The price of fame

The lights were blinding, the roar of the crowd was deafening. This was my world, one I'd built myself, with every aching moment of sacrifice. And yet, there was one person who could rattle me.

I knew he was out there before I saw him. Something in the air shifted. I'd felt this before, years ago, when I was just a girl with dreams too big and a heart too fragile.

Mason.

The name burned in my heart as I stepped into the widening spotlight, after all these years I'd mastered the art of being untouchable, of existing as an idea more than a person. But now, with him somewhere in the crowd, my foundation felt like it might crack.

Fang was already on stage, he shot me a quick glance , the corner of his mouth lifting in a knowing smirk. He'd sensed my hesitation.

As I walked on stage, my eyes scanning the crowd instinctively. I told myself it was just part of the act, but when my gaze landed on him, leaning casually against the barricade, his dark eyes locked into mine, it felt like the ground beneath me shifted.

I forced my gaze away, focusing on the music. This was what I lived for, the sheer power of holding thousands in the palm of my hand. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't keep my eyes from drifting back to him. He stood out in the crowd, his intensity cutting through the chaos. 

Fang stepped closer, his voice deep and steady as he harmonized with mine. His hand brushed against my arm, a subtle reminder to stay present. I responded instinctively, my voice rising to meet his as the song built, but gaze betrayed me. I looked for him again, unable to resist.

 Mason's expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with something I couldn't quite name. Whatever it was, it sent a shiver down my spine.

I turned away quickly, my heart pounded, the adrenaline from the performance mingling with something far more dangerous. I wasn't the girl he used to know, the one who wore her heart on her sleeve and who had dreams and hope. I was Pink Lavender now, confident, composed, untouchable. Or so I thought.

"Scarlett." Fang's voice pulled me from my thoughts. His expression soft but curious. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," I said quickly, forcing a smile. 

He didn't look convinced, but he let it go. 

The next time I stepped onto the stage I threw myself into the performance, letting the music take over, letting the rhythm and melody remind me of who I was and what I'd worked for. 

Mason's presence was like a magnetic pull, drawing my eyes to him no matter how hard I tried to resist. I hated the way he still affected me, the way he could unravel years of carefully constructed armour with just a look. I hated it because it felt like he still owned a piece of me.

The ballad was my moment of vulnerability, the one part of the show where I let the crowd see the cracks beneath the polished surface. As I sang, I felt the weight of the lyrics like a confession. It was a song I had written about him, but I wondered if he'd even know it was directed to him.

And then, my eyes found him again.

This time our gazes locked, and it felt like the air between us shifted. He was looking at me like he used to, like I was the only thing that mattered in the world. 

He knew. He knew I saw him, knew that even after all these years, he could still shake me.

Then, as the lights dimmed and the stage began to fade, I glanced back one last time.

He was still watching, his eyes unrelenting. This time, I didn't look away.

Backstage it was quiet, the kind of silence that only emphasized how loud my thoughts were. I'd performed for thousands tonight, let their cheers and energy wash over me, but it was this moment, the one after the lights and music, that always left me restless. Normally, I'd let the stillness comfort me, a moment to recover from the intensity. Tonight, though, my heart hadn't stopped racing since I'd seen him.

Now, I was waiting, anticipation making my pulse thunder. I hadn't been able to resist sending the message to his phone, a simple but deliberate invitation: "Meet me backstage."

The knock on the door came sooner than I expected. My assistant poked her head in, a small smile playing on her lips. "They're here."

I nodded, as the door opened fully. Mason stepped in, his presence filling the room as effortlessly as it always had. My breath caught, taking him in. He had changed, his jaw sharper, his hair shorter, his expression more guarded. But his eyes? They were the same, and they hit me like a train.

He wasn't alone. Two young girls trailed behind him, their wide-eyed wonder unmistakable. Clutching their glittery banners and vibrating with excitement. The sight of them softened something in me.

"Pink Lavender!" one of them gasped, her voice trembling with awe.

I smiled warmly, my gaze flicking back to Mason. "Mason, it's been a while." I said softly, my voice steady despite the thousand emotions swirling inside me.

"It has," he replied, his voice lower and rougher than I remembered, but still achingly familiar.

"Why don't you introduce me to your company?" 

"I'm Jae!" the first girl blurted, her face a mix of awe and excitement.

"And I'm Hea!" The other girl added, her voice barely above a squeak.

I crouched slightly, meeting their wide-eyed gazes. "Hi, Jae. Hi, Hea. It's so nice to meet you. 

"Uncle Mason, how do you know Pink Lavender?" Jae asked suddenly, after the initial introduction and comments from the girls. Her sharp eyes narrowing as she glanced between us.

Mason hesitated, his gaze meeting mine as though asking permission. I gave him a small nod and smiled. "It's a long story, but a long time ago, before I was Pink Lavender, I was just Scarlett. And your uncle and I... well, we knew each other..."

Jae's eyes widened dramatically, her jaw dropping. "Wait, you two dated?!"

Her boldness drew a laugh from me, soft and genuine. "We did," I admitted, glancing at Mason to see a faint smile on his lips.

"What happened?" Hea asked, her tone more curious than accusing. "Why didn't you stay together?"

"We were young, and life pulled us in different directions."

Mason stepped in, "One day, Scarlett moved across the country. Then... one night, she called me from an unknown number. When she wouldn't tell me where she was, I ended things."

The words hit harder than I expected. "It wasn't anyone's fault," I added quickly.

For a moment, Jae and Hea were quiet, their excitement dimmed by the weight of the story. But their wide-eyed expressions held something else now, sympathy, understanding.

"Did you ever think you'd see each other again?" Hea asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

I glanced at Mason, my breath catching. "No," I said honestly. "Not like this."

Jae, ever the bold one, broke the silence with a question that made my heart stutter. "Do you still like Uncle Mason?"

Her audacity drew a laugh from me, though it was tinged with nervousness. Mason choked on a laugh of his own, shaking his head. "Jae!"

"What? It's a valid question!" she said defensively, her eyes wide with innocence.

I glanced at Mason, catching the faintest blush on his cheeks, and found myself smiling despite the knot in my chest. "You two are a handful," I teased, my voice warm. "Your uncle's lucky to have you keeping him on his toes."

"He needs us," Hea said proudly, making us all laugh again.

The conversation shifted, and the girls bombarded me with questions about my career, my music, and what it was like to be an idol, their excitement lifting the weight of the air beteen mason and I.

But Mason… He was quieter, every so often, his eyes would catch mine, and in those moments, it felt like the years melted away. I wondered if he felt it too, the pull of what we used to have, lingering in the spaces between us.

As we made our way to the exit, I walked beside Mason, the girls darting ahead, still buzzing with excitement. For this moment, it was just the two of us. We stopped just before the exit, and I turned to him. "This doesn't have to be the end of the story, you know," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

He looked at me, his expression unreadable but his eyes full of something unspoken. "No," he said finally, his voice rough but sure. "It doesn't."

I smiled, though my chest tightened with emotions I wasn't ready to name. "Goodnight, Mason."

"Goodnight, Scarlett."