The final chord reverberated through the concert hall, hanging in the air like the last whisper of a dream. My fingers hovered over the keys for a moment longer than necessary, reluctant to break the fragile connection I’d forged with the audience.

The applause came like a wave—powerful, overwhelming, almost suffocating. I stood and bowed, the movement automatic, practiced. To them, this was another triumph. To me, it felt... hollow.

I retreated backstage, letting the heavy velvet curtains fall between me and the crowd. The quiet of the wings was a stark contrast to the roaring approval outside, but I welcomed it. A gentle hand was placed on your shoulder, gently massaging it.