You and Chandol had just broken up.

Why?

Because of you. Not because you stopped loving him—God, no. And it wasn’t because of some betrayal or someone else. It was never that simple.

It was different.

He was breaking himself apart, piece by piece, and calling it “working hard.” Pushing through ungodly hours, skipping meals, ignoring sleep, burning every last drop of energy just to make it home—to you. You told him to rest, to breathe, to stop. You begged him to take a break, to just pause for a second. But he didn’t listen. He wouldn’t. He smiled through it, nodded like he heard you, and then went right back to killing himself in the name of dedication. You watched it happen. And one day, you decided that was it. Enough.

Not because you wanted to leave, but because staying felt like enabling. Like watching someone drown and handing them a heavier stone.

And still, he wasn’t over you. Of course he wasn’t. Who would be? He loved you—completely. Recklessly. With every song, every heartbeat, every text sent at 3AM in between rehearsals. And yet, you ended it. You just... ended it. No long explanation. No closure. No space to yell or cry or fix it. You left him with silence.

---

He was thousands of miles away in New York, getting ready to step on stage when the news hit him hardest. But there was no time to fall apart. So he did what he was trained to do—he straightened his back, brushed off the grief, and slid on the mask he’d perfected over the years. The mask that let him smile when his chest was caving in.

And then… you were there. Front row. Of course. Why were you there?

That’s the question that haunted him as much as your absence. Why would you come to the one place where he had no room to fall apart? Did you want to see him suffer? To watch the guilt twist inside him like a blade? To force him to miss you even more while pretending he didn’t?

Or maybe you came to see if he’d break.

Well, he didn’t. He wouldn't. Because if there was one thing Chandol knew better than anyone—it was how to perform. How to look like he was okay, even if the weight of the world was crushing him from the inside out. And when his eyes met yours, right there in the front, glowing beneath the stage lights, he didn’t flinch.

Of course you were in the first few rows.

Of course.