2wo

Narrator

Lisa leaned against the door of the shared hotel room, her arms crossed as she stared at Jisoo with a mix of irritation and disbelief. The cool air from the air conditioner did little to calm her simmering annoyance. Jisoo, on the other hand, sat cross-legged on her bed, clutching a pillow like a guilty child caught in the act.

"Do you even think before you speak?" Lisa asked, her voice low but laced with exasperation.

Jisoo winced, hugging the pillow tighter. "I know, I know! I messed up, okay? My tongue just slipped. I didn't mean to bring it up in front of Jennie."

Lisa pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes in frustration. "You didn't mean to? Jisoo, you practically handed her a clue about my life on a silver platter! Do you realize how hard I've worked to keep that part of my life private? And now, you're casually hinting at it like it's some fun fact?"

"I said I'm sorry!" Jisoo shot back, her tone defensive but tinged with regret. "I didn't even say anything specific. I didn't tell her about your fights or the loan sharks or anything important!"

Lisa dropped her hand, glaring at Jisoo. "But you didn't have to say anything specific, Jisoo. You gave her enough to start wondering, and that's already too much. Do you know what could happen if people like Jennie—or anyone else—knew about my situation?"

Jisoo's face softened, and her defensiveness melted into guilt. "I know it's bad, okay? I wasn't thinking. I just... I get carried away sometimes. I'm sorry."

Lisa sighed heavily, running a hand through her short hair. The room felt stifling despite the cool air. "Look, Jisoo, I took this job because I didn't have a choice. My fight isn't for another month, and I'm out of cash. Every single won from my three jobs goes straight to those loan sharks. If I don't keep up the payments, they'll come after me. They've already threatened me more times than I can count."

Jisoo frowned, her grip on the pillow tightening. "You know you don't have to do this alone, right? I could—"

"No," Lisa interrupted firmly, her eyes flashing. "I'm not dragging you into this mess. I've made my choices, and I'll deal with the consequences. But this job... it's just temporary. I need the money to keep them off my back until the next fight. That's all this is."

Jisoo hesitated before nodding slowly. "Okay, I get that. But Lisa, I wasn't trying to mess things up for you. I respect your privacy. I really do. I just..." She trailed off, looking down at the pillow in her lap. "I guess I wanted Jennie to see how amazing you are. You deserve recognition for all the things you've been through, not just the crap life's thrown at you."

Lisa let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Recognition doesn't pay the rent, Jisoo. And it sure as hell doesn't keep loan sharks from breaking down my door. I don't need anyone to see me as 'amazing.' I just need to survive."

The weight of Lisa's words hung in the air, and Jisoo's expression crumpled slightly. "I'm sorry," she said again, her voice quieter this time. "I didn't mean to make things harder for you."

Lisa softened, her irritation giving way to weariness. She sat down on the edge of her bed, resting her elbows on her knees. "I know you didn't mean to, but I need you to understand how important this is to me. I don't want  anyone else—knowing about my fights, my debts, or anything. The fewer people who know, the better."

Jisoo nodded quickly. "I promise, Lisa. I won't say anything else. I'll keep my big mouth shut from now on."

Lisa glanced at her, a small, tired smile tugging at her lips. "You'd better. Otherwise, I might have to use some of those underground skills on you."

Jisoo laughed nervously, holding up her hands. "Okay, okay, I get it! Total silence from me, scout's honor."

The tension in the room eased slightly, and Lisa leaned back on her hands, looking up at the ceiling. "Thanks, Jisoo. I mean it. I know you're just looking out for me, but this... this is something I need to handle on my own."

Jisoo studied her friend for a moment before speaking softly. "You're stronger than anyone I know, Lisa. But you don't always have to do everything alone. If you ever need help, just say the word."

Lisa didn't respond immediately, her gaze still fixed on the ceiling. Finally, she sighed and nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

The two sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their conversation settling over them. Though the argument had passed, the understanding between them had deepened. For now, Lisa knew she could trust Jisoo to keep her secret safe. And Jisoo, for all her slip-ups, would do whatever it took to support her friend—even if it meant keeping her words in check.

--

The grand arena buzzed with energy as staff members hurried about, preparing for Jennie's rehearsal. The stage was a spectacle of dazzling lights and high-end equipment, the epitome of perfection that matched Jennie's reputation. Jennie stood at the center of the stage, mic in hand, her voice effortlessly filling the massive space as she rehearsed one of her hit songs. Her presence was magnetic, every move calculated yet natural, radiating the charisma that had made her the nation's IT girl.

