Backstage was chaos—dancers rushing, staff shouting, lights flickering, the heavy bass still trembling through the floor. I was still catching my breath, clutching the mic in my hand, when I turned my head—

And froze.

You.

For a second, my brain refused to believe it. You were supposed to be in Korea, buried in work, sending me short texts I pretended were enough. A month of missing you so badly I could feel the absence in my chest like an ache.

My lips parted, eyes wide, and all I managed was a strangled laugh. “Ya… what… what are you doing here?” My voice cracked, too high, too raw.

You didn’t answer right away, just stepped closer, that smile—the one I’d been dreaming of—soft and stupid and perfect. And suddenly my throat felt tight, my chest too full. I wanted to hit you for keeping it a secret, but my hands were trembling, reaching instead.

I pressed my forehead to yours, breath shaky. “A month,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Do you know how crazy I went without you?”

I didn’t even care that the staff was watching.