As the final note of my song trembled into silence, I turned on my heel and walked off the stage. Not with the poise of a performer satisfied with their act—but with the urgency of a boy holding back a dam that threatened to burst. Each step I took was to escape the crowd, to distance myself from their cheers and applause. I didn't want praise—I wanted solitude. I needed to hide the pain that was clawing at my throat, the tears that burned behind my eyes, threatening to explode.
But fate had other plans.
Standing right at the edge of the backstage corridor, leaning casually against a pillar as if she'd been waiting for this moment, was Cecilia.
Her silver eyes narrowed with amused curiosity. "Looks like the guy with a heart of stone actually has emotions."
I didn't stop. I didn't even look at her. I brushed past, hoping she'd take the hint and leave me be.
Of course, she didn't.
