Luiz kept his eyes on the floor, moving the mop in slow, practiced motions. The rhythm helped him think — or rather, not think.
But it didn't last.
A voice cut through the hum of equipment behind him."Excuse me — you're the cleaner from yesterday, right?"
Luiz straightened. A tall man in a navy suit was walking toward him, holding a tablet and a clipboard. He wore a badge that read "R. Carter – Studio Manager."
"Yes, sir," Luiz replied carefully.
Mr. Carter stopped a few feet away, studying him like he was an unscheduled problem. "You spilled water on the set during recording hours. That's not something we can just overlook."
Luiz nodded. "It won't happen again, sir. I—"
"I'm not finished," Carter interrupted, his tone clipped. "We were lucky the cables weren't damaged. Do you realize what that could've cost us?"
Luiz's jaw tightened, but he stayed calm. "Yes, sir. I understand."
Carter sighed and looked at the bruise on Luiz's face. "You look like you've already had a bad enough day. I'm not firing you — yet. But you'll be on probation. One more mistake, and you're out."
"Understood," Luiz said quietly.
"Good." Carter tapped his tablet, then gestured toward the nearby corridor. "And stay clear of the artists unless you're called. Some of them… can be particular."
Luiz nodded again. "Yes, sir."
The manager turned and walked away.
As Luiz resumed mopping, he caught a glimpse of the singer through the booth's glass again — she was looking at him this time, eyebrows drawn as if she'd overheard everything.
But when their eyes met, she quickly looked away.
He exhaled slowly. Maybe that was for the best.