That day, the ground beneath her feet felt softer than ever before. With every step, her toes sank into its cold, unstable surface. It clung to her, whispering warnings, urging her to stop before she went any further, before she reached the edge. Voices echoed in the distance, hollow and distorted, as if trapped at the bottom of a well.

– Kira, what are you doing!? We have to run!

She stared blankly at the figure shouting orders at her. Something in her resisted the idea of running, as if escape had already lost its meaning. She glanced over her shoulder. The air behind her was filled with noise, screams, frantic voices calling out. How had it come to this? A sharp pain shot through her right side and she groaned, clutching it.

– Get up! Quickly! It’s all about to collapse! Kira, do you hear me!?

She jolted awake, her eyes snapping open as she scanned the empty room in panic.

– Are you okay? – Mandy asked.

– Yes… sorry – she replied, still trembling.

– It’s because of the meeting. You shouldn’t have agreed to it.

– It’s better this way. I’ve been working with them for two years, and we’ve never met in person. Honestly, it’s a miracle they’ve been this patient.

– You could’ve told them the truth. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.

– No. That’s my business. I don’t owe anyone an explanation. Besides, the people closest to me already think I’m strange. If people at work found out, they’d start wondering whether it’s worth trusting someone who can’t control her fears.

– I think you’ve already proven they can trust you. Don’t you? – Mandy looked at her with quiet sadness, hoping today would move her forward, even if only by a single step. If only she knew how to help her. She let out a soft breath, then forced a brighter smile. – I’ll make breakfast. You get ready. We need to be there by 10:00 a.m.

– Okay – Kira said, her gaze drifting over the bed before she quickly began making it, as if restoring order could still restore control.

During a quick shower, she touched her left wrist. The bracelet of white beads reminded her of the person who had given it to her – someone who was no longer there. She still couldn’t accept that the life she once knew had ended in a single second and would never return. She closed her eyes. Water ran over her face and through her long, straight brown hair, falling past her shoulder blades. The heavy wet fringe pressed against her skin, forcing her eyes shut, and tears slipped out beneath her lashes. This was her routine. A cycle that had held her since the tragedy took hold of her and refused to let go. She stood there for twenty minutes. Her breathing slowed until it was almost nothing, cutting her off from the world outside the window, distant and hostile. When she finally turned off the water, she exhaled heavily. She knew that, despite her best intentions, she wouldn’t make it to the scheduled meeting. Resigned, she wiped the fogged mirror with her right hand. When she looked into it, her gaze dropped to her trembling hand. This is your reality, she thought, staring at it as if it didn’t belong to her. How can you control anything around you if you can’t even control your own body? – she whispered under her breath. She looked at herself again, then slowly smiled and put on a mask of ease. She tilted her head gently three times, as if testing it, before settling into the expression she had chosen to look most convincing that day.

– What happened? – Mandy asked from the kitchen, not fooled for a second.

– Nothing – she replied, pretending not to understand.

– Kira, I’ve known you for twenty-three years – Mandy said, raising her eyebrows as she pressed a wooden spatula lightly against her cheek. She studied her carefully. – You can’t fool me. Talk.

– I can’t do it – she said finally, collapsing into the chair.

– Call them. Tell them you’re not feeling well.

– That’s what I’ve been saying for two years – Kira sighed, biting into a black olive.

– Then reschedule. I finish at 7:00 p.m. I’ll come with you. I want to meet the people you talk to every day. Honestly, I’ve been curious about them since we moved in together. Probably just as curious as they are about you.

– Do you regret it? Moving in with me? – Kira asked, searching her face.

– Don’t be ridiculous. You’re my best friend – Mandy said, stepping in and wrapping her arms around her from behind. – The sister I never had. The one I always wanted. – Suddenly she groaned. – Our breakfast! – she snatched the pan off the stove. Setting it aside, she frowned. – I’ll grab something from the store. You move the meeting to the evening. The later, the better.

– Okay – Kira nodded.

Mandy grabbed a small wallet her grandmother had given her when she was six and slipped out, shutting the door behind her with a bright, careless smile. She ran down the stairs and pulled open the side door that led directly to their attic apartment in the eight-story building. It had been Kira’s condition – close to the city center, but separate from the rest of the building. She barely made it over the threshold before colliding with a man coming from the right. Black jeans. White sneakers. A navy hoodie pulled over a black cap, shadowing half his face. He didn’t even look at her.

– I’m so sorry – Mandy said quickly, wincing.

He brushed coffee off his clothes without a word, then crouched down to gather his spilled groceries. When she tried to look at him again, he was already gone, turning the corner.

