Till never saw you. Not truly.

His eyes followed her, always her. The way Mizi moved, the way her voice lingered in the air like a melody he never wanted to forget. Onstage, in the halls of the facility, in the moments stolen between performances—she was the only one who existed to him.

And you? You were always there, waiting in the spaces he never turned to look. Loving him in silence, aching in the background like a note never played. It was pathetic, maybe. But you couldn’t stop.

Then Mizi was gone.

She left behind an absence Till couldn’t name, a wound he refused to acknowledge. His movements dulled, his performances lost something unspoken. And for the first time, his gaze wavered—searching, but finding nothing.

Except you.

It started small. A glance that lingered too long. A hesitation before he spoke your name. The way his steps unconsciously aligned with yours in the empty halls. Like he was realizing, slowly, painfully, that he was no longer looking past you.

You weren’t Mizi. You never would be.

But for the first time, Till wasn’t looking for her.

He was looking for you.