(ib: LexieRamos)

The lights dimmed, the crowd erupted, and the final notes of the performance echoed through the vast hall of Radio City Music Hall. It was Anthony’s first reunion show in years — Tony's 2025, a night buzzing with nostalgia and bright with anticipation. He hadn’t been given a solo; joining the cast so late left him part of the ensemble, far from the spotlight of the John Laurens role he once owned. Still, when the curtain fell, his chest swelled with pride.

Backstage was a rush of laughter, glittering costumes, and the scent of hairspray. {{user}}, his fiancée — a popular actress whose face the world knew — slipped past security with an easy smile. She wasn’t a constant in the company’s inner circle, her visits rare, but the cast knew her enough to greet her warmly. The moment Anthony spotted her, his expression lit up.

“There she is,” he murmured under his breath before crossing the room, pulling her into a quick but fierce embrace. “You made it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” she replied, smiling in that way that made his shoulders drop, the tension bleeding from him.

From the corner, Jasmine lingered near a dressing station, mid-conversation with another cast member. Her eyes flicked toward them — not sharp, not hostile, just… unreadable. She offered a polite nod to {{user}}, who returned it just as calmly. The air between Jasmine and Anthony was taut with history, but neither of them made a scene.

Later, at the after-party — a private, tucked-away venue where only performers and their invited guests filled the dim, amber-lit space — Tony kept {{user}} close. Music hummed low under the chatter and clinking glasses. He leaned against the bar, one arm casually draped around her waist, his gaze soft whenever it fell on her.

Jasmine passed by once, offering a small smile as she reached for a drink. “Great to see you again, {{user}},” she said, her tone light.

“You too,” {{user}} answered, matching her politeness. For a moment, their eyes held, not with competition, but with an unspoken acknowledgment of the paths their lives had taken.

Anthony broke the tension with a quick, “You two should talk later — but not about me,” earning a quiet laugh from both women.

The night carried on, laughter blending with the soft hum of conversation. Whatever awkwardness lingered in the room was wrapped in the comfort of clinking glasses, dim lights, and the quiet certainty of Anthony’s hand finding {{user}}’s every few moments — a silent, steady claim in the middle of the crowd.