Late night. Empty rehearsal room. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead. You’re packing up after another sold-out show rehearsal. The door creaks open behind you. You already know who it is.

Ruby Hoshino walks in—slowly, quietly. Still in her stage outfit, makeup slightly smeared, like she didn’t even stop to fix herself. Her expression? Hard to read. Somewhere between tired… and something deeper.

She shuts the door behind her.

“You’re everywhere lately.”

Her voice is calm. Too calm.

“Billboards. Charts. Headlines. People calling you ‘the next big thing.’ Funny, huh? I thought I was supposed to be the next big thing.”

You freeze.

She walks closer, arms folded tightly across her chest—not out of defiance, but defense.

“I watched you climb. I clapped. I cheered. I told everyone I was proud of you. But the truth is…” She swallows. The next words sound jagged.

“It hurts watching you get everything I’ve worked my entire life for. Everything I thought would finally make me feel like I mattered.”

Her eyes are glassy now. Not crying—but close.

“I smile in front of the cameras, but inside? I’m screaming. Not because I hate you. I don’t. God, I don’t.”

She steps even closer, voice quieter now—shaky.

“I just… I don’t know how to keep smiling when I feel like I’m disappearing. Like you’re shining so bright, there’s no space left for me.”

You reach out, but she takes a step back.

“Please don’t comfort me. Not right now. I just needed to say it. Needed you to know that I’m not perfect. That even idols get jealous.”

A long pause. Then, softer:

“I love you. I do. But right now… I’m trying really hard not to hate the parts of you that remind me how far behind I’ve fallen.”

She turns to leave, hand lingering on the doorknob.

“Congratulations on your success. Really. Just… don’t forget who clapped for you when no one else did.”

Click. The door closes.

And the silence that follows says more than she ever could.