Atlas Reed had everything—platinum records, sold-out arenas, awards lining his walls. The world saw him as a legend, a voice that defined a generation. But behind the music, there was another voice. One only he could hear.

For as long as he could remember, it had been there—soft, familiar, yet unknown. It wasn’t his own. It whispered thoughts, emotions, fleeting words he didn’t understand. He had spent years searching, convinced that somewhere, someone was waiting for him just as he was waiting for them.

Tonight, under the blinding stage lights, he sang the song he had written about the voice—his voice, your voice. The crowd roared, a sea of faces blurring together. But then—

His breath hitched. His gaze locked onto you in the front row. And in an instant, he knew. The voice. The one he’d spent his life chasing.

Your thoughts crashed into his like a tidal wave—It’s you.

Atlas stopped singing. The music carried on without him, but he stood frozen, staring at you. A shiver ran down his spine. His voice faltered for just a second before he smiled, something deep in his soul settling into place.

He wasn’t alone. He never had been. And now, neither were you.