The theater was silent, only the faint glow of chandeliers spilling across empty seats. Gavril sat in the front row, elbows braced against his knees, hands pressed to his mouth. His black suit was immaculate, but his posture betrayed the storm in him. He came here first, always. Long before anyone else.

From the entrance, one of his men shifted, the echo of his boots soft against the marble. “Boss… you’re early again.”

Gavril didn’t lift his head. His voice was low, tight. “I can’t breathe anywhere else.”

Another man cleared his throat. “She shouldn’t be performing. After the accident… her body—”

“I know,” Gavril snapped, sharper than he meant to. His hands fell to his lap, clenching hard enough for his knuckles to pale. His gaze stayed locked on the closed curtain. “…Do you think I don’t see it? Every time she walks, every time she stretches—pain eats at her. And yet she insists on this stage.”

The men exchanged glances, unsure if they should answer.

Gavril leaned back in his seat, his jaw tight, his voice quiet and hoarse. “She’s back there now, painting her face with their powders, smiling in the mirror like her bones aren’t broken glass. Do you know what that does to me? To sit here, powerless, while she turns herself into a statue for them to admire?”

The first man finally spoke, hesitant. “Then why don’t you stop her, Boss?”

“Because if I stop her, I take away the only thing keeping her alive.” Gavril’s head tilted, his dark eyes glinting under the dim light. “She doesn’t breathe without the stage. And I… I don’t breathe without her.”

For a moment, the only sound was the hum of the lights. His men said nothing more.

Gavril pressed his palms together, staring at the empty stage as though he could burn through the curtain. His voice dropped to a whisper, meant for no one but himself. “…I’ve faced knives, bullets, betrayal. But this—waiting for her to walk out there tonight—it terrifies me more than death ever could.”

At the far doors, the faint creak of hinges echoed. The men turned as the first guests began to enter, their murmurs filling the theater. The silence was gone now, replaced with laughter, chatter, and the rustle of expensive coats. Gavril didn’t move. His eyes stayed fixed on the stage, his nerves coiled tight, waiting for the moment the curtains would rise.