The next evening came with a kind of sharpness Amira could feel in her lungs. The London air was chillier than usual, like the city had picked up on her internal atmosphere and decided to echo it. She stood backstage at Velvet Room, clutching the microphone like it was the only thing tethering her to the ground.
Luca was already on stage, wooing the crowd with his raspy voice and lazy charm, the sound of his guitar weaving through the smoke-lit air like silk. From behind the curtain, Amira watched him perform like she always did. But tonight, she couldn't focus on the usual flutter he stirred in her chest. Her eyes were scanning the audience.
Searching for a ghost.
Noah had texted again. Just once.
> "I miss you. I didn't know what I had until I lost it. Please… just talk to me."
She hadn't responded. Not yet. But the words had lodged themselves in her chest like splinters. And now, every time she stepped onto that stage, she half-expected to see him there. Waiting. Watching.
Haunting.
Her cue came like a whisper in the dark. Luca's voice softened, and the spotlight shifted. She stepped onto the stage, greeted by that familiar blend of applause and clinking glasses. A few gasps here and there—some people were already beginning to recognize her voice, her name. The broken girl who somehow stitched herself back together with melody.
Tonight, she wore a silky, deep green dress that draped off her shoulders, a color that made her skin glow under the stage lights. Her waist-length white hair was curled into waves that shimmered when she moved. She looked untouchable.
But inside?
A war.
Luca smiled at her as she approached. "You good?" he murmured, just low enough for only her to hear.
"Always," she lied.
He strummed the opening notes of their duet, and Amira let herself disappear into the rhythm. The song was sensual, bluesy, slow. It was a flirtation and a confession, written by someone who'd clearly suffered and survived it.
Their voices wove together like smoke—smooth, aching, undeniable.
And for a few minutes, everything else dissolved. Noah. The heartbreak. The betrayal. It didn't matter. It was just her and Luca, bathed in spotlight and melody, feeding off the electricity building between them.
But then her eyes flicked to the back of the crowd—and froze.
Noah.
He stood near the bar, dressed in black, his jaw clenched, eyes dark. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't clapping. He was just watching.
Amira faltered for half a breath.
Just a second. Barely noticeable. But Luca caught it.
He followed her gaze and tensed, his hand pausing on the guitar before picking the rhythm back up like nothing happened.
The rest of the song passed in a blur. Amira's smile was plastic. Her voice still gorgeous, but missing something—heart, maybe. Fear. Fury.
When the song ended, applause exploded, but her body felt like stone. She gave a soft nod and walked off stage, her heels clicking fast against the wood floor.
Luca followed her.
"Amira," he said the moment they were behind the curtain.
She didn't stop walking. "Don't. Not now."
He reached for her hand, pulling her gently to a halt. "You saw him."
"Of course I saw him. He was just standing there like he had every right to be here."
"He doesn't."
"I know." Her voice cracked, but she blinked back the emotion. "But that doesn't change anything, does it?"
They stood in silence for a beat. The sounds of the club faded behind the thick velvet drapes. Luca looked at her like she was a page he wanted to memorize—crease by crease, line by line.
"I'll make sure he doesn't bother you," he said softly.
Amira looked up at him, searching his eyes. "Why are you always trying to protect me?"
"Because someone should've done it a long time ago."
Her breath hitched. For a split second, she thought he was going to kiss her. And part of her—maybe a dangerous, aching part—wanted him to.
But instead, he let go of her hand.
"Go change," he said. "I'll walk you home."
The alley behind Velvet Room was quieter than usual. Only the low rumble of traffic and a flickering streetlamp accompanied Amira and Luca as they stepped out into the night. She had changed into a black hoodie and jeans, her hair tucked into the hood like a veil of anonymity.
But even in the dark, she could feel eyes.
Noah was waiting by the brick wall near the fire escape. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his coat, but there was no casualness in his posture. His stare was direct. Unapologetic. Burning.
Amira stopped a few feet away from him, her body tense but upright.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked, voice steady.
Luca stepped forward, but she reached an arm out, stopping him.
Noah's eyes flicked from her to Luca, then back again. "I wanted to see you. Talk. You wouldn't answer my messages."
"So you thought stalking my performance was the next best thing?"
"I didn't know how else to get to you. You blocked me. Ignored me."
"I was supposed to," she snapped. "That's what people do when they're hurt."
Noah flinched. "Amira, I made a mistake."
Her laugh was hollow. "Which one? Ghosting me? Breaking up with me in a damn bar? Or humiliating me in front of strangers when I flew across the ocean to see you?"
"I panicked!" he said, voice rising. "I didn't know how to handle it all. Things were moving too fast, and I—"
"You bailed," she cut in, eyes blazing. "You left me to pick up pieces I didn't even realize were broken until you dropped them on my doorstep."
Noah's expression twisted, like he wanted to argue—but he didn't. Because he couldn't. She was right, and they both knew it.
"I'm sorry," he said finally. "Really. I wasn't the man I should've been. But I'm trying to fix that now."
Her fists clenched at her sides. "You don't get to show up now just because you miss me."
"I love you," he said.
Those three words used to be music. Now they felt like static—loud and empty.
She swallowed hard. "You don't know what love is, Noah. Love doesn't vanish. It doesn't need an audience to perform. It's steady. It fights. You ran."
He stepped closer, but Luca was beside her in an instant, standing between them.
"You heard her," Luca said calmly but firmly. "You need to go."
Noah's eyes narrowed. "Of course. The new guy."
Amira moved forward again, placing her palm on Luca's chest—not to hold him back, but to steady herself.
"You don't get to ask questions about my life anymore," she told Noah. "You gave that up when you chose silence over me."
Noah looked at her, desperation crawling over his features. "I just want one more chance."
She shook her head. "You can read a book twice, Noah... but you can't change the ending."
Silence fell.
Noah exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. "So this is it?"
"This is closure," she replied. "Something I never got."
Then she turned, pulling Luca gently by the sleeve.
They walked away.
And Noah didn't follow.
Not this time.