CHAPTER 8: (City of Noise, Heart of Truth)
Suci's POV
New York wasn't just another city.
It was a beast—loud, alive, unapologetic.
From the moment we landed, everything moved in fast motion.
Flashing billboards. Street performers. Sirens. Studio calls. Camera clicks.
This wasn't Vienna.
This was the big leagues.
And we were rookies, barely holding onto each other in a sea of faces.
---
Artum's POV
I tried to pretend I was fine.
But truth be told?
I felt like an imposter.
Backstage at a late-night show taping, they mic'd us up, powdered our faces, and tossed words like "branding," "aesthetic," and "marketable sound."
I missed the quiet of Suci's garage. The simplicity of brush strokes and raw strings.
This... this felt like being seen but not known.
---
Suci's POV
We were scheduled to perform at an arts gala in Manhattan—a star-studded night full of sponsors and scouts.
But two days before the event, something changed.
Someone changed it.
Her name was Rielle.
An NYU music student.
Sharp. Gorgeous. Intimidating.
And apparently, Artum's ex-collaborator.
---
The First Meeting
She walked into our rehearsal, all confident smiles and high-heeled boots.
> "Art," she purred. "I heard you were in town. Thought I'd stop by."
I stood frozen.
He froze too.
> "Rielle?" he blinked.
> "Missed me?" she laughed. "You always said New York would eat you alive. Guess you finally proved us both wrong."
Us?
Excuse me?
---
Later, in the hallway
> "How do you know her?" I asked, trying to sound chill (and failing).
> "We wrote songs together before I met you. A couple of contests. A couple... of kisses."
My stomach twisted.
> "And now?"
> "Now... nothing. I promise. She's just... a ghost."
But ghosts have a way of knocking when you least expect.
---
Rielle Returns
The next day, she showed up again. This time with a proposal.
> "One night only. Me and Art. A duet at the gala."
> "What?" I asked, stunned. "We're already performing."
> "Of course, you are," she said sweetly. "But he's on the committee's radar. You? You're still under review."
I don't know what hurt more—the insult or the fact that Artum hesitated.
---
Artum's POV
I didn't want to say yes.
But part of me wanted to prove something.
To her.
To myself.
To everyone who ever said I wasn't enough.
> "Just one song," I told Suci later. "It doesn't mean anything."
> "But it means something to me," she replied. "You're my partner, not hers."
> "This is New York, Su. It's complicated."
> "No, Art. We're complicated. This? This is a choice."
She walked away that night.
I didn't chase her.
And I hated myself for it.
---
The Gala
I performed with Rielle.
We sounded great.
Perfect, even.
But it felt wrong.
Because as the crowd applauded, the one person I needed in that room... wasn't there.
---
Suci's POV
I skipped the gala.
I walked around Central Park alone in heels, hugging my coat tighter, thinking about everything.
Was I being dramatic?
Maybe.
But sometimes love isn't about how perfect you sound together...
It's about how loyal you are when no one's watching.
---
The Twist
While sitting on a park bench, my phone buzzed.
It was an email. Not from New York.
But from Japan.
Tokyo Youth Arts Conservatory.
They had seen our Vienna performance.
They wanted me to join their cultural exchange for six months.
Fully funded.
Voice training.
Cultural immersion.
Mentorship with Asia's top fusion artists.
And just me.
> "We believe your voice is meant to break barriers."
I stared at it.
A world away.
A new chance.
But would it mean leaving him behind?
---
The Confrontation
I found him the next day at the studio.
> "We need to talk," I said, holding the printed email.
He looked up, eyes already weary.
> "Is it about Rielle? Su, I swear—"
> "No. It's about me."
I handed him the letter.
He read. Eyes wide.
> "Tokyo?"
> "They want me there. Alone."
> "Are you going?"
I paused.
> "I want to."
He looked down.
> "Then go."
> "That's it? Just go?"
> "I won't hold you back, Su. I never want to be what clips your wings."
> "Then fly with me."
> "Not this time," he whispered. "I need to stay. Figure out who I am... without hiding behind 'us'."
> "So... is this goodbye?"
> "No," he said, stepping closer. "This is love choosing growth over comfort."
And we hugged—tightly, tearfully, beautifully.
Not as goodbye.
But as good luck.
---
Final Scene – One Month Later
I stood on a Tokyo stage, performing a song written in Tagalog, Japanese, and English.
The lights were bright.
But my heart felt whole.
Because I knew, somewhere in New York, a boy with a quiet voice and a painter's soul was finding himself too.
And when we meet again?
We won't just be a duo.
We'll be two whole artists—finally ready to become something greater.
Together.
---
To Be Continued...