– You should accept apologies when they’re given! – she shouted after him, frustration flaring. Then she stomped her foot and kept walking. If she had known he was wearing Bluetooth earbuds, she wouldn’t have wasted her breath. Inside the noise of music, he didn’t hear a thing. His phone buzzed. He answered.

– About time – a man’s voice came through. – So? Make it quick. I’ve got a meeting with the writer in an hour.

– It’s fine – he said, smiling to himself. He knew that would annoy him.

– Fine? Just fine? – the man repeated, laughing despite himself.

– Did you change your songwriter again? – he asked. He pulled off his damp hoodie, revealing a lean, heavily trained body. His left arm was fully covered in tattoos down to the wrist.

– Yeah – he answered after a pause.

– Good – he said, stepping to the window half-naked. Below, he spotted the girl from earlier walking back toward the building. – Whoever it is… they know you well.

– Her – Dax said. – It’s a woman.

– A woman? Am I missing something? – he asked, still watching the woman responsible for the earlier incident. He hadn’t been here for two years, and clearly a lot had changed in the building he owned. With a calm gaze, he looked at the table where a thick folder of documents lay, left behind by his real estate agent. After opening it, he found a lease for the apartment located just above his head. At Dax’s urging, he had renovated the attic, turning it into the most striking vantage point in the entire building and its most spacious area, larger even than his own place.

– Sota, let’s meet at the lake tonight. I’m throwing you a welcome party. Small… about fifty people – Dax said with a laugh. – After all, we need to celebrate your return from the army.

– I don’t know, I just got here.

– Don’t be like that, brother – Dax replied, hoping his friend would agree.

– We’ll see. For now I need to take a shower. The new tenant ran into me, and I’m covered in coffee.

– Pretty? Maybe I should come and accept her apology on your behalf – he laughed loudly into the phone, clearly amused by his own words.

They had known each other for over thirteen years, eleven of which they had spent traveling together. Dax was on stage, while Sota worked behind it, supporting his parents, who lived in the shadow of the spotlight and handled media relations and PR. Sota’s mother was Dax’s manager and also managed his dance crew. His father was a technician, responsible for all safety operations during concerts. Dax had been discovered at the age of fifteen, performing and singing on a street corner. Now, at twenty-eight, he was a pop icon – an idol imitated by teenagers all over the world. To their disappointment, two years earlier he had announced a break from touring. Since then, he had been pouring everything into the studio, which he had barely left for a year. He needed just one more song to complete his new album. To do that, he was about to meet the mysterious author of his lyrics, whose words stirred hearts, minds, and desires not only in the younger generation, but also in older audiences. Although he had been living like a recluse for months, his most obsessive fans still tracked his every move, sometimes leading to extreme and embarrassing situations that made him deeply uncomfortable. That’s why he had hired a makeup artist, whom he paid generously to keep everything confidential. The man created different disguises for Dax whenever he needed to go out without attracting attention. Dax used contact lenses that changed his black eyes to green, blue, and sometimes yellow-gray. He also wore wigs as part of his disguises. Thanks to these tricks and many others, he was free. He could finally breathe again – something he had been missing in his work for years, where he always felt trapped. The feeling was overwhelming, because on one hand he had always dreamed of fame, while on the other he wished the world would remain unchanged, just as he was. But the second desire had started to blur the line between reality and illusion, which he had been forced into so that his music could climb the charts year after year. For what? Fame? Money? Cars? All of that was already behind him, and he wasn’t even thirty yet.

He loved who he was. He loved his music. He loved his fans, who made the pain of grueling rehearsals and training, spreading through his body like fire – burning and consuming him inch by inch – something he could endure. Clenched teeth allowed him to hold back not only tears, but also gallons of sweat. Why? Because he believed it was worth sacrificing for people who had stood by him like a wall, even after the tragedy that had happened. He felt their support in every part of him. They made him forget everything. They were his drug. That’s why he wanted to give them not only comfort, but also energy. But the fans were not fooled. They could feel that the moment he began singing, his soul was crying. Immersed and isolated in the sound of his music, they hummed along to their favorite songs.

– Sota – he said seriously – maybe you could… – he stopped, afraid of hearing a refusal.

– Dax… – his friend replied. – I don’t do that anymore. – And with that, the call ended under the excuse that he had to take a shower.

