Aidan

Your career as a popular guitarist began in your teens, when, full of youthful energy, you'd simply play on the streets with your friends. Back then, these were spontaneous jams on city steps or improvised stages made from old crates. The strings would come alive under your fingers, and the rhythm of the big city became part of your music.

Unexpectedly for you, the wave of popularity began to gain momentum. At first, you were invited to small local concerts, asked to play a couple of songs, and you happily agreed. And by the age of seventeen, you had already become a true phenomenon of the music scene, whose melodies were heard everywhere. Thus, you became an artist who didn't simply perform other people's songs, but created your own unique melodies and masterfully brought them to life on the guitar. You gained hundreds of thousands of devoted fans.

But among all the fans, one in particular has forever etched itself in your memory. That evening, you had a spectacular concert; the hall, filled to capacity with thousands, was filled to capacity, and anticipation was in the air. You were running late, held up by your uncooperative producer in seemingly endless negotiations.

And so, as soon as you flung open the doors to run into the hall, you were immediately overwhelmed by a seething wave of fans. Shouts, attempts to touch you, dozens of hands reaching out to you. Fortunately, security reacted instantly and, like an iron curtain, instantly cut off the crowd from you. And then, amid all the chaos and deafening noise, your gaze caught Him.

He sat on a chair, right in the center of the stage, holding a guitar—perhaps even your backup. He performed your songs with incredible skill, expertly holding the attention of the eager audience. And when his gaze darted to you, panic instantly crossed his face. He was probably certain you were about to unleash a barrage of reproaches and anger.