Lisa stood at the edge of the stage, her sharp eyes fixed on Jennie as she performed. The sheer talent and confidence Jennie exuded were undeniable, and Lisa found herself unable to look away. But unlike the awe-struck gazes of fans, Lisa's attention was meticulous and analytical. She was here for a job, and she intended to do it well.

"Hey, Jisoo," Lisa called, her voice low enough not to disrupt the rehearsal.

Jisoo, who was seated nearby with a clipboard and headset, glanced over. "What's up?"

"What exactly am I supposed to be doing right now?" Lisa asked, keeping her tone casual despite her focus. "I feel like I'm just standing here."

Jisoo grinned, leaning back in her chair. "Right now? Just keep an eye on Jennie. Stay close to the stage and watch her movements. Think of it like you're her shadow. If anything happens—like she trips, needs help, or someone tries something stupid—you're there to step in."

Lisa raised an eyebrow. "So, like a bodyguard?"

"Pretty much," Jisoo confirmed. "It's more intense during the actual concert. Your main job then will be keeping an eye on the crowd, especially the front row. Sometimes, fans get a little too excited and try to jump the fence to get to her. If that happens, it's your job to stop them."

Lisa let out a low whistle. "Sounds like a lot for someone who's technically just an assistant."

Jisoo smirked. "Well, you handled that airport mob like a pro, so I'm sure you can handle a few overeager fans. Just stay alert and be ready to act."

Lisa nodded, her gaze shifting back to Jennie, who was now rehearsing choreography with her backup dancers. She moved with such precision and grace that it was almost hypnotic. Lisa shook her head slightly, forcing herself to focus.

"Got it," Lisa replied. "Stay close, stay alert. Anything else I should know?"

Jisoo shrugged. "Just don't let her out of your sight. Jennie's got this aura that draws people in, and sometimes that's not always a good thing. She's used to it, but it doesn't hurt to have someone like you watching her back."

Lisa's jaw tightened slightly, the weight of the responsibility settling over her. "Noted."

As the rehearsal continued, Lisa stayed below the stage, following Jennie's movements like a silent guardian. Jennie, ever the perfectionist, rehearsed tirelessly, repeating certain parts until they were flawless. Every now and then, she would glance down at Lisa, her expression unreadable. Lisa wondered if Jennie was evaluating her as much as she was evaluating Jennie.

During a brief break, Jennie walked to the edge of the stage, grabbing a water bottle. Her eyes landed on Lisa, who was standing a few feet away.

"You don't have to look so serious," Jennie remarked, her tone light but her gaze sharp.

Lisa gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. "Just doing my job."

Jennie raised an eyebrow, studying her for a moment before turning back to her crew. Lisa exhaled quietly, grateful the interaction had been brief.

By the time the rehearsal wrapped up, Lisa felt a new layer of respect for Jennie's work ethic. Despite her fame and status, Jennie was relentless in her pursuit of perfection, pushing herself and her team to deliver the best.

As the stage lights dimmed and the crew began packing up, Jisoo walked over to Lisa, nudging her lightly. "So, how was your first taste of the Jennie Kim experience?"

Lisa smirked, crossing her arms. "Intense. But I get it now. She's not just a face; she works for it."

Jisoo grinned. "Welcome to the Jennie Kim train. It's a wild ride, but you'll get used to it."

Lisa chuckled softly, but her thoughts lingered on Jennie. There was something about her—a pull Lisa couldn't quite explain. For now, though, she shoved those thoughts aside and focused on the task ahead.

Tomorrow was the real test, and Lisa was ready to step up to the challenge.

--

The atmosphere in the rehearsal room was thick with tension. Staff members, backup dancers, and choreographers scurried around, frantically trying to resolve the latest crisis. Jennie's expression was one of barely contained frustration as she stood in the center of the chaos, arms crossed and eyes sharp.

Her dance partner for the highly anticipated performance of You and Me had dropped out at the last minute due to a family emergency, leaving the team scrambling to find a replacement. The problem was, the choreography was intricate, requiring both skill and a deep connection between the partners to pull off seamlessly.

"Is this a joke?" Jennie snapped, her voice cutting through the room. "We're performing tonight. We don't have time for mistakes. If no one can get it right, then find me someone who can!"

The dancers attempting to fill in looked at each other nervously, each more discouraged than the last. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn't replicate the chemistry or precision needed for the routine.

Lisa stood by the side of the room, quietly observing the chaos. She leaned closer to Jisoo, who was furiously scribbling notes on her clipboard.

