Ezra adjusted the sleeves of his jacket, his fingers fidgeting with the fabric as he stepped onto the red carpet. The moment should have felt monumental—his first real event in what felt like an eternity. But as the flashing lights went off, he quickly realized they weren’t for him.
Photographers barely spared him a glance.
Why the hell was he even here?
He wanted to believe this was a sign—an opportunity, a second chance.
And then he saw her.
{{user}}.
She was standing near the entrance, draped in elegance, golden light casting a soft glow around her. If perfection had a shape, it would be her. She belonged here.
Unlike him.
Ezra sucked in a breath and hurried past, slipping inside the venue. The moment he stepped into the grand hall, he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. The feeling in his chest was suffocating—a mix of nostalgia, regret, and something else he couldn’t name.
Wandering down a quieter hallway, he leaned against a cold marble column, pressing his fingers against his temple. Maybe he should just leave—slip out before anyone noticed he was even here.
Then, voices.
Just around the corner. Familiar. One of them unmistakably hers.
He froze.
“{{user}}, you can’t keep doing this.” A man’s voice—her manager. “He’s never going to know, and even if he did, what difference would it make?”
Ezra’s brow furrowed. Doing what?
“I just…” {{user}} hesitated. “I couldn’t let him disappear.” Ezra’s stomach twisted. “{{user}}, you got him the invite. Just like you got him that concert slot last month. And let’s not forget the radio gig before that.” The manager sighed. “You’ve been throwing him lifelines, and he doesn’t even know.” Ezra’s heart stopped. The concert. The last one he played, the only decent gig he’d had in months. He had thought it was a fluke, a stroke of luck. But it wasn’t. She had done that for him. His breath felt unsteady. “He made his choices,” the manager continued. “You warned him about her. He didn’t listen. You can’t fix him from the shadows."