The melodies of our hearts

Chapter 1

The night air was thick with anticipation, humming with the energy of a crowd waiting to be electrified. Lena Collins weaved her way through the maze of festival-goers, clutching her press pass like it was a life preserver. Around her, fans chattered and laughed, their excitement contagious. For them, this was an escape, a night to scream, dance, and lose themselves. For Lena, it was work—though she couldn't deny a part of her had missed this. Music pulsed through the outdoor arena, low and heavy like a heartbeat. She found herself at the edge of the stage, close enough to see the instruments waiting under dimmed lights. The set belonged to Wolfe & Company, the final act of the night and, by far, the one everyone was here to see.

"Collins, you made it!" a familiar voice called over the din. Alex, her editor, was somehow still grinning despite the chaos of the festival.

"I'm here," she replied, pushing a stray curl out of her eyes. "Not sure I'd call it 'making it' yet."

"You'll do great. Besides, just think of the article—'Behind the Music of a Generation.' They're the band of the year. You'll have enough material to make it one hell of a piece."

Lena nodded, even though the title itself felt daunting. But a profile on Wolfe & Company was exactly what her career needed, even if she couldn't help feeling like an outsider. Famous for his intense, soul-baring lyrics, the lead singer Elliot Wolfe was as much of an enigma off-stage as he was a powerhouse on it. Almost no one got close to him.

The lights suddenly dimmed further, and the crowd erupted in an ecstatic roar. Lena felt the energy ripple through her, the bass in her chest. Then, the stage lights snapped on, flooding the arena in vibrant reds and blues as the band took the stage. And there, at the center of it all, was Elliot Wolfe.

Tall, dark hair tousled just so, he moved to the microphone with a confident ease. His gaze swept over the audience, eyes half-lidded, a smirk playing at his lips. His presence was magnetic, even from the side of the stage. Lena found herself holding her breath, caught up in his spell with everyone else.

The opening notes of the first song rang out, sharp and piercing, and the crowd surged forward. His voice was raw, gravelly, a sound that carried both power and a strange kind of vulnerability. She knew every word of this song, though she'd never admit it. It was the type of music that got under your skin, made you feel things you weren't sure you wanted to feel. As he sang, Lena scribbled notes, but her focus kept drifting back to him. Elliot didn't just perform—he gave everything. Each lyric, each movement, felt like an invitation into his world, dark and complex.

Between songs, he leaned into the microphone, giving the crowd a lopsided smile. "It's good to see you all here tonight," he drawled, his voice deep that made her pulse quicken. "This next one is for everyone who's ever loved and lost."

He glanced down at the first row of fans, his gaze searching, vulnerable for just a second before hardening again. Lena thought she saw his eyes sweep over to the press pit, lingering just a little too long in her direction. But she brushed the thought away—it was a silly notion. There was no reason he'd look at her.

For the next hour, she forgot she was there to work. She was just a face in the crowd, completely absorbed by the raw energy that pulsed from the stage. She felt each note, each rise and fall, like it was crafted for her, wrapping around her heart and tugging at something she didn't often let herself feel.

When the final chords of their encore faded, the crowd exploded into applause, cheers, and tears. Elliot gave a brief nod, his expression unreadable, before he turned and walked offstage, disappearing into the shadows.

Lena took a deep breath, collecting herself, trying to snap back into work mode. But as she packed up her notebook, she couldn't shake the strange feeling that the night had marked something. Whether she'd just witnessed a glimpse of someone's soul on stage—or merely been swept away by his carefully crafted allure—she didn't know. She turned to head backstage, her heart still pounding, her skin tingling with the echoes of the music.

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