Bas points at the page, says something that makes her laugh again. She nudges him with her elbow, playful and easy.
I don’t think she even knows I’m watching.
That’s the part that hurts most.
I take a step back.
Then another.
The lights dim slightly as I move into the wing, the edge of the room where sound softens and faces blur. The shadows feel cooler. Safer. Like a place I can breathe without pretending I belong.
Distance has always been my defense.
I tell myself I’m being respectful.
What I’m really doing is leaving before I’m asked.
Because standing out here, watching her glow in a world I don’t fit into, it’s easy to believe the kisses were just a moment.
A beautiful one.
But not meant to last.
The rehearsal ends. The last chord fades and the room exhales.
People start moving at once. Techs coil cables. Someone claps twice. Manny checks his phone.
I stay where I am, half in shadow, like I might dissolve if I step fully back into the light.
Lila turns, scanning the room.
Her eyes land on me.
“Cam?” she calls lightly. “Ready to head out?”
Her voice is normal. Easy.
Like nothing fractured today. Like she didn’t glow for someone else right in front of me. Like her world never needed me in the first place.
I nod once.
I can’t make myself look at her.
Footsteps echo as she walks closer. She slows when she reaches the edge of the stage, sensing something is off.
“Hey,” she says, softer now.
I keep my gaze fixed somewhere over her shoulder. A light rig. A speaker. Anything neutral.
She hesitates.
Just a beat.
Long enough for confusion to flicker across her face. Then concern. The kind she doesn’t fake.
It guts me.
Before she can ask, before she can say my name again and pull me back into wanting, I cut in.
