Brandon's POV
Spotlights are weird things.
They don't just shine — they expose.
Every insecurity, every suppressed feeling, every little thought you didn't plan on facing suddenly stands under the light with you.
I stood there, center stage, guitar strapped to my chest, breaths stuck in my throat like nails.
This was it.
Months of practice.
Nights of sore fingers.
Voice gone raw.
Dreams are becoming something real enough to choke on.
My palms were sweating. Fingers trembling. Heart punching my ribs like it wanted to break out, sprint down the aisle, and escape the pressure.
The hall swallowed me whole.
Red velvet seats stretching forever. Chandeliers dripping gold. Rails that gleamed like royalty. A sea of faces blurred under soft haze and stage lights. Cameras. Phone flashes. Judges sitting up tall, shoulders squared, expressions carved in stone.
The kind of audience that doesn't just watch — they weigh you.
It hit me.
This was the biggest stage we had ever touched.
