“Mirei! Mirei!”

  The voice sounded distant at first, but it grew louder as someone tapped her shoulder. Mirei blinked in surprise, her vision swimming slightly. “Huh?” she responded, turning to see a staff member looking at her with concern.

  “Mirei, you look pale, and you’re short of breath. Are you okay? You don’t look good at all,” the staff member said, their voice ced with worry.

  Mirei faltered, her knees threatening to give out. She had been feeling off ever since the final performance ended, but she had brushed it aside, chalking it up to exhaustion. Now, though, her head felt light, and her chest constricted as though an invisible weight pressed down on her.

  “I-I’m fine,” Mirei managed to say, her voice barely audible and trembling. But the dizziness worsened, and the world around her began to spin.

  The staff member didn’t wait for her to protest further. They quickly called for oxygen. "Someone get an oxygen tank, now!" they yelled, their tone sharp and commanding. Mirei staggered slightly as they guided her to sit on a nearby chair.

  It felt like she couldn’t catch her breath. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, each inhale shallow and unsatisfying. Her fingers began to tingle, and her vision blurred, the edges of her surroundings fading in and out. Panic cwed at her throat.

  “What’s happening to me?” she thought, her heart pounding against her ribcage.

  The staff brought the oxygen tank, pcing the mask gently over her face. “Breathe slowly, Mirei. In and out,” they instructed. But it was easier said than done. Her body was betraying her, and it felt as if she were drowning on dry nd.

  Her mind reeled, bringing forth fragmented memories—days of grueling practice, sleepless nights, and the pressure to meet expectations. It was a relentless cycle, and now her body was finally breaking under the weight of it all.

  The other members of Celestial rushed into the room, their faces etched with worry. “Mirei!” Minami knelt beside her, gripping her hand. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  “I…I don’t know,” Mirei whispered, her voice shaky. Tears pricked her eyes as she struggled to compose herself. This had never happened before, and the sheer unfamiliarity of it terrified her.

  “Calm down, Mirei,” Ayumi said softly, her hand resting on Mirei’s shoulder. “You’re going to be okay. Just take your time.”

  After what felt like an eternity, Mirei’s breathing began to stabilize. The oxygen worked its magic, and the haze in her mind started to clear. She leaned back against the chair, utterly drained.

  “Thank you,” she murmured to the staff who had helped her. They nodded, relieved to see her improving. “Please take care of yourself, Mirei,” they said before leaving the room.

  As the members and staff prepared to head home, Mirei remained seated, trying to gather her strength. Tomorrow was the final concert of their tour, and she couldn’t afford to fall apart now.

  ---

  Back at the dorm, Mirei y on her bed, staring at the ceiling. The room was quiet, but her mind was anything but. Memories of the concert flooded her thoughts—Kaede, Yukina, and Risa in the audience, the banner, the way Kaede tried to hide her embarrassment. Mirei smiled faintly, but the guilt gnawed at her.

  She had chosen her career over Kaede, and yet she still longed for her, selfishly hoping Kaede would keep looking her way. “What am I doing?” Mirei whispered to herself, rubbing her temples.

  A knock on the door interrupted her chaotic thoughts.

  “Yes?” she called out, sitting up.

  “It’s me,” Minami’s voice came from the other side. “Are you feeling better?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay now,” Mirei replied, opening the door. Minami stood there, hesitating slightly before stepping inside.

  “Good,” Minami said, gncing around the room. But there was something in her expression—an unease that Mirei couldn’t ignore.

  “What’s bothering you, Minami?” Mirei asked, closing the door behind her.

  Minami sighed, biting her lip. “Can I ask you something? In private?”

  “Sure,” Mirei said, gesturing for her to sit down.

  Minami sat on the edge of the bed, her hands csped tightly. “She was there, wasn’t she? Your ex?”

  Mirei froze, her heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean?” she asked, trying to py dumb.

  “I saw you waving in her direction,” Minami said bluntly. “You were looking at her section for most of the concert. Don’t deny it.”

  Mirei’s cheeks flushed. She hadn’t realized Minami had been paying such close attention. “I… I invited her and her friends,” Mirei admitted reluctantly.

  Minami’s eyes widened. “Why? Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  “She came as a friend,” Mirei said quickly. “There’s nothing going on between us anymore. I just wanted to show her what we’ve achieved.”

  Minami sighed deeply, rubbing her temples. “Mirei, you need to be careful. Don’t let your emotions get in the way. This is our dream, remember?”

  “I know,” Mirei said softly, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I won’t let it interfere, I promise.”

  Minami stood, her expression softening slightly. “Just don’t mess up, okay? We’ve worked too hard for this.”

  “I won’t,” Mirei said firmly, though the weight of her guilt and longing lingered in her chest.

  “Good. Get some rest,” Minami said, heading for the door. “We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

  “Good night,” Mirei called after her.

  ---

  Left alone again, Mirei y back on her bed, her thoughts drifting once more to Kaede. The image of the banner fshed in her mind, and she couldn’t help but chuckle. “That’s so not like her,” she thought, imagining how embarrassed Kaede must have felt.

  Despite everything, seeing Kaede in the audience had made Mirei’s heart soar. It was a bittersweet feeling—one that left her both happy and aching. As exhaustion finally overtook her, Mirei drifted into a restless sleep, her dreams filled with the echoes of the concert and the girl who still held a piece of her heart.