"Hey," Lisa whispered, her voice low. "How much do you think they'd pay if someone stepped in to be her partner? Is it a different rate than just assisting?"

Jisoo blinked, caught off guard by the question. She turned to Lisa, her brow furrowed. "Why? Are you seriously considering it?"

Lisa shrugged nonchalantly. "I've seen the routine. I know the steps. It's not rocket science."

Jisoo gawked at her. "You watched the routine, Lisa. That's not the same as doing it. Besides, you're her assistant, not a dancer."

Lisa raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a smirk. "So, how much?"

Jisoo hesitated before muttering, "It'd be more. A lot more, actually. Performance rates are higher, especially for something like this."

"Good enough for me," Lisa said, stepping forward.

Jisoo grabbed her arm. "Wait, you're not serious, are you? Lisa, this isn't a fight where you can just rely on instincts. This is Jennie Kim we're talking about. If you mess this up—"

Lisa cut her off with a grin. "Relax, Jisoo. I've got this."

Before Jisoo could protest further, Lisa raised her hand, drawing the room's attention. "I can do it."

The room fell silent, all eyes turning to her. Jennie arched a skeptical eyebrow, her frustration momentarily replaced with curiosity.

"You?" Jennie asked, her tone dripping with disbelief. "You're saying you can dance this routine? The one these professionals can't even get right?"

Lisa nodded confidently. "Yeah. I've been watching you and your partner practice. I know the steps."

A ripple of laughter and murmurs spread through the room. One of the choreographers spoke up. "With all due respect, this isn't something you can just pick up by watching. This routine requires precision, timing, and—"

Lisa held up a hand, cutting them off. "Look, you're in a bind, right? I'm offering to help. If I mess up, you can kick me out and find someone else. But if I get it right..." She turned her gaze to Jennie, her tone turning playful. "Well, then you owe me an apology for doubting me."

Jennie narrowed her eyes, her arms still crossed. "Fine. Show me. But don't waste my time."

Lisa smirked and stepped into position, facing Jennie. The choreographer reluctantly started the music, and the room went still as everyone watched.

The moment the music began, Lisa moved with fluid precision. Every step, every turn, every movement was executed flawlessly. She mirrored Jennie's timing and grace, matching her energy and creating an almost palpable chemistry on the dance floor.

Jennie, initially skeptical, found herself drawn into the performance. Lisa's movements weren't just accurate—they were natural, as if she'd been rehearsing the routine for weeks. Their eye contact was electric, and for a brief moment, the world outside the routine seemed to fade away.

When the music ended, the room erupted into stunned silence.

Lisa stepped back, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow at Jennie. "Well?" she asked casually, though her heart was pounding.

Jennie blinked, momentarily at a loss for words. Finally, she spoke, her voice low. "How... How did you do that?"

Lisa shrugged. "I told you. I watched. You're not exactly hard to follow, you know. You make it look easy."

The compliment caught Jennie off guard, and she quickly masked her surprise with a cool expression. "Lucky for you, we don't have another option. You're in."

Lisa grinned. "Happy to help."

As the room buzzed with renewed energy, Jisoo sidled up to Lisa, whispering, "I can't believe you pulled that off."

Lisa smirked, her eyes glinting with a mix of pride and relief. "I told you, Jisoo. I've got this."

Jennie glanced back at Lisa, her expression unreadable. For the first time in a long while, Jennie Kim was intrigued—and she wasn't sure how she felt about it.

Lisa leaned against the wall, watching the staff reset the stage for another round of practice. Jisoo approached her, her clipboard clutched to her chest and a bemused grin on her face.

"You're full of surprises, you know that?" Jisoo teased. "If Jennie wasn't so busy being stunned, I'm pretty sure she'd have a list of questions for you right now."

Lisa smirked, running a hand through her hair. "She can save her questions for later. Just don't forget to make sure I'm getting paid for this dance too."

Jisoo rolled her eyes, though she couldn't hide her grin. "I'll talk to the team. You're milking this, aren't you?"

Lisa shrugged with mock innocence. "Hey, a girl's got bills to pay. And loan sharks to keep off her back."

Before Jisoo could retort, Jennie's voice cut through the hum of chatter.

"Lisa," she called, her tone sharp but not unkind. "We're doing it again. One last practice before tonight. I want it perfect."

Lisa straightened, her playful demeanor vanishing as she nodded. "Got it."

