A week had passed since Victoire had fallen into a coma. His friends — Daniella, Andrea, and Ryder — were slowly returning to a strange routine, a daily life without him. With heavy hearts, they had just come back from the hospital, their eyes still red from crying, silence hanging heavy between them.
Each of them returned to their homes. Night had already fallen. The moon cast a soft glow into their rooms where memories of friendship, music, and laughter still lingered.
Daniella opened her bedroom door and froze. A blue envelope was lying neatly on her bed, sealed and pristine. She walked over cautiously, her brows furrowed. Her name was written on it in elegant handwriting.
"This is weird…" she whispered.
With trembling fingers, she opened the envelope. Inside was a neatly printed letter on high-quality paper.
> Dear Daniella,
You have been selected, along with Andrea and Ryder, to become rising stars in the music world. A video of the four of you singing in the street reached one of the greatest music producers in Washington. He was deeply moved by your song, written by someone named 'Victoire'.
In two days, a team will come to pick you up and bring you to Washington. Prepare for a new chapter in your life.
— The Agency
Daniella's hands began to shake.
"This… can't be real," she said aloud, her heart racing.
She grabbed her phone and quickly dialed Andrea's number.
"Hello? Andrea?" she asked.
"Yes? You saw it too?" Andrea replied, her voice rushed. "The blue envelope?"
"Yes… Do you think it's true?"
"Ryder just called me. He got the same letter."
"And… Victoire? Does he know?"
A long pause.
"I… I don't think so. He's still in the hospital. No one told him."
—
The next morning, the news had spread like wildfire in Daniella's, Andrea's, and Ryder's houses. Their parents, who once criticized their love for music, were now bursting with pride.
"My daughter, a star!" Andrea's mother beamed.
"Washington, can you believe it?" Daniella's father exclaimed. "I always believed in you!"
She raised an eyebrow.
"No, Dad. You hated when I sang."
He shrugged.
"What matters is now. Success is here."
At Ryder's home, the scene was similar. His parents, suddenly supportive, surrounded him with praise.
"You're going to be a big deal, son. We always knew it!" his father said, as if the past few weeks had never happened.
Ryder stayed quiet. He thought of Victoire. He wanted to visit him at the hospital and tell him everything. But between meetings, packing, and pressure from his parents, he never got the chance.
—
Two days later, early in the morning, three black cars pulled up in front of their houses. Men in suits stepped out, composed and professional.
"Daniella? Andrea? Ryder?" one of them asked. "We're here to take you to Washington. Are your bags ready?"
With nervous hearts, the three friends got into separate cars. None of them spoke. They exchanged quiet, worried glances.
Through the window, Ryder whispered, "We should've told him…"
—
Meanwhile, in a white hospital room, Victoire lay silently in a coma. His breathing was soft, his face peaceful. His heart seemed to wait. Maybe somewhere, he could feel that the world around him was changing.
A nurse entered, checked his vitals, and spoke to him gently.
"Your friends must be busy now, sweetheart. Don't worry, they'll come back."
But they wouldn't. Not yet.
—
Days passed. Daniella, Andrea, and Ryder had settled into life in Washington. Their days were filled with voice lessons, choreography, interviews, and rehearsals. Their dream was taking shape. But something was missing.
One night, while they sat together in their shared apartment, Andrea stood up suddenly.
"I can't pretend anymore," she said.
Daniella looked at her.
"You're thinking about him?"
"Yes. Victoire should be here with us. He wrote that song. He put his heart into it. And we left him behind…"
Ryder lowered his head.
"I feel so guilty. I promised to help him. And I left him alone."
A heavy silence filled the room.
"We'll do something for him," Daniella said firmly. "Someday. I promise."
—
In his dreams, Victoire wandered. He saw his friends, heard their voices, their laughter. He saw them singing. He also heard a deep silence. A kind of call.
And deep in that silence, a single tear rolled down his cheek.