Dax put down his phone, which started ringing again almost immediately. He regretted that his friend no longer wrote lyrics. They both knew it had been the reason he had become a star. After the tragedy two years ago that claimed a hundred lives, Sota had put down his pen. Everyone had thought it would last a few days, maybe weeks. The truth was far harsher. Sota couldn’t create anymore, just as Dax couldn’t return to the stage. The image never left him – a collapsing structure falling onto people, engulfed in flames caused by a short circuit and prematurely triggered fireworks. It came back to him every night. That memory had stripped him of his courage to perform live. But the label had stopped waiting for him to recover. They gave him an ultimatum: return to the stage six months after the album release, or they would terminate his contract. Locked away in isolation, surrounded by screams that only he could still hear, he feared the nightmare would come back and turn him into a stage killer for a second time. The thought sent a chill through him. He reached for his phone and muted it. He was about to set it down when the manager’s number flashed on the screen.

– She rescheduled again? – he said sharply. – How many times is this now? In the evening? No. That doesn’t work for me. I already have plans. Am I supposed to change them because she changed hers at the last minute? Listen, I won’t be there. You can meet her yourselves. I don’t need to be involved. And after the way she behaved last time, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want me there anyway – he sank into the couch and stared up at the ceiling, its clean white surface calming him slightly. – I’m leaving for the lake today. I’ll be there all weekend. Set it up for Tuesday, maybe Wednesday, if you want me to show up. Fine. Call me when it’s done – he hung up and let out a short, mocking laugh, still irritated by how she had treated him and how she had cut contact overnight. – Women love me… and she’s the only one avoiding me – he scoffed. He packed quickly. Just as he was about to leave, he returned to the bedroom. From the wardrobe, he pulled out his “free life” kit, as he liked to call his second self. In the disguise of an ordinary gray twenty-something, he set one goal – Sota’s apartment. He figured he would surprise him with an unannounced visit, and maybe that would finally push Sota to agree to the lake trip. At the corner of his street, he flagged down a passing taxi.

– You from around here? – the driver asked, glancing at him in the rearview mirror.

– Sort of. I work for one of the locals – he replied lightly, with a boyish grin.

That smile had a way of disarming people instantly. The driver felt it too – a sudden burst of good energy – and immediately started chatting about which celebrities lived in the area.

– You’ve got a good job, sir – Dax said with a faint smile. – Other people fight just to catch a glimpse of their idol, and you’ve got them sitting in your back seat.

– Well… not quite like that – the driver chuckled. – You get a few big names now and then, but not often. And usually in situations I’d rather not witness – he added with a tired sigh.

Dax turned his gaze toward the window, letting the city slide past him in silence. It had changed a lot over the years. A dozen minutes later, they arrived. He paid generously and stepped out. The driver stared at the tip for a moment, clearly unsure how to react. Dax noticed and briefly wondered if he had overdone it. Well… too late now. He smiled, patted the man on the shoulder, and wished him a good weekend. Then he adjusted his long gray coat, the fabric falling all the way to his ankles. He was just about to step forward when he saw Sota leaving the building. Lost in thought, Sota walked right past him without even noticing.

– What the… – Dax whispered, almost offended that he hadn’t been recognized. Without a word, he followed him.

Sota stopped only at the corner, where a small flower shop stood across the street. He went inside. When he came out, he was holding a medium bouquet. Dax slowed his steps. He had expected him to turn back toward the apartment, but instead Sota kept walking... further away. Curious now, he narrowed his eyes and followed at a distance. Sota turned into a narrow alley leading up a slight incline. Halfway up, he stopped. A wave of something quiet and heavy passed over him – nostalgia, maybe something else. He closed his eyes and leaned his hand against a low wall before sitting down on it. He stayed like that for a moment. Then he stood. And as he straightened, he noticed a shadow had fallen across him – blocking not only the sun, but him as well.

– Who are you, and why are you following me? – Sota asked sharply.

– It’s me – Dax replied. – I wanted to surprise you. But I can see you already had plans – he added quietly, glancing at the flowers.

– Come on – Sota said, slipping an arm around his neck and pulling him along.

The smiles stayed on their faces until they crossed the cemetery gates and reached the place where two stone graves marked the people resting beneath them.

– How’s your mom? – Dax asked, staring at the letters carved into the stone bearing Sota’s father’s name.

– She’s good. Finally enjoying the retirement she deserves – Sota replied, shifting his gaze to the second gravestone, the one belonging to his thirteen-year-old brother, who had died tragically. – I’m going to see her next. You coming?

– Gladly – Dax answered with a nod.

