Misty never liked the idea of Brando becoming famous. The thought haunted her—that once he tasted the spotlight, he might turn his attention to other women. She kept a constant, watchful eye on him, guarding him as if the mere presence of other admirers could pull him away.
Now, in the cramped dressing room backstage, Brando and Alvin were quietly packing his things. The air between them was heavy with frustration. The contest outside was still going on, but for Brando, it was already over. His journey had ended earlier than expected.
The door creaked open, and Misty stepped in. She crossed the room and knelt beside Brando, her voice soft and syrupy.
"Don't worry, my darling. There are still plenty of contests you can join soon," she murmured, brushing her fingers against his arm.
Brando kept his eyes on the floor, silent. Alvin, leaning against the wall, suddenly spoke.
