Arista's POV
Everyone knew.
Before the curtains moved.
Before the announcement echoed.
Before the first note even existed.
If the school ever spoke about talent, two names always followed.
Arista Rivera.
Kaelor Han.
Backstage buzzed with noise—mic checks, teachers shouting instructions, students whispering too loudly.
And suddenly, my chest tightened.
Too fast.
Too shallow.
My hands trembled around the mic.
Not now.
I'd performed countless times. Singing and dancing were my safest places.
So why did my vision blur?
"Arista?"
Kaelor's voice cut through the chaos.
I swallowed. "I—I think I can't—"
The noise faded when he stepped closer, not touching, just present.
"Look at me," he said calmly.
I did.
"Name five things you can see."
My breath hitched. "The lights… the curtains… your shoes… Mira pacing… your eyes..."
"Good," he nodded. "Four things you can hear."
"Music testing… Zoe laughing… someone arguing… your voice."
My breathing slowed without me realizing.
"Three things you can feel."
"The mic… the floor… your gaze..."
He held my hand. Steady. Anchoring.
"You're safe," he said quietly. "This stage is yours. It always has been."
Something loosened inside me.
I exhaled.
"Better?" he asked.
I nodded. "Yeah. Thank you."
Before he could step back, Mira leaned in with a grin.
"Wow. He said look at me and she survived. Growth."
Zoe wiggled her eyebrows. "So this is what panic cure looks like now? Tall, quiet, sings well?"
Sana smirked. "Should we call him Kaelor or lichi today?"
I groaned. "Don't start."
Kaelor blinked. "Lichi?"
Zoe patted his shoulder. "Don't ask. You'll regret it."
The announcement boomed.
"And now—our fest leaders, the pride of our performing arts—Arista Rivera and Kaelor Han!"
The curtains lifted.
The panic vanished the moment the lights hit.
This was my home.
The opening beat flowed through us like instinct.
No counting.
No cues.
Kaelor moved with controlled power—sharp, precise.
I matched him with fluidity and expression.
When he sang, the hall hushed.
When I joined, our harmonies locked so perfectly it felt unfair.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
During the bridge, the choreography softened.
Kaelor extended his hand.
I took it.
Not rehearsed.
Just natural.
The dance told its story—two people circling, connecting, pulling back, returning.
Not lovers.
Not strangers.
Something unfinished.
I felt safe again. Completely.
The final note rang out.
Silence.
Then the hall erupted.
Standing ovation. Cheers. Shouts of our names.
Backstage, Mira practically tackled me.
"I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR SETTING STANDARDS THIS HIGH."
Zoe fanned herself. "I blinked and forgot every other performer existed."
Sana crossed her arms. "Explain the chemistry."
"It was a performance," I said, weakly.
Mira grinned. "Sure. And I'm the principal."
Kaelor stood a little to the side, calm, composed.
I met his eyes.
"Thanks… again," I said softly.
He smiled—not smug, not proud.
Just real.
"We're good together," he said.
I didn't argue.
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Kaelor's POV
She panicked.
Most people wouldn't have noticed—but I did.
Because Arista Rivera never panicked unless something truly mattered.
Grounding her wasn't a choice. It was instinct.
On stage, she was brilliance. Controlled chaos. Confidence personified.
Off stage, she trusted me enough to let me steady her.
That mattered more than the applause.
When I noticed Derek watching from the side, jaw tight—
Good.
Let him see what real looks like.
When the performance ended, I knew something had shifted.
Not love.
Not yet.
But alignment.
And the stage?
It knew before we did.
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Arista's pov
That night, videos flooded every chat.
Rumors started. Names paired.
But beneath all that noise, one truth settled quietly:
Some people don't calm your storms by fixing them.
Kaelor wasn't even with me at this time , the way he held my hand ,it just stayed with me all along.
They just stand there—
steady enough for you to breathe again.
I know it was a small attraction, but I couldn't feel this hard to gave up on.
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