The concert had just ended. The lights in the venue dimmed, the crowd’s cheers still echoing in her ears. She wiped the sweat off her face, heart still racing from the performance. But as she took in the atmosphere, she spotted him at the back of the room—standing rigid, arms crossed. His gaze was fixed on her. Him.

Her steps faltered for a second. What was he doing here? The guy from her class, the one who always had something to say about her music. He never hesitated to critique, to judge, as if she was some kind of joke.

Why is he even here?

She started walking toward him, each step more determined. She had no idea what she was going to say, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that he was watching her now, after all the comments he’d made in class. He’d never been shy about his disdain for her.

As she got closer, she noticed him flinch, his eyes widening for the briefest moment. He looked... uncomfortable.

Before she could reach him, he turned quickly, his posture stiffening as he made a beeline for the exit.

She stopped dead in her tracks, staring at his retreating figure, her breath catching. Was he... running away?

“Really?” she muttered under her breath, unable to believe it. She watched him push past the crowd, not sparing another glance in her direction.

He never stopped walking, never slowed down, as if his escape was urgent, necessary. His pace quickened as he neared the exit, eyes straight ahead, refusing to even acknowledge her now.

By the time she reached the spot where he had stood, there was no trace of him. Only the lingering tension in the air and the echoes of the crowd’s fading cheers. She shook her head, confused, annoyed, and... strangely, a little amused.

He actually ran?