[Scene: Ilham's Apartment – Night]
The glow of his phone screen lit up the dark room. Notifications stacked endlessly — management texts, fan hashtags, an invitation to a private event.
Ilham swiped them away. His guitar leaned in the corner, untouched. The trophies on his shelf shimmered under city lights, but to him, they felt like relics of another man's life.
Instead, his eyes lingered on a folded napkin from the café. The one he had given Alvira.
He exhaled slowly.
Why does that memory weigh more than any applause I've ever received?
[Scene: University Library – Next Afternoon]
Alvira walked between rows of tall shelves, arms cradling borrowed books. She stopped when she saw a figure slouched at a back table, hoodie pulled low.
Ilham. Again.
He wasn't reading. Just staring at the open pages, fingers drumming absently. His phone buzzed on the table — he turned it face down, ignoring the call.
"Skipping work?" she teased softly, approaching.
His lips curved faintly. "You could say that."
She hesitated, then sat across from him, like it had become their unspoken habit.
[Scene: Between Silence and Truth]
For a while, only the shuffle of students and the hum of lights filled the space.
Finally, Alvira spoke. "You don't seem… like yourself today."
He looked at her — really looked, as if deciding whether to let her see past the walls.
"I used to think music was my whole life," he said quietly. "But lately, I wonder if it's just… noise. The kind that keeps me from hearing what really matters."
Her breath caught.
This was the Isa the world never saw. Not the idol. Not the polished star. Just… a man questioning his path.
"Maybe silence," she whispered, "isn't emptiness. Maybe it's space for something real."
Their eyes held in that library hush.
[Scene: The Almost Missed Bus]
When they finally left, dusk had fallen. Isa walked with her toward the bus stop, hands in pockets.
A black van waited at the curb — his manager leaned against it, checking his watch impatiently.
"Tae, we're late. The interview—"
"I'll walk," Ilham cut in, his tone final.
The manager's eyes widened. "Walk? In the cold? What about the fans waiting?"
But Isa had already fallen into step beside Alvira, as if the van — and everything it symbolized — didn't exist.
Alvira glanced at him, surprise flickering across her face.
"You didn't have to…"
"I wanted to." His reply was simple. Certain.
[Scene: The Goodbye at the Corner]
At the intersection, her bus pulled up, brakes squealing. She tightened her grip on her bag, hesitant to leave.
Ilham looked at her, the city lights reflecting in his eyes. "Sometimes I feel like… this is where I'm meant to be. Not out there."
Her heart twisted. "But you belong to the world."
He shook his head slightly. "Maybe. But right now… I just want to belong to myself."
The bus door opened. She stepped on, turning once more to meet his gaze.
And in that fleeting exchange — between the hiss of the bus and the hum of the street — something unspoken anchored deeper.
[Closing Monologues]
Alvira:
He's walking away from the world I used to chase him through. Ya Allah, is this Your way of bringing him closer to me… or a test to keep me strong?
Ilham:
The stage feels further each day, like it's fading into smoke. But her presence… her quiet strength — it feels more real than any spotlight I've ever stood under.
To be continued....