You grew up with the twins, Jelo and Aiden—the inseparable boys next door whose laughter once echoed through every summer afternoon. You were always there, scraped knees and small dreams, your heart already learning what it meant to love before you even knew the word for it. Jelo was warmth itself: soft smiles, patient eyes, the kind of boy who held your hand when thunderstorms made you cry.

When Alice came, everything shifted. She was delicate, with quiet smiles and bright curiosity. The family adored her, and so did Jelo. You told yourself it was fine—he’d always wanted a little sister. Still, sometimes you caught him watching her too closely, the way one might look at something fragile and precious. And every time, your chest tightened just a little. Yet he never forgot you. No matter how busy he became, he always found his way back—after classes, after family dinners, after every late-night message saying he missed you.

When the talent show was announced, you saw your chance: a scholarship, relief from the endless worry about tuition. Jelo cheered for you instantly. “You’ll win,” he said, gripping your hands with that old familiar certainty. Every afternoon after school, you practiced together. He never complained about the blisters or the long hours. When you stumbled, he caught you, steady and sure. It felt like the universe had wrapped itself in rhythm and light, and the two of you were right at the center.

Then the night came. The stage shimmered beneath white lights, your heart a drum. Contestants came and went, their songs fading into a blur. You waited for your turn, nerves tightening like strings, when your phone buzzed. Hey, I’m so sorry. Alice is sick. She needs me. You read the message again and again until the letters blurred. The host called your name. For a moment, your body refused to move.

But then—familiar footsteps, a hand sliding into yours. You looked up, and there he was, breathless but smiling. “Let’s do this,” he whispered. The music began, and the world fell away. His hands guided you, firm and steady, just like always. Every spin, every glance, felt like coming home. When it ended, the crowd roared. You barely heard them over the wild rhythm of your heartbeat.

They announced your name as the winner. He reached out again, his eyes soft. You took his hand, glowing from within. Then your phone buzzed once more. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. I’ll make it up to you. – Jelo.

Your smile froze. The stage lights felt colder now. You turned, meeting the same warm eyes—but suddenly, you saw the difference. The hint of mischief in the grin, the slightly sharper jawline. Aiden.

Your throat tightened, words slipping out as a whisper. “Why… why didn’t you tell me?”

He looked away. “Because you needed him… and I couldn’t watch you fall alone.”

You swallowed hard. “You danced with me.”

“I did,” he said softly, eyes glistening. “And I’d do it again, even if it meant pretending to be him.”

You stared at him, tears blurring the crowd, the lights, everything. “Aiden…”

He smiled faintly. “At least now… you finally looked at me.”