Sota had known that would be his answer. How? Because he and Dax understood each other without words. At least that was how it used to be before life briefly pulled them in different directions. Spending nearly every free moment together had taught them how to read each other’s thoughts and emotions without needing to speak. The things left unsaid lingered between them. A slight touch of the hand meant it was time to slow down or rethink something. Certain smiles spoke of amusement, others of embarrassment. A blink could mean approval. Sometimes permission. There was far more to it than that. They had mastered each other’s body language so completely that a single glance was enough for the other to understand everything. But among the people closest to them, that strange connection began raising more questions than answers. Even before his death, Sota’s father had started worrying about how close they were, especially after hearing backstage whispers suggesting the two of them might be more than friends. Things only intensified once Sota started training seriously. Until then, his lean frame had never drawn much attention, but as he gained muscle, people started noticing him. Seeing the changes in his friend, Dax began working out too, wanting to match him and look stronger onstage. Around that time, Sota started covering his arm with tattoos. The colorful artwork reflected emotions he kept buried deep inside. Dax never followed him down that path. Not because he couldn’t. He admired the way Sota expressed himself through those vivid images, the way they revealed moods he would never speak aloud. But he chose differently. He kept everything locked away inside his mind instead of carving it into his skin. And with every new line added to Sota’s arm, he remained the only person capable of understanding what it truly meant. Those changes, along with the way they carried themselves, had a powerful effect on the female audience. Women had always loved handsome men, and before the eyes of the world, the two of them were transforming from ordinary boys into some of the most desired men in the country. Even though Dax was the star, people noticed Sota too. Soon came joint photoshoots for major magazines. Articles praised both their individuality and the unusual closeness between them. The media fueled endless speculation, desperate to uncover more about their lives. But from the very beginning, they made one thing clear: their private lives were not for sale. People refused to accept that. They pushed against every boundary the two of them tried to set. Edited clips started appearing online, so convincing that millions began believing Dax and Sota were secretly together. No one stopped to think about what those fabricated videos might do to them mentally. All that mattered was attention. Views. Publicity. But they were more like brothers than anything else. Somewhere between dreams and reality, they moved through life as if they shared the same heartbeat. In their eyes, there was nothing wrong or shameful about the bond they had. During their darkest moments, they became pillars holding each other upright while life repeatedly tried to drag them toward destruction, addiction, or self-destruction. If either of them had ignored the voice of reason – the voice of the other – they never would have survived the war waged against them by gossip media and sometimes even by the fans themselves. Raised in faith, they held tightly to the principles and values their families had taught them. So they built a small world of their own. A bubble filled with as much sunlight as possible, as much joy as they could carry, and only the people they trusted enough to let inside. Yes… people, because in their minds, the only true friends they had were each other. That world shattered the day Dax stood onstage and watched the collapsing structure crash down onto Sota’s father and younger brother. The memory hit him so violently that his entire body jerked. Sota noticed the involuntary reaction from the corner of his eye and stopped walking, studying him carefully.

– It wasn’t your fault – he said softly, looking him straight in the eyes.

Dax said nothing. He felt differently. On the day of the concert, he himself had suggested that his younger brother, who had been spending time backstage in his trailer, join him onstage and lose himself in the rhythm of the songs written by his older brother. Seeing Dax sink deeper and deeper into tar-black memories, Sota grabbed him and shook him so hard that Dax cried out in pain.

– Live, do you hear me!? Stop torturing yourself over something you had no control over – he said, turning toward the memorial stones. – They would want you to live. To enjoy your life. Yours is still going. Theirs ended. Maybe sooner than it should have, but who are we to question that? I made peace with losing them. You should do the same. Get that poison out of your head already, the same poison you pour down your throat every night like whiskey. There’s so much pain inside you… and nobody feels it except you.

– Is that so? – Dax said, doubt lingering in his voice. – You’re a hypocrite – he turned his head away, making it clear the conversation was over.

Sota knew Dax understood him better than anyone else in the world, so without another word, he pointed toward the road they needed to take back. When they arrived at his family home, he stopped in front of the door. With a heavy heart, he forced on a smile, flashing perfectly white teeth beneath a mask of happiness. The artificial brightness in his eyes made Dax do the same. And just like that, both of them slipped effortlessly into the roles of men who still knew how to enjoy life. It didn’t matter that beneath the surface each of them remained trapped in a different kind of hell with no escape. Every day they drowned quietly while pretending everything was fine. The distance they had allowed to grow between them only made things worse, turning them both –in their own twisted ways – into experts at lying and hiding behind carefully crafted masks that kept reality at arm’s length. Broken, they surrounded themselves with illusions that, once exposed, were instantly replaced with new ones just as convincing as before, giving them relief and just enough air to keep breathing.

