The notification light on Kai’s phone blinked quietly beside his bed.

He hadn’t told his parents yet that he passed the audition  not really. Just that he sang, and that he was okay.

But “okay” was a lie.
He couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he heard the echo of his song, the judges’ voices, the crowd of hopefuls outside the audition room.
And under all of that  a whisper he’d buried long ago.

The one that said: You don’t belong here.

The next morning

The smell of breakfast filled the kitchen toast, eggs, and silence.
Kai walked in cautiously, his voice still sore from the performance.

His mother looked up first, relief flickering in her eyes before it turned to worry.
“You really went,” she said quietly.

Kai nodded, sitting across from her.
His father didn’t look up from the newspaper. “You said you were done with all that.”

“I said I was fine,” Kai answered. “That’s not the same thing.”

The words hung in the air.

His mother sighed. “Kai… we’re not trying to stop you from chasing your dreams. We’re scared. After what happened—”

“I know,” he interrupted. “But I’m not that weak kid anymore.”

His father’s voice was sharp. “You almost lost your voice permanently. You think that makes us overprotective? You were—”

Kai’s hands tightened around his cup. The porcelain trembled slightly.

He took a breath. “Do you even know how it happened?”

They both fell silent.

For a long time, Kai had avoided this part the truth behind the collapse, the surgery, the fear. It was easier to let them believe it was overuse, or stress, or bad luck.

But it wasn’t.

He looked down, voice barely above a whisper.
“It wasn’t from streaming too much. Not really.”

His mother frowned. “Then…?”

Kai’s throat burned just thinking about it. “It was because I kept pushing myself  to be perfect. Every stream, every note… I practiced until my voice broke. Because people said I wasn’t good enough.”

The words spilled out before he could stop them.

“I used to get comments… messages. People mocking how I sounded. Telling me to quit, to stop pretending I could sing.”

His father’s eyes widened slightly, the anger draining into quiet guilt.

Kai continued. “I thought if I just pushed harder, they’d stop. But every time I sang, their voices got louder  until mine just… gave out.”

His mother covered her mouth, eyes glistening.
“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because I didn’t want you to worry. And because I thought maybe they were right.”

The silence that followed was heavier than any argument.

Finally, his father put the paper down. His voice was low, rough.
“I didn’t know, Kai. I should have.”

Kai looked at him  really looked and saw not disappointment, but regret.

His father continued, “I just wanted you to be safe. But maybe keeping you quiet wasn’t safety at all.”

Kai swallowed hard, blinking back the sting in his eyes.

“I’m not doing this to hurt myself again,” he said softly. “I’m doing it to heal. This time, I’ll sing because I want to not because I’m trying to prove something.”

His mother reached out, taking his hand gently.
“Then promise us one thing,” she said. “If it ever starts to hurt again your throat, your heart, any of it you stop and tell us. Don’t fight it alone anymore.”

Kai nodded. “I promise.”

That night, he sat by his window, the city lights flickering like distant stars.
Somewhere out there, his old fans still waited, wondering if Echo would ever return.

He knew he couldn’t hide forever. But maybe, just maybe, he didn’t need to return as Echo.

Maybe the world was ready to meet Kai Mizuno  the boy behind the voice, scars and all.

He touched his throat gently, feeling the faint line of the healed scar beneath his fingers.

The pain wasn’t gone. But it didn’t scare him anymore.

“Not this time,” he whispered. “This time, I’ll sing for me.”

To be continued...