Brandon's POV
The studio felt smaller the moment I stepped in.
Not because the space itself was cramped—Mr. Pat's home could have held two grand pianos side by side with its space, but because of the silence. A heavy, suffocating kind that swallows you whole and makes your heartbeat pound louder than it should, like prey caught in a trap.
I knew I'd missed something. Felt it in the air, saw it in their faces. Even before the coach's gaze cut my way.
Let's hear it again," the coach said, his voice smooth, clipped, and professional. His accent was faint, just enough to make you lean in to catch every word. He didn't waste time. Didn't need to.
