("The world called it a rumor. But to them, it was just a promise kept in silence.")
Months passed.
The noise faded, but not completely.
Some fans still whispered, some still shipped — #BetweenTheStars trended every few weeks, like an echo that refused to die.
But behind all the noise, something soft had grown.
Rian and Lira no longer needed words.
Sometimes it was just a small nod across a crowded hallway, a brief eye contact during award shows, or a quiet thank you exchanged backstage.
Sometimes, it was through music — lyrics that spoke for them when silence was safer.
On a cold evening in December, both SOLIS and LUNARIA were scheduled for the Year-End Harmony Awards — the same place their story had quietly begun.
Rian stood in the waiting area, hands in his pockets, heart strangely calm.
Their careers were at their peak now — sold-out tours, awards, endorsements — everything they had dreamed of when they were just tired trainees in dim practice rooms.
And yet, when he saw her enter, wearing a soft blue gown and that same peaceful smile, all of it disappeared.
It wasn't fame he saw anymore.
It was the girl who once gave hope to a boy who was losing it.
During the show, the camera caught them several times — polite smiles, brief glances, professional distance.
But when SOLIS won Song of the Year for "Between the Stars," the crowd roared.
Rian went up on stage with his members, accepted the trophy, and when it was his turn to speak, his voice softened.
"This song was written for those who helped us believe when we didn't believe in ourselves.
Sometimes, people come into your life quietly — they don't stay loud, they just… stay.
And that's enough."
He didn't say her name.
He didn't need to.
In the audience, Lira smiled — the kind of smile that said I heard you.
After the ceremony, the venue lights dimmed one last time.
The corridors were nearly empty when Rian found her again near the exit, wrapping her coat around her shoulders.
"Hey," he said softly.
She turned, a little surprised, but her smile came naturally. "You sang beautifully tonight."
He chuckled. "You always say that."
"Well," she teased, "you always do."
Silence lingered — not awkward, but full.
Snow began to fall again outside the glass doors, just like that night years ago.
"Funny," Rian murmured, "how everything started with a blanket."
"And a water bottle," Lira added, laughing quietly.
For a moment, they just looked at each other — two idols, two dreamers, two people who had carried each other through invisible ways.
Then, softly, Rian said,
"You know, I used to want to be bright enough for you to see me."
Lira tilted her head. "And now?"
He smiled — not shy, but peaceful.
"Now, I just want to walk beside you — even if no one's looking."
They didn't take a photo.
They didn't say goodbye dramatically.
They just walked out together — two silhouettes against the falling snow, quiet, steady, and free.
Somewhere behind them, fans would always speculate, videos would trend again, theories would rise.
But none of that mattered.
Because sometimes, the most beautiful stories aren't the loudest ones.
They're the quiet promises made between two hearts —
and kept, even when the lights fade.
✨ The End — Until the Lights Fade