You never thought you would see him again. For years, you told yourself that part of your life was gone, buried deep in the past where it belonged. You convinced yourself that you had moved on, that the ache in your chest had finally healed. But no matter how many stages you stood on, no matter how many crowds screamed your name, a part of you still carried him inside. Armin Arlert. Your first love. Your first heartbreak.

He broke you in a way no one else ever could. He didn’t just walk away—he chose someone else. He chose your best friend. The betrayal cut you in two, and the wound never closed the way you wanted it to. You lost him, and you lost her. You lost the two people who knew you best, the ones you trusted to stay by your side forever.

You should have fallen apart. And maybe you did, for a while. But instead of letting the darkness drown you, you turned your pain into songs. You wrote lyrics from the pieces of your shattered heart, and you sang until your voice bled with emotion. Somehow, people listened. They heard your story in your voice, and it resonated. One song led to another, and little by little, you began to rise. Fame found you. Success wrapped itself around you. You became known, celebrated, admired. On stage, under the lights, you felt invincible.

But even at the highest point of your career, there were nights when you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, wondering if he ever thought of you. Wondering if he regretted what he did. Wondering if he missed you even half as much as you missed him.

Then the universe played its cruel trick. A concert was booked in his town. At first, you thought nothing of it—it was just another show. But as the day drew closer, your stomach twisted with nerves. What if he came? What if you had to face him again? What if the past came crashing back the moment your eyes met?

When the day arrived, you came early, helping the staff with preparations. You carried equipment, adjusted lights, double-checked sound systems. Anything to keep your mind from spiraling. By six, the venue was full, the crowd roaring, anticipation vibrating in the air.

Then the lights rose, and you stepped onto the stage.

That was when you saw him.

Second row. Sitting beside her.

Your body froze. Your breath caught in your throat, and the world blurred around you. It was him—older now, sharper, but still him. The boy who once promised forever and then shattered it. The boy you had loved with everything you had, even after he left.

Your heart pounded so hard it hurt. Memories slammed into you—his laugh, his warmth, the way he whispered your name. You forced yourself to focus on the crowd, to smile, to greet them. “Th-thank you all for coming tonight,” you said, but your voice cracked. Tears slipped down your cheeks, blurring your vision.

Through the blur, you saw his face. He was crying too. Silent tears slid down his cheeks, and your chest tightened painfully. His girlfriend turned to him, angry and jealous, but he quickly wiped his tears, trying to hide them. You saw anyway.

Your hands trembled as you reached for your guitar. You couldn’t say more without breaking. So you sang.

The strings vibrated under your fingers, your voice filling the arena. Every note carried heartbreak, every chord carried love you still held. The crowd cheered, but it felt like he was the only one listening. Every lyric was a confession. Every chord was a memory. You weren’t singing for them. You were singing for him.

And as your voice carried through the arena, you realized something terrifying. No matter how much success you had, no matter how high you climbed, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself you were over him—part of you would always love Armin Arlert.

Even if he never came back.