Unspoken Melodies

Episode 10: The Pressure of Perception

Arjun stood backstage, the bright lights from the auditorium filtering through the curtains. The deafening cheers of the crowd reached him, yet he felt a hollow ache in his chest. This was supposed to be everything he had dreamed of—a sold-out venue, fans chanting his name, his music resonating with people. But why did it feel like the walls were closing in?

As the announcer called his name, Arjun took a deep breath and plastered a smile on his face. The mask he wore for the world had grown heavier with each passing day.

Across town, Diya scrolled through her phone, her fingers trembling as she read the group chat with her friends.

“Did you see Arjun’s latest interview? He’s everywhere now. Honestly, I don’t see the hype,” one friend wrote.

“Yeah, just another rags-to-riches story. People eat that stuff up,” another chimed in.

Diya’s heart sank. She wanted to defend him, to tell them they didn’t understand how hard he’d worked. But her fear of standing out among her peers kept her silent.

“Diya, you’ve been quiet,” one friend teased. “Don’t tell me you actually like his music.”

Diya forced a laugh. “It’s... okay, I guess.”

Her response felt like a betrayal, but the alternative—admitting her feelings for Arjun—terrified her.

After the performance, Arjun found himself surrounded by a sea of admirers, each eager for a piece of him. They didn’t see the sleepless nights, the tears he shed in solitude, or the sacrifices he’d made. To them, he was a success story, a symbol of hope and inspiration.

Rohan stood nearby, watching Arjun navigate the crowd with a practiced smile. Once the last fan left, Rohan approached him.

“You did great out there,” Rohan said, handing Arjun a bottle of water.

Arjun nodded, his exhaustion evident. “Thanks. It’s just... a lot.”

Rohan frowned. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know. I’m here for you.”

Arjun managed a weak smile. “I know. But some things... I just need to figure out myself.”

The next day, Diya attended a party with her friends, hoping to distract herself from her conflicted emotions. As the night wore on, the conversation inevitably turned to Arjun.

“Did you hear? He’s doing another concert next week,” one friend said, rolling her eyes. “He’s really milking his sob story.”

Diya felt her cheeks flush with anger. “He’s not milking anything,” she said before she could stop herself.

The group turned to her, surprised. “Wow, Diya. Didn’t know you were such a fan,” one friend said sarcastically.

Diya faltered, realizing she’d said too much. “I’m just saying, he’s talented. That’s all.”

Her friends exchanged knowing looks but didn’t press further. Still, Diya couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that followed her for the rest of the night.

Later that week, Diya attended one of Arjun’s smaller performances, careful to stay out of sight. She watched as he poured his heart into every note, his voice filled with a raw vulnerability that made her chest ache.

But as the crowd roared in approval, Diya noticed something else—Arjun’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly, his eyes distant despite the adoration around him.

When the performance ended, she lingered near the exit, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. To her surprise, he appeared moments later, his expression weary.

“Arjun,” she called softly.

He turned, his eyes widening in surprise. “Diya? What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you perform,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Arjun’s lips curved into a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I didn’t think you’d want to be seen here.”

Her heart twisted at his words. “I’m sorry, Arjun. I’ve been... I don’t know what I’ve been doing.”

Arjun sighed, leaning against the wall. “It’s okay. I get it. I’m not exactly someone you’d want to be associated with.”

“That’s not true,” she said quickly. “You’re amazing, Arjun. I just... it’s complicated.”

He gave her a long, searching look before nodding. “Yeah. Complicated seems to be the theme of my life lately.”

As the days passed, Arjun’s internal struggles began to manifest in more visible ways. He started missing calls from producers, his performances became increasingly mechanical, and his friends noticed his growing detachment.

Rohan confronted him one evening, frustrated by his behavior. “Arjun, you’re spiraling. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Arjun rubbed his temples, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m tired, Rohan. Tired of pretending I’m okay, tired of being what everyone wants me to be.”

Rohan placed a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to pretend. You’re allowed to feel overwhelmed. But you have to let people in. Otherwise, it’s going to destroy you.”

Arjun nodded, but his expression remained distant.

Meanwhile, Diya found herself drawn to Arjun more than ever. She couldn’t ignore the pain she saw in his eyes or the way her heart ached for him. One evening, she decided to visit him unannounced.

When he opened the door, he looked surprised but not unhappy to see her. “Diya? What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk,” she said, stepping inside.

They sat in silence for a moment before Diya finally spoke. “Arjun, I see how much you’re struggling, and I hate that I’ve been part of the problem. I care about you, but I’m scared. Scared of what people will think, scared of how complicated this is.”

Arjun met her gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of hope and sadness. “Diya, I don’t need you to fix me. I just need to know you’re there. That I’m not alone in this.”

Her heart broke at his words, and for the first time, she realized that her fear of judgment paled in comparison to the pain of losing him.

“I’m here, Arjun,” she said softly. “I’m here.”

Cliffhanger for the Next Episode:

Just as Diya begins to bridge the gap between them, a scandal emerges, threatening to derail Arjun’s career and their fragile connection.