The next morning, Lyra woke up to her name trending for a different reason.
Not scandal.
Not rumors.
Her post from the rehearsal hall had gone viral overnight. Fans, artists, even critics were sharing it with captions about resilience, focus, authenticity.
The narrative had shifted.
Slightly.
But noticeably.
Lyra sat on the edge of the bed scrolling through comments she didn't fully process.
"He hasn't messaged," she said.
Aurelian, already dressed and reading news updates, glanced at her. "He's watching the response."
"He doesn't like losing control."
"No," Aurelian said. "He likes adapting to it."
Lyra sighed. "That man is exhausting."
---
By noon, invitations began arriving.
Talk shows. Interviews. Live sessions. People suddenly interested in her "strength under pressure."
Mara called, excited. "This is good, Lyra. This is really good. The industry is backing you now."
Lyra felt strange about it.
"I didn't do anything."
"You stood," Mara said. "That's enough."
Lyra hung up and looked at Aurelian. "Is this what he wanted?"
Aurelian shook his head. "No."
"What then?"
"He wanted you unstable. You're becoming visible instead."
That word settled in her mind.
Visible.
Not watched.
Visible.
---
At 3 p.m., the silence broke.
A message from Elias.
Visibility is dangerous. People start choosing sides.
Lyra read it without emotion this time.
She showed Aurelian.
He nodded slightly. "He's uncomfortable."
"Good," Lyra replied.
She typed back.
Then choose one.
Minutes passed.
No response.
---
That evening, Lyra insisted on going out again.
Not for rebellion.
For normalcy.
Aurelian accompanied her without argument.
They walked through a busy street market filled with noise, color, people too distracted to care about hidden wars.
Lyra bought roasted corn from a street vendor and laughed when the spice made her cough.
Aurelian watched her with something unreadable in his eyes.
"You don't belong in this kind of chaos," she teased lightly.
"I grew up in worse," he replied.
She looked at him, surprised. "You never talk about before."
"Because it doesn't matter now."
"It matters to me," she said.
That stopped him for a moment.
---
Her phone buzzed again.
Elias.
A photo.
Taken from across the street.
Of her laughing with corn in her hand.
No caption.
Lyra stared at it.
Then, slowly, she smiled.
She lifted the corn, posed exaggeratedly toward where she suspected he was standing, and took a selfie.
She sent it to him.
No text.
Just the picture.
Aurelian watched her carefully. "That was bold."
"No," she said. "That was insulting."
Seconds later, a reply.
You're turning this into theatre.
Lyra typed back.
You started the show.
For the first time since this began, Elias sent no follow-up.
No correction.
No psychological twist.
Just silence.
And this time—
The silence felt like hesitation.