Part 2
One years had passed since that night.
Adrian's career was stronger than ever — his world tour had sold out, his face lit up billboards from Tokyo to New York, and the word scandal hadn't touched him since.
But at night, he still double-checked the locks before going to bed.
Some habits never faded.
He'd almost forgotten her — Mira, the fan who had broken into his home.
The court had sentenced her to a psychiatric facility for treatment, and Adrian had tried to put it behind him. He told himself she'd get better. That maybe she'd move on.
Then one morning, his manager dropped a plain white envelope on the table.
"It came to the office," she said. "No return address. Probably fan mail — I can toss it if you want."
Adrian hesitated. Something about the handwriting made his stomach twist.
He opened it.
Inside was a single page, written neatly in blue ink.
Hello, Adrian.
I've learned a lot. They said I was sick, but I'm better now. I finally understand you — the real you.
You were right about the light. It never dies.
I'm coming to see you soon. I can't wait for us to start again — properly this time.
Love always, Mira.
Adrian's blood ran cold.
The letter wasn't dated. It didn't say where she was. But the postmark showed it had been mailed from the same city where his next concert would be — London.
He handed the letter to his manager, trying to sound calm.
"Contact security," he said quietly.
That night, Adrian couldn't sleep. Every sound outside his window made him flinch. Every shadow looked like a figure watching.
When the concert day arrived, extra guards surrounded the venue. Fans screamed and waved banners, unaware of the tension behind the scenes.
Halfway through the show, during his final ballad — the one called "Only Light" — Adrian spotted something in the crowd.
A woman standing completely still. No phone. No sign. Just staring at him.
Her hair was shorter now. Her face thinner. But those eyes — he'd never forget those eyes.
Mira.
His voice cracked mid-song. For a heartbeat, the world tilted. Security began to move in her direction, but when the lights flashed — she was gone.
After the concert, they searched everywhere. The seats, the exits, the hallways — nothing.
All they found was a sunflower left on the edge of the stage.
And beneath it, a note written on a torn ticket stub:
You sang beautifully. I'm proud of you.
Adrian stared at it for a long time, his chest tight with something between fear and sorrow.
The next morning, he canceled his next few shows. The official statement said "health reasons."
But only he knew the truth —
Somewhere out there, someone still watched.
Someone who believed their love was eternal.
Someone who had promised to come back.