When Harper got home, she tossed her purse onto the couch and sat down with the script in hand. She read it carefully—line by line, scene by scene—yet the more she read, the stronger a feeling grew in her chest.
Sophia was hiding something.
Her best friend always had that calm, mysterious air about her, like a woman who carried too many secrets in too small a heart.
Harper sighed, grabbed her phone, and did what she always did when she couldn't sleep—scrolled through the trending list.
The top post made her freeze.
A "mysterious composer's" new album.
Her thumb hovered before tapping it open.
The moment the first notes played, her brows furrowed.
That voice—soft, smooth, threaded with melancholy—was too familiar.
As if to confirm what she already knew, she bought the album and let it play again. By the time the chorus hit, she was sitting completely still, the phone glowing faintly in her hand.
Sophia… it's you, isn't it?
