The waiting room was too quiet.
Aster sat with the script in his lap, his fingers lightly drumming against the page. His breath was steady—but only because he'd been forcing it to be. His callback slot was third. The two actors before him had already gone in, one looking cool and confident, the other pacing in frantic circles before vanishing behind the tall studio door.
"Aster Collin," the assistant called.
He stood, nodded once, and followed her down the hallway.
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
Inside, the casting room looked the same as it always did. Sparse. White-walled. A table lined with serious-looking executives. A camera on a tripod. A folding chair on an X taped to the floor.
Jace gave him a subtle thumbs up from the side. His eyes were unreadable, but his body language was relaxed. Confident.
Aster stepped onto the X and faced the room.
"Whenever you're ready," one of the directors said, not unkindly.
Aster took one breath.
Then another.
And began.
He wasn't acting.
Not really.
He was being.
The lines came to life not from muscle memory, but from the depth of emotion he had finally let himself feel. The anger. The heartbreak. The quiet dignity of someone choosing to walk away from pain instead of chasing the impossible.
It wasn't perfect. He stumbled slightly once, swallowed hard another time.
But it was real.
And that was all that mattered.
When he finished, there was a long moment of silence.
Then someone exhaled. A quiet breath of awe.
"Thank you," the lead director said, eyes sharper now. "That was... remarkable."
Aster blinked. "Thank you, sir."
They murmured to each other behind the table. Notes were taken. A woman at the far end tilted her head and said, "You haven't acted for a while, have you?"
Aster straightened his posture. "No. I took a break. But I'm back now."
She smiled. "It doesn't feel like you ever left."
Jace clapped him on the back as soon as they stepped into the hallway.
"You killed it."
"You think so?" Aster asked, still a bit dazed.
"I know so," Jace said. "They're already asking for your available dates. I'll handle the schedule. Just stay alive and avoid any scandal for the next twenty-four hours."
"That's... wow. Okay."
Jace rolled his eyes fondly. "You really don't get how good you are, huh?"
Aster flushed slightly. "I just—this feels like a dream."
"Better get used to it."
He stepped outside the building into the soft golden light of late afternoon and, before he could think twice, pulled out his phone.
His thumb hovered over Adrian's name.
He didn't have to call.
But he wanted to.
The line barely rang once.
"Aster?"
He exhaled at the sound of that voice. "Hey. Sorry. I just—uh. I got the part."
A beat.
Then Adrian said, "Of course you did."
Aster smiled despite himself. "You sound like you expected it."
"I did."
A pause.
Then, softer: "But I'm still proud of you."
Aster's throat went tight.
"You went in there, on your own, no backup, no favors. And you did it. That's yours. No one can take that from you."
Aster stared at the concrete beneath his feet.
The cars passing by. The breeze tugging at his jacket.
And the heat blooming under his skin from the warmth in Adrian's voice.
"...Thank you."
Adrian's tone shifted, playful again. "Dinner tonight. My treat."
Aster blinked. "What?"
"You, me, and Finn. A little celebration. I know a place he'll like."
Aster hesitated. "You're not busy?"
"I'll make time."
"You really don't have to—"
"I want to."
Aster bit back a smile. "Okay. Sure. Just text me the time."
"I'll pick you up."
"Adrian—"
"I'm proud of you, Aster," Adrian said again, quiet but firm. "You should celebrate."
Aster was still smiling when he hung up.
He tucked the phone back into his coat pocket and stood on the steps of the building, face tilted toward the sun.
For a long time, he had thought that rebirth would be quiet. That he'd have to rebuild his life alone, one stone at a time.
But here he was—with the first stone already in place.
And maybe, just maybe...
He wouldn't have to build it alone after all.