Chapter 4: Two souls. Connected by Music.

Morning crept into the house quietly, as if it were afraid to be noticed.

Mira woke before the alarm, her body already trained and use to rise early.

The thin curtains barely blocked the pale sunlight, and the air in her small room felt cold against her skin.

She lay still for a moment, staring at the cracked ceiling, counting the lines, pretending she was somewhere else. Somewhere far away. Somewhere she belonged.

Then the truth settled back on her chest.

She pushed herself up slowly. Her room was small and almost forgotten by the rest of the house. A narrow bed with a faded blanket. A wooden table with one uneven leg. A tiny mirror with a crack running through it, splitting her reflection in two.

Behind the door, carefully hidden where no one could see, was her most treasured possession.

De.King’s poster.

Her lips softened as her eyes traced his face. Sharp jawline. Calm, unreadable eyes. A smile that belonged to another world.

“Good morning,” she whispered softly.

She reached for her phone, slid in her earphones, and pressed play before the house could fully wake.

His voice filled her ears instantly—smooth, deep, familiar.

It wrapped around her heart like a quiet comfort, like a whisper from someone who understood without seeing her.

For a moment, she felt safe.

Then Rosey’s her stepmother voice cut through the quiet. like a thunderstorm.

“Miraaaa!”

Mira flinched.

Her heart jumped.

She pulled out the earphone, hurriedly standing. “Yes, ma,” she called, already moving.

She changed into a simple dress and hurried downstairs. The kitchen smelled of fried eggs and brewed coffee, but the warmth didn’t belong to her.

Rosey stood by the counter, perfectly dressed, hair flawless, eyes sharp.

Her expression was calm, but Mira had learned long ago that calm was just the surface. The storm always followed.

“You’re late,” Rosey said without looking up.

“I woke up early,” Mira replied softly.

Rosey slowly turned, her gaze slicing like glass.

“Then you should know better than to waste time.

Sweep the living room. Wash Tina’s plates. Iron her clothes for school,

And don’t miss a single crease. Or maybe you’d like me to remind you how useless you are?”

Mira lowered her head. “Yes, ma.”

“And Mira,” Rosey added, her lips curling, “if your work is sloppy, I’ll make sure your father notices. I don’t want my daughter’s life ruined because you can’t manage a broom.”

Mira’s chest tightened. She nodded. “Yes, ma.”

she literally does everything while Tina do nothing, Tina was only allow to go school while she stay at home doing cruel house chores. her father is not always around to witness anything when her father was around she ack as a perfect stepmother in front of him.

From the living room, Tina’s laughter floated in—bright, careless. Mira picked up the broom and began sweeping, her movements quiet, invisible.

“Did you see De.King last night?” Tina called out, flipping through her phone. “He was perfect! People fainted!”

Rosey her mother chuckled, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “Of course.

He’s a Lingard. Naturally, he’s flawless.”

Mira’s hand paused. Her mind went somewhere else, somewhere far away.

She remembered another voice in this house, soft and warm.

Mira, come here, my love.

Her mother.

Mrs. Stella had always smelled like lavender. She used to brush Mira’s hair every morning, humming softly. Even when the illness made her frail, her hands were gentle, her eyes shining.

No matter what happens, Mira, you are precious. Don’t let anyone make you feel small.

Mira’s chest ached.

Her mother had smiled even while weak. Even when Rosey appeared pretending to be a friend. Then she was gone. And Rosey had stayed.

Rosey’s next words were sharp, cutting deeper than any knife. “Are you daydreaming again?

You always remind me of your mother.

She was lazy too, you know. That’s why I had to pick up the slack. I swear, you’ll never amount to anything unless you work like Tina. Look at her—she’s perfect.”

Mira swallowed hard. “Yes, ma.” inside her mind she knows Tina and her Step mother are the lazy one's.

The word “useful” stung. But Mira gritted her teeth. She had learned to survive in silence.

After Tina left for school, Mira finished the chores quietly, her hands cracked from the work, her shoulders aching. She returned upstairs, moving like a ghost, as if the world might forget she existed.

Her room welcomed her with silence.

She sank onto her bed, hugging her knees. Her phone buzzed with notifications, but she ignored them. Instead, she opened the concert clips from last night, replaying them over and over.

Lights. Screams. Then him.

De.King.

Standing alone on the stage. Strong. Untouchable. Flawless. And yet… something was missing.

Mira’s breath caught.

She didn’t know that while she watched him through a cracked phone screen, he had walked off that stage feeling empty. She didn’t know that while she dreamed of him, he despised the world that adored him.

Two souls. Connected by music.

Separated by reality.

Her fingers brushed over a small silver locket around her neck—her mother’s gift. Inside was a tiny photo of Mrs Stella smiling, holding her as a baby.

Mira held it tightly, letting the memory fill her chest.

Her mother’s words whispered back: You are precious. Don’t let anyone make you feel small.

Mira let out a shaky breath.

“He doesn’t even know I exist,” she whispered. “And that’s okay.”

A faint smile curved her lips. Tears threatened to fall, but she swallowed them down. She let her earphones slip back in, De.King’s voice wrapping around her once again.

Because loving him… was safe.

From afar.

Silent.

Unreachable.

For now.