Chapter 3 - The stage is silent

You know how sometimes life has a cruel sense of humor? Like, you think you’ve finally gotten over something, and then boom! it shows up right in your face, bigger and louder than ever.

That was me that night.

I walked back into the hall after the balcony scene, pretending like nothing had just happened. My smile was plastered on, the kind that says, I’m fine, everything’s fine, please stop looking at me. The cameras flashed, people laughed, champagne glasses clinked. On the outside, I looked like the star who had it all together.

But inside? My hands were shaking, and I could barely swallow past the knot in my throat.

And no matter how much I told myself not to look for him, my eyes betrayed me. They kept sliding back to one corner of the room. And there he was.

He stood surrounded by people, as usual. Laughing, charming, making the whole world lean in like he was telling them a secret. And then because the universe hates me, immediately his eyes found mine.

It was like the noise in the room dropped. Just his gaze, pulling me in like a magnet I wanted to hate but couldn’t ignore.

And then the host’s voice boomed over the speakers:

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a surprise performance tonight!”

The crowd went wild, phones shot into the air, flashes blinded me. And who else but him walked on stage?

Of course.

He adjusted the microphone with that same confidence, like the spotlight belonged to him. The first chord strummed, and my stomach dropped straight to the floor.

I knew that song.

Not just knew it. I wrote it.

Every lyric, every note, every emotion, It was mine. My heart in the shape of a melody. And now here he was, standing under the lights, owning it like he created it out of thin air.

I froze. My chest burned. I was back in that tiny apartment, papers scattered across the table, his arm around me, his lips brushing mine as he promised we’d rise together. I could still hear his voice telling me I was his muse.

And here he was, stealing my voice again.

The worst part? The crowd loved him. They swayed, they clapped, they screamed like he was giving them a gift. They didn’t know they were cheering for my pain dressed up in his performance.

And then, he looked at me.

Right in the middle of the song. His eyes locked on mine, and the lyrics shifted in his mouth until they felt like they were meant just for me.

People noticed. Oh, they noticed. Heads turned, whispers started, and soon every phone camera in the place was pointing between him and me.

And then he had the audacity to add it. That one word.

“Cariño.”

It wasn’t even in the lyrics. He threw it in, smooth and deliberate, like a dagger with sugar on it.

My chest burned so bad I thought I might actually be sick. Anger, humiliation, heartbreak, everything hit at once.

The song ended, the hall exploded with applause, and he bowed like a king. His smile smug, his eyes still locked on me like I was his trophy.

I turned and walked out. My heels hit the marble floor hard, echoing like gunshots. My manager called my name, reporters shouted questions, but I didn’t stop.

The doors opened, and the cold night air hit me like freedom.

Except freedom lasted about five seconds.

“Miss! Miss! Just a word!”

Of course, the reporters had followed me. Microphones shoved into my face, cameras flashing like I was prey cornered by hunters.

“Were those lyrics about you?”

“Are you two getting back together?”

“Did you write that song for him?”

I didn’t say a single word. Silence is sometimes louder than speaking, and right then, silence was my shield. I got into the waiting car, slammed the door, and shut the world out.

Finally. Quiet.

But quiet is dangerous. Because in the quiet, the memories get loud.

His laugh. His guitar. His kisses. His lies.

I pressed my hands to my temples. Don’t let him see you break, I told myself. My reflection stared back at me from the tinted window. Perfect hair. Perfect lipstick. Perfect mask. To the world, I was flawless. But inside, I was falling apart all over again.

My phone buzzed in my lap.

I glanced down, and there it was.....already making headlines. “Reunion Sparks Rumors: Star Dedicates Song to Former Muse.”

I laughed, but it came out hollow. Of course. Less than an hour and he’d managed to twist the story. His version. His control. And once again, my voice was missing from it.

But not this time.

Not anymore.

I leaned back in the seat, my fists tightening. The fire in me didn’t feel like heartbreak anymore. It felt like fuel.

He thought he could pull me back into his orbit with one performance. That he could claim me again with one song.

But he didn’t know me anymore.

This wasn’t the end.

This was the start of my war.

And this time, cariño… I wouldn’t lose. I'll make sure he pays dearly for everything

But he didn’t know me anymore. This wasn’t the end, this was the start of my war.

And this time, cariño… I wouldn’t lose.

Because if he thought stealing my song was the biggest mistake he ever made, he was wrong. His biggest mistake was letting me rise. Now he was about to learn something he’d never imagined........what it feels like when the girl you buried comes back stronger, sharper, and ready to bury you instead.

But he didn’t know me anymore.

This wasn’t the end.

This was the start of my war.

And this time, cariño… I wouldn’t lose.

I didn’t know how, not yet. Maybe on a stage, maybe behind the scenes, maybe in ways he wouldn’t see coming until it was too late. But I promised myself one thing that night, staring out the car window at the flashing lights behind me, I would make him regret underestimating me. And when I did, the whole world would be watching.