I hold his gaze on the bridge.
“It’s not the storm that makes you stronger,
it’s the staying when it’s done,
it’s the hands that don’t let go of you
when you finally choose to run toward the sun.”
The gym feels smaller now, more intimate.
When I hit the final chorus, I don’t look at the crowd. I look at him.
“So if the world keeps breaking open,
and the past won’t stay apart,
I’ll be here in every moment
mending hearts.”
There’s no roar at the end. Just applause that builds slowly and then swells.
Luca is on his feet first. Ollie claps like he’s not the reason the song exists.
I step back from the mic, heart pounding for a reason that has nothing to do with stage lights.
Three years ago, we were stabilizing. Now? We’re rooted.
After the set, the kids swarm us. Questions about songwriting, about tour buses, about college dorms and training schedules.
Luca hangs back until the end.
“Thank you,” he says quietly.
“For what?”
“For showing up.”
Ollie answers before I can. “That’s the whole point.”
Luca nods, like he understands more than he did three years ago.
When the gym empties and the equipment’s packed away, we’re left standing in the fading light of early evening.
“All good?” Ollie asks.
“Definitely.”
He studies me like he always does after I perform something personal.
“No spirals?” he asks gently.
“None.”
He nods once.
We walk out of the gym together, hands brushing but not fully linked. We don’t need to hold on tight anymore. Outside, the sky is streaked with pink and gold.
