Chatting...
Zane: "Good morning, sweetie."
Me: "Morning."
Zane: "How are you, sweetheart?"
Me: "I'm fine. Anyway, I'll be busy again today, so let's just do what we need to do. Take care, okay?"
Zane: "Honey, why are you hiding things from me? Why don't you ask me anything?"
Me: "Ask what?"
Zane: "If you want to get my attention, you don't have to act distant. Be real with me."
Me: "Alright… well, I'm just setting my time for work and class. I'm taking a Korean language course."
Zane: "Wow, that's nice."
I could tell he was hinting at something deeper, but I refused to take the bait. I told myself it was friendship, nothing more. But he didn't see it that way.
I started to question him about that love confession and the rumors about Selene. I also told him that sometimes his rants online made me uncomfortable—especially when he kept insisting I tell him everything about myself: my family, my problems, even my savings. Once, he told me, "You can ask me for anything. I'll give it if it means keeping you here."
That unsettled me.
Out of frustration, I said something I regretted right after:
"I feel like you're playing with me. You like someone else, but you're pretending to be my boyfriend."
He didn't reply that night.
Instead, he went live again. His tone was sharper, angrier. He denied the rumors linking him to Selene and said people were twisting his words. Fans flooded the chat with speculation, but he never once mentioned me.
I tried to cheer him up after that, but he ignored me. I typed and deleted messages, over and over, until I ended up writing a full paragraph of apologies I never thought I'd send. Finally, the next morning, he replied.
Zane: "I feel hurt by what people are saying."
Me: "I know. But next time, maybe… think of the girl you mention too. It could affect her, you know?"
He didn't say much after that, but our chats slowly returned to normal.
Days turned into weeks. Then months.
We grew closer, though I still didn't know what we were. He told me stories from his hectic life. Sometimes he'd message me right before a show, or during late nights when he couldn't sleep.
Zane: "Jeanna, I wish we could meet someday. Just a short vacation. One day, maybe?"
His words always lingered longer than I wanted them to.
---
Meanwhile, life on my side stayed grounded.
"Jeanna," my brother said one morning, "I hope you're doing well in your class. You've just graduated, right? Maybe you can start helping out with family expenses soon."
My aunt added, "And please, no boyfriends yet. Focus on your future first."
I just nodded, silent.
They had no idea.
Since my older sister got pregnant before finishing college, they were stricter with me. I couldn't tell them about Zane, not even as a "friend."
He often asked why I was hiding so much from him. Once, he told me,
Zane: "By the end of this year, I have a surprise—for my fans and for you, love."
His tone made me uneasy. When he started asking for my address, my heart skipped for the wrong reasons. I couldn't imagine him showing up, not in my world.
I wanted to focus on my dreams first, to make something of myself before giving my heart away again. But Zane's presence kept pulling me back.
When I tried to take a break, it didn't go as planned.
Zane: "Hi, sweetheart."
Me: "Hey there."
Zane: "Sorry for being busy. I barely have time these days."
Me: "It's okay. I see your updates through fans. Just… take care of yourself."
Zane: "Thanks, hon. I just wanted to talk to you before my show."
That night, around 11 PM, he messaged again.
Zane: "We're celebrating today—no schedules, just fun. For the holiday."
Me: "Oh, a celebration? Does that include alcohol?"
Zane: "Yeah. I already drank too much, I think."
Me: "What? Are you even allowed to drink that much? Don't you have rehearsals tomorrow?"
Zane: "It's fine. I just wish we could go on a vacation together. I want to see you. Just for a day. Maybe you can ask my manager for it."
Me: "You mean you can't ask for it yourself?"
Zane: "No…"
He stopped replying after that.
I assumed he'd fallen asleep, but the thought that he messaged me again around 3 AM the next day made me whisper to myself, "Did he even sleep?"
That was when I knew—I had to end it, no matter how much it hurt.
I tried explaining, but he took it the wrong way. My frustration spilled out in words harsher than I meant.
"I don't want you to keep doing things for me. I don't want to be your girlfriend. I have my reasons, Zane. And I can't choose you over my life right now. I wanted to explain, but you never have time!"
He read the message.
But he didn't reply.
Guilt ate me alive. I apologized the next day, softer this time. He only replied with—
Zane: "Good morning, sweetheart."
As if nothing had happened.
I sighed and wrote him one last message.
"I'll come to you one day, Zane. I promise I won't be with anyone else… unless you already found someone by then."
After that, silence.
He stopped messaging.
I kept following his music, and every new song felt like a continuation of our story—our invisible thread, stretching but never breaking.
A year passed. Nothing happened. Until one day, he posted something again.
Jeanna's post: "The earth is round. No matter how far that place is, it's still near… As long as we're under the same sky, you'll always feel close."
Zane's post: "Between the sky and the ocean—will we ever change, in this boundlessness?"
Jeanna's Monologue – "The Stranger Who Sang to My Heart"
I used to think moments like that never mattered.
Just a passing encounter — a voice you hear, a face you remember for a while, then forget once the noise of life takes over. But with Zane… it wasn't like that.
I was just another face in the crowd, another pair of eyes among thousands who watched him perform. I wasn't even a die-hard fan. But when he looked my way — even just for a second — it felt like he saw through the noise. Like he sang straight to me.
I told myself it was nothing. That people like him and people like me live in different worlds. And yet, somehow, fate kept finding small ways to remind me of that one brief connection — a message, a chance encounter, a conversation that lasted longer than it should've.
He was warm. Gentle. The kind of person who made you forget he was someone everyone wanted. And for a while, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, he noticed me too — not as a fan, but as someone real.
But then reality stepped in.
He had his world — the stage, the lights, the people who adored him. And I had mine — quiet, simple, ordinary. I watched from afar as his career grew, as his songs filled places I'd never reach.
Deep down, I knew… Zane was never really mine to lose. He was just a beautiful chapter I stumbled into, a melody that played softly in a part of my life that needed music.
He was the stranger who sang to my heart — and maybe that's enough.
Because even if he never looked back, I'll always be grateful he once sang a song that made me feel seen. And that, for me… will always be love, in its quietest form.