How Did It End? (HamBebe)

It Was the Great Escape, the Prison Break |The Light of Freedom on My Face

Sheena's life had been a machine, a relentless, glittering treadmill that never stopped, never let her rest. She had spent her whole life performing, not just on stage but in every moment of every day, in front of fans, family, and even herself. As a child, she'd once dreamed of living freely, of waking up without the weight of expectation pressing down on her shoulders. But in the world of show business, dreams took a backseat to the demands of fame, and she had learned to bury her own heart beneath a polished smile and practiced lines.

Each day was a blur of rehearsals and performances, a demanding schedule that devoured her energy and left no space for reflection. It wasn't until Bini decided to slow down and focus on solo careers that the silence crept in—the kind of silence that forces a person to see themselves, even the parts they'd rather not face. Sheena had never learned how to truly be alone, how to confront herself without the glitter and applause of her career to drown out the emptiness inside.

In those quiet moments, she realized how much she had lost, how deeply she had abandoned parts of herself. She had never allowed herself to pause, to feel, to wonder what she might actually want beyond the endless applause. And so, she ran from those feelings, numbing herself with a string of relationships that felt more like acting gigs than love. Each boyfriend was a role to play, a buffer against the loneliness she refused to acknowledge, a distraction from the fears and doubts she was too afraid to face. She would say the right words, play the perfect girlfriend, but she knew it was all just another performance, another hollow attempt at feeling something real.

It was the best of times, the worst of crimes
I struck a match and blew your mind

Sheena had long convinced herself that she could find comfort in those fleeting relationships, that with every boyfriend, she was edging closer to some semblance of happiness. But none of them ever touched her heart; none of them broke through the walls she had built to protect herself from the pain she carried. They were placeholders, temporary fixes that masked a truth she couldn't bring herself to admit.

Then there was Josh. He wasn't just another guy—he was steady, kind, someone who promised her a different kind of love, a lasting one. Her friends loved him, her family welcomed him as if he were a part of them. She tried so hard to make it work with him, to believe that maybe he was the one who could finally help her quiet the storm inside. For a moment, she almost let herself believe. But even with Josh, that ache remained, the quiet, persistent whisper that she was hiding from herself.

When she closed her eyes, it wasn't Josh's face she saw—it was Gwen's.

Gwen had tried to pull her closer to the truth, tried to make her face her reality back then, even when they were younger. But Sheena had resisted. She hadn't wanted to see the truth Gwen reflected back to her, the truth she now couldn't ignore.

But I didn't mean it, and you didn't see it

In the quiet of her own mind, where the noise of fame faded and the thrill of applause died down, a different kind of ache surfaced—a familiar one, but it was patient. It lingered in the quiet spaces, like a melody only she could hear, woven into the fabric of her life in ways she was just beginning to understand.

She thought about Josh, about how hard she had tried to love him. About the promise he held and the safety he offered. Yet, even when he held her, it was never his warmth she sought—it was something else. Someone else. And that realization hit her harder than she'd anticipated, in the cracks between memories she had buried, moments she had pretended were nothing more than friendship.

When Gwen came back after days of silence, Sheena felt the ground beneath her shift. Her emotions, already raw and jagged from the breakup, flared into confusion and longing she couldn't understand. She tried to reason with herself a thousand times over, to tell herself that Gwen is just her best friend—that losing her was a pain she could bury, like everything else. But the dream kept replaying in her mind. Oh, THAT dream that had unsettled her more than she'd ever admit. It felt like a spark of something she'd been suppressing for far too long, a hint of what had always been there, hiding in the periphery of her heart.