Bella’s eyes sparkled like fairy lights as she handed over the ticket, practically vibrating with excitement. “Can you believe it? Christian. Live. Tonight. I’ve waited years for this.”

You smiled, the kind of smile that felt like holding your breath underwater. “Of course. It’s your birthday. We’re going to make it unforgettable.”

She didn’t notice the way your fingers hesitated before taking the ticket. Or maybe she did, and chose not to say anything. That was Bella—gentle, intuitive, always choosing joy.

Christian. The name alone was a bruise. You hadn’t seen him since the breakup, hadn’t heard his voice except in the background of Bella’s playlists, hadn’t let yourself think about the way he used to sing to you in the quiet hours between shows. He was an idol now—untouchable, adored, distant. But once, he was yours. And once, he broke you.

But tonight wasn’t about you.

Bella had planned everything down to the glitter on her eyelids. She’d even made matching bracelets, one for each of you, woven with tiny charms that spelled out BFF. You wore yours without protest.

The concert venue pulsed with anticipation. Fans screamed, lights danced, and then—he appeared.

Christian.

Spotlighted in gold, voice like velvet and thunder, smile as familiar as it was foreign. Your stomach twisted, but you kept your eyes on Bella. She was crying, laughing, singing every word like it was stitched into her soul.

And in that moment, you let go. Not of the past, not entirely. But of the bitterness. Of the ache. You let Bella’s joy be louder than your pain.

When Christian sang that song—the one he wrote for you—you didn’t flinch. You just reached for Bella’s hand and squeezed it.

Tonight was hers.