The crew cleared the space, and Lisa took her place opposite Jennie. The music began, soft and haunting, and the two of them stepped into the routine like they had been dancing together for years.

This time, the atmosphere was different. The rhythm of the music seemed to sync with the tension between them, creating an energy that was almost tangible. Lisa's hands moved with deliberate precision, sliding across Jennie's waist to guide her into a spin. Jennie felt the heat of Lisa's touch through the thin fabric of her rehearsal outfit, a spark that sent an unfamiliar shiver up her spine.

As they moved in perfect harmony, Lisa's hand found the small of Jennie's back, pulling her closer for a lift. Jennie felt the subtle strength in Lisa's grip, her breath catching as Lisa's touch lingered just a moment longer than necessary.

When Lisa's fingers brushed along her arm to guide her into another move, Jennie's skin seemed to ignite. She couldn't explain the sensation—a mix of awareness and something deeper, something unsettling yet thrilling.

Lisa, on the other hand, stayed composed, though she couldn't ignore the electricity in the air. Her focus remained sharp, but even she couldn't deny the magnetic pull between them as they danced.

The final pose brought them close—Jennie's back against Lisa's chest, Lisa's breath warm against her neck. The room was silent, the staff frozen as they watched, captivated by the intensity of the performance.

For a moment, neither of them moved, the music's final note echoing in the room. The weight of the moment pressed down, thick and heavy, until Lisa finally stepped back, breaking the spell.

"Well," Lisa said, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "That'll do. But I have one condition for tonight."

Jennie turned to face her, her chest rising and falling from exertion. "Condition?" she echoed, her voice more breathless than she intended.

Lisa nodded, her expression serious. "I want to wear a mask during the performance. Something simple, nothing flashy. It's non-negotiable."

The crew exchanged glances, and Jennie frowned. "Why?"

Lisa met her gaze, unwavering. "I don't want the attention. I'm here to do a job, not to be recognized. It's final."

Jennie studied her for a long moment, the memory of their dance still fresh in her mind. Finally, she nodded. "Fine. Get her a mask," she said to the team.

As the staff moved to prepare, Jennie's eyes lingered on Lisa, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion. There was something about Lisa—something that intrigued her and unsettled her in equal measure.

Lisa, meanwhile, turned to Jisoo, her usual smirk returning. "Make sure they don't skimp on my paycheck for this, alright?"

Jisoo chuckled, shaking her head. "You're unbelievable."

Lisa winked. "I try."

As they walked off the stage, Jennie found her gaze following Lisa again, her mind replaying the dance. That spark, that unexplainable pull—it left her with more questions than answers. But for now, she had a performance to prepare for.

--

Jennie POV

We'd finished the routine, and I was still catching my breath when Lisa stepped back, putting distance between us as if the dance hadn't just altered the air between us. My back felt cold without her warmth, and I hated how aware I was of it.

"Well," Lisa said, her voice steady, casual. "That'll do. But I have one condition for tonight."

I turned to look at her, narrowing my eyes. A condition? From my assistant? The audacity. "Condition?" I asked, keeping my tone even, though I couldn't help the edge of curiosity that slipped through.

Lisa didn't even flinch. "I want to wear a mask during the performance. Something simple. Nothing flashy. It's non-negotiable."

I blinked. A mask? Why? My first instinct was to push back, to demand an explanation. But the way she looked at me—steady, calm, and somehow immovable—made me pause. She didn't look nervous or unsure. She looked certain.

"Why?" I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

Her answer was annoyingly vague. "I don't want the attention. I'm here to do a job, not to be recognized. It's final."

That made no sense to me. Lisa wasn't just capable—she was exceptional. She'd stepped into a role people had struggled with for hours and had nailed it on her first try. And yet, she wanted to hide?

Something about her answer stuck with me, but I didn't have the time to unravel it. "Fine," I said, turning to the crew. "Get her a mask. Make it work."

They scrambled to action, but I barely noticed. My eyes stayed on Lisa, trying to figure her out. She was... different. That much was clear. There was a quiet confidence to her, a magnetism I couldn't quite put into words.

And those hands—her hands had moved over my body like they knew exactly where to go, guiding me through the routine with precision and care. The memory of her touch made my skin tingle, and I hated how I couldn't shake it.

Lisa turned to Jisoo then, smirking in that infuriatingly charming way of hers. "Make sure they don't skimp on my paycheck for this, alright?"

Jisoo laughed, shaking her head. "You're unbelievable."

Lisa winked. "I try."

