviews, earning a solid 6.2 on IMDb for Wallace’s “empowered glow-up” and Guevara’s “layered regret.” The event buzzed with A-listers—Marta Hazas, Iván Sánchez—but the real show was the ghosts haunting the carpet. Now, these never-before-seen photos, unearthed from a fan’s private archive and shared anonymously on X under @NicanorVJ2, peel back the varnish. Shot from the wings by a “crew-adjacent” attendee (per the poster’s DMs), they depict Wallace artfully angling her body away during group shots, her smile a porcelain mask as Guevara hovers two feet too far. One frame catches him mid-glance—longing? Resigned?—while she chats animatedly with Ron, oblivious or intentional. Another, from the afterparty, shows them at opposite ends of a VIP booth, De Nati draped on his arm like a victory flag, Wallace deep in conversation with a producer, her laugh not quite reaching her eyes.

The fan insider’s thread, posted November 1, 2025, under @m_r_r0601, dissects it frame-by-frame: “These aren’t posed; they’re purloined moments no PR team could spin. Nicole’s body language screams ‘do not approach’—shoulders squared, gaze averted. Gabriel’s trying to play cool, but his fidgeting? Betrayal of the heart. No one expected this level of cold; after two years, we thought promo would force a thaw. Instead, it’s permafrost.” Replies pour in: “It’s giving exes at a wedding,” one user quips, attaching a meme of penguins huddling minus two. Another, @josephinehero, reminds: “Don’t forget Gabriel’s unfollow purge—he started the ice age.” The photos, timestamped October 16, align with viral clips from the night: Wallace excusing herself mid-panel as Guevara nears, him lingering post-Q&A like a forgotten prop. “Aura points for Nicole standing her ground,” tweets @jikyujpg, celebrating her solo photo refusal redux.

What fueled this arctic front? Sources circle back to that infamous 2024 set blowout during Culpa Tuya‘s wrap: a rehearsal gone feral over a betrayal scene, where fiction fused with fact. “Nicole accused him of ego trips; Gabriel snapped she was ‘always the victim,'” per the insider’s sourced whispers. Production halted for hours, the director mediating like a couples’ therapist. Post-feud, professionalism reigned—Culpa Tuya streamed to 80 million views—but joy evaporated. A January 2024 photoshoot, meant to tease the finale, captures their last “warm” frame: Wallace’s hand on his knee, both beaming. By premiere night, it’s ancient history.

The fallout? A boon for buzz. Culpa Nuestra topped Prime Video charts in 190 countries, fans devouring the irony of on-screen reconciliation amid off-screen rift. Theories abound: De Nati’s influence (she skipped the event, but her IG stories glowed with “grateful for my peace”), burnout from embodying eternal angst, or unresolved feelings curdling into contempt. Wallace, now headlining a Netflix spy thriller, posted premiere night: “Grateful for the journey—and the lessons.” Guevara, promoting a solo project, echoed: “Growth hurts, but it’s real.” Yet, in a joint promo vid—awkwardly spliced to avoid shared shots—they read fan mail like scripted adversaries, her “Thanks for the love” landing flat beside his nod.

These photos aren’t just pixels; they’re a requiem for what Culpables sold as attainable: passion that transcends screens. The fan insider nails it: “We rooted for Nick and Noah because we saw Gabicole in them. Now? It’s a cautionary tale—love’s fault lines run deep.” As the trilogy fades to credits, one X user muses: “If they can fake this heat while freezing each other out, imagine the fire if they’d stayed friends.” Cold comfort, perhaps, but in Hollywood’s harsh glare, it’s the closest to closure we’ll get.