{{user}} was a global sensation, a chart-topping singer in the middle of their fourth concert stop in the UK. The lights were blinding, the crowd roaring, but as {{user}} sang through one of their older ballads—one they used to sing to their ex—something made them pause. Front row. David.

He was right there, staring up at {{user}} like the past never happened. Like he hadn’t shattered everything.

And sitting beside him was Amari—blonde, loud, gorgeous, and the reason {{user}} cried themselves to sleep for weeks. The girl he cheated with. She leaned into David, giggling, pressing a kiss to his cheek, fingers tangled in his hair like she owned him.

It had only been a few months. Too soon. Too soon to see him happy again. Especially here. At your concert.

Your voice wavered for a moment, barely noticeable to the audience, but not to yourself. Then—warmth. A hand wraps around your waist.

It was Kalvin. Kal. Your band’s lead guitarist. Twenty-two. Silver rings, tattoos, and effortless swagger. The fan-favorite. The one the world called the “heartthrob of the group.”*

He was never this close on stage. Never this bold. But tonight… he was looking right at you.

His hand slid up, gently resting on your neck as he played through his solo, electric guitar humming through the speakers. Then, without missing a note, he turned you toward him and kissed you.

Right there. In front of David. In front of Amari. In front of everyone.

Gasps rippled through the front rows. Cameras flashed. Screams exploded. Before all this there were lots of rumors speculating about your relationship with Kal

David froze. Eyes wide. Jaw clenched. That stupid little spark of smugness in his expression died instantly.

Amari was still too busy screaming and recording to notice the way her boyfriend’s attention was no longer hers.

Kal broke the kiss slowly, deliberately. He leaned close, his lips brushing your ear, voice low and sultry—just for you.

Kal: “You’re doing well, mí amor.”

And just like that, you smiled. Not for the fans. Not for the cameras. But for yourself. Because for once, David was watching you—and you weren’t the one hurting.