I found myself gritting my teeth. Not because of her comment, but because of how easy she made it all seem. How easy it was for her to be the center of attention without even trying, even when she claimed she didn't want it.

I turned away, trying to focus on the next part of rehearsal, but my mind kept wandering. That dance... It wasn't just her skill that had caught me off guard. It was something else. Something about the way her hands lingered just a second longer than necessary, the way her breath brushed against my neck in those final moments, sending a shiver down my spine.

And it wasn't just me. I'd seen how the others had watched us, the way the room had gone completely silent, as if everyone was holding their breath.

But what bothered me most was the way she walked off the stage afterward, completely unaffected, like nothing had happened.

As I moved to review the next set, I caught myself glancing in her direction again. Lisa was leaning casually against a wall, talking quietly with Jisoo. Her presence was calm, unbothered, and entirely too magnetic.

I shook my head, brushing the thoughts away. I had more important things to focus on. A concert to perfect.

And yet, as the day went on, I couldn't stop thinking about her. About her hands. About that spark.

Whatever it was, it refused to fade.

--

The energy in the arena was electric, the kind of buzz that always made me feel alive. The lights, the crowd, the adrenaline—all of it was perfect. This was my world, my stage, my moment to shine.

But tonight, something was different.

I stood at the edge of the stage, mic in hand, as the opening beats of my solo echoed through the arena. The cheers from the audience surged like a wave, wrapping around me in a familiar embrace. I took a deep breath, letting it fuel me, but instead of focusing on the music, my thoughts drifted.

To her.

Lisa.

I glanced backstage, catching a glimpse of her leaning against the wall, arms crossed, her usual relaxed posture on full display. She wasn't watching me—she was talking to Jisoo again, her head tilted in that effortless way she always had, like nothing ever fazed her.

I hated how she looked so calm, so unbothered, while I was here, trying to shake the feeling that had been following me since rehearsal. The memory of her hands on me during the dance, her steady guidance, the way her breath had brushed against my skin—it was all too much.

The music pulled me back as the verse began, and I moved into the choreography automatically, my body knowing the routine like the back of my hand. But my mind was somewhere else entirely.

I couldn't stop thinking about our upcoming performance. It was the second part of the concert, right after this set. The thought of being that close to her again, under the bright lights, with thousands of eyes on us, made my chest tighten.

I told myself it was just the pressure of the performance. That was all. It had nothing to do with her.

And yet, as I moved across the stage, my eyes kept drifting to the wings where she stood. She'd traded her usual casual clothes for the all-black outfit the team had prepared for her performance—sleek, understated, and yet somehow still drawing all the attention in the room.

How could someone look so effortlessly... striking?

I stumbled on the next step, the tiniest misstep that no one probably noticed except for me. But it was enough to shake me.

"Focus, Jennie," I muttered under my breath, pulling myself back into the moment.

The crowd roared louder as I hit the high note, their energy pulling me through the rest of the song. When it finally ended, I took a deep bow, flashing a smile that felt natural even if my thoughts weren't.

As I walked offstage, the crew swarmed around me, offering water, touching up my makeup, and adjusting my outfit for the next segment. I nodded along to their chatter, but my focus was elsewhere.

Lisa was already standing near the entrance to the stage, her mask in hand. She caught my eye for a brief moment, and for the first time, I thought I saw something flicker in her expression. Nervousness? Excitement? I couldn't tell.

"Ready?" Jisoo asked, coming up beside her.

Lisa nodded, slipping the mask over her face, her calm demeanor sliding back into place.

I didn't know why it bothered me so much.

"You good, Jennie?" Jisoo's voice pulled me back, and I realized I was staring.

"Yeah," I said quickly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "Let's do this."

But as we moved into position for the second set, I couldn't help but glance at Lisa again, her masked face somehow more enigmatic than ever.

Whatever this was, I needed to get it together.

The stage lights dimmed, and the crowd erupted in anticipation.

And as the opening notes of You and Me began to play, I realized that getting it together was going to be a lot harder than I thought.

The lights dimmed, and the crowd roared, their voices blending into a deafening wave of excitement. As the opening beats of You and Me pulsed through the arena, I stood at center stage, my body ready to move, but my heart was pounding like it had a mind of its own.

And then Lisa stepped into the spotlight.

The crowd's reaction shifted, screams piercing the air as they noticed her. Even with her face obscured by the sleek black mask, she commanded attention effortlessly. It annoyed me how easily she seemed to belong up here, a place I'd spent years earning.

