And now there’s a moment of silence. A brief clarity as I stare out into the sea of spotlights. I zero in on the magnitude of it all.
One heartbeat. Two.
Then the world explodes.
The roar hits me like a physical force—a wall of sound that vibrates through my chest and steals the breath from my lungs. A buffalo herd of people on their feet, screaming, clapping,crying. The noise is so loud it becomes its own kind of silence, a white-hot rush of approval that drowns out everything else.
I stand center stage, chest heaving, sweat dripping down my temples, and I let it wash over me. The lights. The sound. The overwhelming, impossible love pouring from every corner of this arena.
They showed up. Despite everything. Despite Grayson’s poison and the tabloid headlines and the internet’s cruelty. They showed up, and they stayed, and now they’re on their feet telling me it was worth it.
I wasn’t sure this would happen. In that bathtub this morning, running disaster simulations, I imagined a hundred different versions of tonight. Hecklers drowning out my vocals. Signs with cruel messages held up in the crowd. A cold, polite reception that would confirm every fear I’ve ever had about being unlovable once people saw the real me.
Instead, I got this.
My dancers surround me, faces split with matching grins. Mia grabs my hand, squeezing hard, tears streaming down her cheeks. Kenny pulls me into a sweaty side hug, laughing into my ear. The backup vocalists are bouncing, high-fiving each other, basking in the glow of what we just accomplished together.
It was our best show yet. Not because the choreography was flawless or the vocals were pitch-perfect—though they were,they really were—but because something shifted tonight. Some invisible barrier between me and the audience crumbled, and for the first time in my career, I wasn’t performingatthem. I was sharingwiththem.
That’s what Taio’s note said. Today’s selection from my box of paper hearts.
You’re not performing for them. You’re sharing yourself with them. There’s a difference.
He was right. He’s always right.
I turn toward the wings, searching through the chaos of stagehands and crew members until I find him. He’s standing just offstage, exactly where he promised he’d be, and he’s cheering harder than anyone here. His hands are cupped around his mouth, amplifying his voice, and even though I can’t hear the specific words over the roar of the crowd, I can read his lips.
That’s my girl.
My heart splits wide open, raw and real and unstoppable.
My feet are moving before I make the conscious decision. I’m running across the stage toward the wings, my heels abandoned somewhere near the drum kit, my bare feet slapping against the smooth surface of the stage. The crowd’s cheers shift, confused, curious, as they watch me sprint toward the shadows.
Taio’s eyes go wide when he realizes what I’m doing. He shakes his head, holds up his hands, mouths something that looks likeCharlie, don’t—but I’m already there, my fingers closing around his wrist, and I’m pulling him into the light.
He resists for exactly half a second. Then he lets me lead him, stumbling slightly, onto the stage.
The jumbotron catches us immediately. Our faces, twenty feet tall, projected onto screens throughout the arena. Taio freezes in the spotlight, his shoulders hunched toward his ears, hands dangling awkwardly at his sides like they’ve suddenly grown too heavy for his arms—a deer caught not just in headlights but in the collective gaze of thirty thousand pairs of eyes.
But while he’s nervous, I’ve never been more sure and confident in my life.
I reach up, cup his face in my palms, and I kiss him. PG-style.
It’s not a long kiss. It’s not a passionate, movie-style declaration. It’s soft and sweet and simple—a press of lips that says everything I’ve been too scared to say out loud.I choose you. In front of everyone. No more hiding.
The crowd loses its damn mind.
The noise is somehow even louder than before—a tsunami of screams and whistles and stomping feet that shakes the stage beneath us. I pull back from the kiss and look up at Taio, and his expression has shifted from terror to wonder, like he can’t quite believe this is really happening.
“Hi,” I say, though he can’t possibly hear me over the chaos.
“Hi,” he mouths back. Then, quieter, just for me: “You’re unhinged.”
“You love it.”
“I loveyou.”
The words hit different when they’re said on a stage in front of thousands of witnesses. They hit like a promise. Like a vow. Like the beginning of something that can’t be taken back.