When the door finally opened, both of them blinked rapidly, forcing warmth back into their expressions for the person standing before them.

– Hi, Mom – Sota said, pulling her into his arms.

– Sota… – The moment she spoke his name, tears rolled down her cheeks. She hadn’t seen her son in over two years, even though they spoke often on the phone. Letting them inside, she gave Dax a questioning look.

– Oh, right – Sota laughed. – Take it off.

He reached for the wig and tugged it free, revealing the short black hair underneath. Sota’s mother immediately opened her arms to Dax.

– My second son…

The words hit him harder than he expected. He swallowed back the tears and buried them deep inside himself, where they joined all the others the world would never see.

– Sit down. I’ll bring some tea – she said softly, brushing both their cheeks with gentle affection.

– Last time I was here, the neighbor threatened to call the cops because of our karaoke nights – Dax said with a smile.

– Those were good times – Sota replied.

They spent hours reminiscing. By the time dinner came around, they had completely forgotten about the party that had already been going on for over an hour, thankfully kept alive by Dax’s manager.

– So how did you meet him? – Sota asked as they got into the taxi they had called.

– Your mom recommended him before she left – Dax answered casually.

– You must trust him if you let him into your house while you’re gone.

– I bought another place. That one’s just for parties now.

– Wait… what? Then where are you living? – Sota looked at him, confused.

– In the house next door. Nobody knows it’s mine.

– What?

– Looks like you’ve forgotten how it works. The second people find out where you are, they show up at your door. So instead of adding another lie to my life, I just tell the truth now. Whenever someone asks where I am, I tell them I’m at the lake house. You have no idea how many times I’ve hung up the phone only to watch cars start pulling in, all because somebody wanted an excuse to force their way into my life – bitterness crept into his voice.

– Life as a celebrity isn’t easy – Sota said, patting him on the back and winking. – But you’ve known that for a long time.

– Don’t change the subject. I hope you’re packed, because like I said, we’re stopping by your place. I’ll wait downstairs while you run up, grab your bag, and come back.

– Yes, sir! – he shouted, saluting before bursting into laughter.

People said all kinds of things about them, and the internet was full of haters eager to tear them apart. They criticized everything and nothing at the same time, desperate for attention and willing to drag their names through the mud to get it. Ever since people started hinting that it was finally time for him to settle down, Dax had stopped checking social media and gossip sites altogether. He didn’t need the stress. He wasn’t ready for a family, let alone questions about his private life in interviews. Instead, he would flash a grin, wink at the cameras, and say, “Girls, I’m waiting for you.” It had worked for years, although lately not quite as well as it used to.

– We’re taking the motorcycle – Sota said, pulling him out of his thoughts.

– Fine, but I’m driving – Dax replied with a grin, rubbing his hands together eagerly. Just the thought of riding his baby again lit him up instantly.

– No. You’ll get us killed. Practice first, then I’ll give you the spare keys. After that, you can ride whenever you want.

Dax shot him an offended look. With exaggerated arrogance, he pulled open the taxi door, making it perfectly clear who was supposed to pay.

– Oh, come on! – Sota protested dramatically.

Dax ignored him and walked over to the motorcycle, leaning casually against it. The moment Sota got closer, Dax motioned impatiently for him to hurry up.

– Come upstairs with me. Why are you waiting out here? It’s late already.

– Stop it. It’s only late once the clock says tomorrow. Go. Ten minutes.

– Alright, alright – Sota waved him off lazily before disappearing around the corner and into the apartment building.

At that exact moment, Kira came out from the opposite side, hurrying to take out the trash. Hiding her face behind her bangs and hair, she walked right past Dax without even looking at him. He watched her curiously.

– Is she drunk or something? – he muttered under his breath as he watched her stumble and repeatedly brace herself against the wall, nearly dragging herself along it.

Wanting to help, he pushed himself off the motorcycle and walked over. With one hand, he grabbed the trash bag, and with the other, he lifted the lid of the bin she had stopped in front of. Kira, not expecting anyone to be there – much less help her – suddenly screamed. Panicking, Dax immediately tried to calm her down while still tugging awkwardly at the bag she refused to let go of.

– You asshole! Let her go! Do you hear me?! – Mandy shouted as she came running toward them.

In a frenzy, she launched herself onto Dax’s back from behind. During the violent struggle, she yanked at his hair so hard that the wig came off in her hand. That instantly convinced her she was dealing with some kind of creep.

– You predator! – she screamed even louder, tightening her legs around his waist.