The hallway smelled like coffee and nerves. Dozens of singers waited with number tags on their shirts, whispering lyrics or stretching their necks in silence. Lila sat between a man with a guitar and a teenage girl humming into her phone. The air buzzed with fear and hope. She pressed her hands together and breathed slow. Sophie sat next to her, scrolling through the competition’s feed, whispering updates like a quiet sports commentator. “Judge three is the mean one. Don’t look at her face too much. Smile at the guy in the middle, he’s nicer.”

Lila laughed softly. It helped. Her throat still felt tight, but at least she was smiling.

When her number was called, she stood and almost dropped her water bottle. Sophie squeezed her wrist once. “You got this. Remember, you belong here.”

Inside the audition room, the lighting was strange, brighter than it needed to be. Three judges sat behind a long table. Cameras rolled quietly from the side. A staff member handed her a microphone and told her where to stand. Lila’s hands were cold. She looked at the small red light on the camera and thought of her mom, of singing barefoot in the backyard, of the night she first stepped into that open mic room. She let those thoughts steady her.

“Name,” the middle judge said.

“Lila Hart.”

“Age?”

“Twenty-one.”

“Song?”

“I’ll start with my cover. Then an original.”

They nodded. The man in the center said, “Whenever you’re ready.”

She closed her eyes, took a breath, and started.

The cover was slow and fragile. Her voice carried a tiny quiver at first, but then she found the heartbeat of it, soft and low. The lyrics spoke of losing something beautiful and learning to breathe again. She let the words move through her instead of trying to control them. By the chorus, her voice had steadied. The last note faded into silence. She heard a small exhale from someone behind the camera.

“Good tone,” one judge said. The woman in the middle nodded slightly. “You feel it, not just sing it. That’s rare.”

Lila swallowed and nodded, whispering, “Thank you.”

“Let’s hear the original,” the main judge said.

Her hands tightened around the mic. She took another breath and began Glass Skin. The room changed. Her voice came stronger this time, like something that had waited too long to be free. She sang about reflection, about being seen but not known, about breaking the image that others built around her. Each line cut cleaner than she expected. She didn’t notice the cameras anymore. She didn’t notice her hands shaking. She only felt the air move as her words filled the space.

When the song ended, the room was quiet. One judge leaned forward. “Where did you learn to sing like that?”

Lila hesitated. “Nowhere. I just… needed to.”

The man smiled a little. “That’s the best place to start.”

The woman looked at her screen, then back at Lila. “We get hundreds of perfect voices. Yours isn’t perfect, but it’s alive. Don’t lose that.”

Those words hit deep. She felt tears pressing behind her eyes but held them in. “Thank you,” she whispered again.

“Wait outside,” the assistant said. “Results in fifteen minutes.”

She stepped into the hallway on shaking legs. Sophie jumped up. “Well?”

“I don’t know,” Lila said, laughing a little. “They didn’t throw things, so that’s good.”

Fifteen minutes turned into twenty. More singers came out—some crying, some quiet. The assistant finally called her name. “Lila Hart.” She stood so fast she nearly tripped. Inside, the judges looked calmer, their screens closed.

The main judge spoke first. “We’re moving you to the next round.”

The words didn’t land right away. They floated for a moment before meaning hit. Lila covered her mouth. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yes. You have something we can’t teach. Keep that edge, but work on control. And pick better shoes. Those heels are loud.”

Lila laughed through a small tear. “Okay. I will.”

Sophie let out a scream when she came out again. “You did it! I knew it!” She hugged her so tight the papers in Lila’s hand crumpled. Other contestants looked over, smiling politely.

They stepped out into the street, sunlight hot on the sidewalk. The city noise felt softer somehow. Lila tilted her head back, eyes half-closed, the sound of traffic mixing with her heartbeat.

She had done it.

For the first time since she started modeling, her success didn’t come from being what someone else wanted. It came from being who she was. The thought filled her chest like light. She didn’t know how far she would go, but she finally had proof that she could.

Sophie raised her phone. “Smile, superstar.”

Lila rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. The photo caught her mid-laugh, sunlight in her hair, blue audition sticker still on her jacket. She didn’t know it yet, but that picture would become the first real image people recognized—not the model, not the brand face, but Lila Hart, singer.

She slipped her phone back into her pocket and whispered, “Round one down.”

Sophie grinned. “Then we start again.”

Lila nodded. “Yeah. Again, and again, until it’s not luck anymore.”

They walked down the boulevard together, wind carrying the faint echo of her song behind them, still alive, still hers.