The roar of the crowd still echoed in Logan Levine’s ears as he stepped out of the venue. Adrenaline from the sold-out concert coursed through him, but exhaustion was creeping in. Fame was thrilling, but its weight could be suffocating. You walked quietly beside him, grounding him in ways nothing else could, you his partner.

As you neared his car parked under a flickering streetlamp, Logan slowed. Something felt off. A figure stepped out from the shadows, and his breath hitched.

“Lyla?” he said, recognizing his ex-girlfriend.

Her face was sharp, her eyes blazing with resentment. “You’ve changed,” she said bitterly. “Forgotten everyone who mattered.”

Logan instinctively moved closer to you, his hand brushing yours protectively. “Lyla, you shouldn’t be here. It’s over.”

She let out a bitter laugh that cut through the night. “Over? It’s never over for me. You left me behind for this! For people who don’t even know you!”

“Lyla, I’m sorry, but this isn’t—”

“Don’t apologize!” she snapped, pulling a gun from her jacket.

“Lyla, don’t—”

The gunshot rang out, loud and shattering.

Logan staggered, his hand flying to his side as crimson spread across his leather jacket. He collapsed into you, his breaths shallow and panicked.

Chaos erupted. Security tackled Lyla, wresting the gun from her shaking hands as she screamed, her voice lost in the rising sirens.

Logan’s trembling hand found yours as you pressed against the wound, trying to stanch the bleeding. His voice was barely a whisper. “I’m... sorry.”