Kira stood in front of the mirror backstage, staring at her reflection as her stylist adjusted the hem of her glittering gown. The lights from the stage beyond hummed like a distant heartbeat, calling her to step into them, to perform, to be everything the world expected her to be.

But in this quiet moment, she wasn’t sure who she was anymore.

A few months ago, she had been just another name in a crowded music scene, hoping for a break. Now? Her face was everywhere. Her songs on every playlist. Fans knew her like they knew the air they breathed, but did they know her?

She swallowed, touching her cheek. Not the perfect contour. Not the filtered skin. Just me.

Her manager knocked softly, entering the room with his usual smile, but even that felt like a mask. “Ready?”

Kira barely nodded. “I don’t know who they expect me to be anymore. The 'Kira' they see on stage? Or the one in interviews? The one that still gets scared to go grocery shopping without sunglasses?”

He smiled, but it was a little too rehearsed. “You’ve evolved, Kira. The public’s never going to keep up with your growth. That’s the price of fame.”

Kira stared at him, then back at her reflection. Do I want them to keep up?

Her phone buzzed with a new notification—a message from her mom: "You’ve got this, sweetheart. Just be you."

The words landed like a gentle breeze, a reminder of the girl who used to sing into hairbrushes in her bedroom, before anyone cared about the curls, the style, or the filters.

She smiled, the first real smile in days. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

But as she stepped onto the stage, Kira promised herself one thing: Tonight, she wouldn’t just sing for the crowd. She’d sing for the girl in the mirror, the one who still wasn’t sure where fame ended and she began.