As the music began, we moved together, every step, every motion synchronized like we'd been rehearsing for weeks instead of hours. Her hands guided me flawlessly, her touch sparking something unfamiliar deep within me.

The way her fingers brushed my waist, the way her body moved in perfect rhythm with mine—it was like she knew exactly how to draw the best out of me, without even trying.

My heart raced faster with each turn, each lift. It wasn't just the dance or the energy of the crowd. It was her.

Why was it her?

The final chorus hit, and the crowd screamed louder, their energy feeding into the intensity between us. I couldn't tell if it was just the adrenaline of the performance, but every touch, every glance felt charged, like there was something unspoken hanging between us.

And then it was over.

The music faded, the stage lights went dark, and for a brief moment, we were enveloped in darkness. The crowd's cheers echoed around us, but all I could focus on was the sound of her breathing close to mine.

"Lisa—" I started, but before I could finish, I felt it.

A soft, fleeting touch. Her lips brushed against mine so lightly it could have been imagined.

But it wasn't.

My entire body froze, my breath catching as my brain tried to process what had just happened. The lights came back on, illuminating the stage once more, but Lisa was already gone. She'd slipped away into the shadows as if nothing had happened.

I stood there, stunned, unable to move, my lips tingling from the briefest contact. The crew rushed onto the stage, helping me off, but their voices were muffled, distant.

What just happened?

By the time I was backstage, my heart was still racing, my thoughts spinning in circles. Did she really...? And if she did, why?

I scanned the room, searching for her, but she was nowhere to be found. It was like she'd vanished into thin air.

"Jennie, are you okay?" Jisoo's voice broke through the fog, concern etched across her face.

"I'm fine," I lied, forcing a smile.

But I wasn't.

Because no matter how much I tried, I couldn't shake the feeling of her lips on mine, the way my heart had raced like it never had before, or the confusing mix of emotions swirling inside me.

I didn't know what to feel.

The concert roared on, the energy from the crowd pushing me forward. Song after song, I gave it my all, each performance earning waves of deafening screams and applause. This was my domain, my escape, my home.

And yet, I couldn't focus.

Not entirely, at least.

As I twirled and danced under the blinding stage lights, my gaze kept drifting to the side of the stage where Lisa stood. Her stance was firm, her eyes sharp, scanning the crowd with a precision that seemed out of place for someone who was supposed to be just an assistant.

She was fully in her element, and I hated how captivating it was to watch her.

The spotlight shifted as I moved to the center of the stage for my solo performance. The opening chords of Solo filled the arena, and I struck my pose, the cheers from the audience vibrating through the floor beneath me.

But even as I poured my heart into the lyrics, spinning through the intricate choreography, my peripheral vision kept pulling me toward her.

Lisa.

She stood at the edge of the stage, her focus unwavering, her posture radiating quiet authority. Her black outfit from earlier had been replaced with a simpler one, but it didn't matter. She had this way of standing out without even trying.

And she wasn't watching me. Not in the way everyone else was, at least.

Her attention was on the crowd, her eyes scanning for anything out of the ordinary. Every so often, she would move slightly, adjusting her position, her hands clasped loosely in front of her.

The seriousness in her expression was so unlike the playful, sarcastic Lisa I'd met offstage. It made me wonder—who was the real Lisa?

A tug of jealousy hit me when a group of backup dancers passed close by her, some of them stealing glances and whispering among themselves. Of course, they'd noticed her. She had this magnetic quality that drew people in.

And yet, she didn't seem to notice them.

I spun into the final chorus, my voice ringing out across the arena, and the crowd roared. It should've been exhilarating, the kind of rush I lived for, but my mind was elsewhere.

I couldn't stop thinking about the moment backstage—the way she'd kissed me, so fleeting it almost didn't seem real.

But it was real.

The music ended, and I struck my final pose, the crowd erupting in cheers. I smiled, bowing gracefully, but my eyes once again found her.

She caught me looking this time.

Our gazes met for the briefest second before she turned away, her focus snapping back to the crowd.

I shook my head, trying to snap myself out of it as the next performance queued up. But even as the concert went on, I couldn't help it.

I looked at her. Again and again.

And every time, I found her just as serious, just as steady.

By the time the final song played and the concert began to wind down, my thoughts were a tangled mess.

The crowd was still cheering as we took our bows, and I forced a bright smile, waving at the fans who'd come to see me. But my heart wasn't in it.

Because as I glanced toward the side of the stage one last time, I knew the truth.

Lisa wasn't just a distraction. She was becoming something I couldn't ignore.

I need to confront her...