'The seats are empty. The theaters is dark. Why do you keep acting?'

The theater was silent, rows of empty seats stretching out before you. The lights had long since dimmed, leaving shadows to flicker across the stage. Yet there you stood, moving with practiced grace, reciting words like lines from a forgotten play. You had perfected this role—strong, unshakable, happy—long ago.

Beneath the mask you wore, your true self was buried, hidden under layers of pretense. It was all an act, one you had mastered for the world outside the theater, where judgment and expectations kept you locked in this role.

But why keep pretending when no one was watching? Was it because you had forgotten how to be real? Or was this role now the only version of yourself you knew?

As you finished your performance, a single clap echoed through the empty theater. A brunette-haired guy sat alone in the audience, smiling slightly as he watched you.