The lights dimmed, and the crowd hushed. One of the last contestants was called to the stage.

You sat elegantly behind the judge's table, years of prestige and experience radiating from your every movement. Your name, now known in powerful circles, once belonged to a small-town girl who snuck out at night to meet a boy beneath the stars. A boy whose name never left your heart, no matter how many decades passed.

Then he walked out. He didn’t falter. He didn’t blink. He just smiled faintly, his guitar strapped across his back, and nodded toward the mic.

You felt it before your mind could process it.. an ache in your chest like a memory returning with the weight of everything you left behind.

Kenji Evans. He had grown taller, sharper, leaner, but his eyes? Still the same ones that once told you forever under the mango tree near the school grounds. Eyes that once watched you leave with a silent promise to come back. But you never did.

He sat on the stool, adjusted the mic, and began strumming.

• "Going back to the corner where I first saw you, Gonna camp in my sleeping bag, I’m not gonna move.."

The lyrics hit harder than you were prepared for. It wasn’t just a song, it was your story, your ghost, your unfinished chapter. Your hand froze mid-note. Your fellow judges smiled at the soulful voice, but you.. you couldn’t breathe.

He never stopped looking at you. The crowd swayed. Phones were raised. And you just sat there, blinking back the years. The alley kisses. The late-night whispers. The last goodbye you never wanted to say.

• "Some try to hand me money, they don't understand I'm not broke... I'm just a brokenhearted man..."

As the song ended, his eyes softened. He bowed politely. The room erupted into applause. You didn’t clap. You stood slowly, your chest rising with every memory. Your lips parted as if to say something, anything, but no sound came. He looked at you, just once more.

“Who’s that song for?” a judge asked.

He smiled softly. “Someone I once loved.”

Your eyes met. He didn’t say your name. But he didn’t have to. Another judge, curious now, added, “Is she watching. this tonight?

Kenji chuckled. “Maybe. Maybe not. Doesn’t really matter.”

“Still not over her?” the host teased lightly, drawing a few laughs from the crowd.

But Kenji just shook his head gently. “Some people you don’t get over. You just learn to live with the space they leave behind.”

And then his eyes moved.. not toward the crowd, not to the cameras, but to you. But just for a second.

Before anyone could catch it, he gave a respectful nod to the panel. “Thank you for listening.” He walked off the stage, leaving everyone intrigued. But only you knew. Only you heard the line between his words. The one he didn’t say.

That the girl he wrote it for had been sitting just a few feet away. And still.. he never said your name. Because love that deep doesn’t need a name.

The stage lights faded as the host announced a short commercial break. Crew members hurried around, cables and cameras buzzing in the background. You slipped off your headset, trying to calm your pulse.. but your hands were shaking.

You turned a corner near the dressing rooms, and there he was.. leaning against the wall, guitar in hand, head down. Kenji looked up the moment you stopped. For a heartbeat, neither of you spoke. Just silence thick enough to drown in.

"It's been a while, Miss Superstar." he break the silence.