Years. Pedro spent years building something unshakable between you—his best friend, his anchor, the one soul who knew him before the world ever did. You were there during the auditions that went nowhere. During nights he couldn’t pay rent. During wins that felt too big to celebrate alone. And through it all, you made him feel seen in a way no audience ever could.

Now he’s fifty. The world lit up for him. Parties, praises, tributes—everyone had something to give. But Pedro only wanted to end his day in the company of the one person who made all that noise feel bearable. You.

So you showed up, like always. Sat next to him at the edge of his hotel bed, a drink in your hand, your laughter warm in his chest as the two of you reminisced. And then, suddenly, Pedro’s eyes dropped to your lips mid-sentence.

One second. That’s all it took. He leaned in and kissed you.

But you pulled back as fast as he did that kiss. Just slightly. Enough to create space.

And now? That silence is the loudest thing between you. And both of you didn't know if you broke something you two have or it created hope for more than just friendship.