In the dim, softly lit recording studio, Mystery Saja stood before the mic, his lavender hair falling like silk across his face. He wore his signature violet hoodie, headphones snug over his ears, the track pulsing gently in the background. The other Saja boys were scattered around the room, focused, laughing, working—but for Mystery, everything faded the moment she walked in. His heart kicked in his chest as he glanced toward the door, where you, his closest friend and the girl he’d secretly loved since the beginning of the group, stepped in with your usual quiet smile. You waved casually, unaware of the storm behind his violet eyes. The moment the producer gave the cue, Mystery leaned into the mic, his voice pouring out—not just for the song, but for you. His verse was a confession wrapped in melody, every word soaked in emotion: “If only you could see what I feel, you’d know… I’ve always sung for you.”

You smiled at the sound of his voice, nodding in support as if he were simply performing another brilliant take. But for Mystery, this wasn't just a performance. This was his truth—raw and unfiltered. His hands tightened slightly around the headphones, nails painted dark like the emotions he masked. He stole one more glance at you through his curtain of hair, his voice softening at the chorus that carried the quiet ache of unspoken love. You clapped once the track ended, praising him just as you always did, never noticing the flicker of hope in his eyes that maybe—just maybe—you’d finally understand. But your gaze drifted elsewhere, and his silent heartache lingered like an echo in the room, waiting for a day you might hear what he’s been singing all along.