Saturday felt like standing on the edge of a rooftop with wind in her face. Not falling. Not safe either. Just alive in a new way.

The stage for round two was not a real stage. It was a fake TV stage dressed to look real. A dark floor. A circle of cheap smoke. Warm back lights to make skin glow. Cold front lights to catch any flaw. Four cameras. Three judges at a table and one empty chair with a jacket thrown over it like someone powerful was late on purpose. A mic on a stand in the middle like a checkpoint.

Contestants waited in a narrow hallway with a taped line on the ground that said Ready Mark. Lila stood behind that line and looked at her hands. They were shaking. She told them to stop. They did not stop.

Eli stood near the soundboard, headphones around his neck, hat low over his eyes. When he noticed her nerves he walked over and leaned against the wall like this was no big deal. You ate breakfast right

She shook her head. Could not swallow

He sighed. Okay. So you are running on fear and willpower. Fine. Just do not lock your jaw. You lock your jaw and your high notes die

That made her smile a little I did not know jaw mattered

Jaw is everything he said Then he tilted his head at her You ready

No she said

Good he said If you said yes I would not believe you

She snorted out a laugh and some of the shaking in her hands softened

A production assistant with a headset and clipboard moved down the hallway calling names. Contestants stepped out one at a time and vanished through the black curtain. Some came back trying not to cry. Some came back with a quiet dazed smile. One guy did not come back at all. The assistant just crossed out his number and wrote Cut on the sheet.

When they called Hart Lila felt her stomach drop like a fast elevator. Sophie was not allowed past the lobby this time. She was alone. Eli gave her one short nod. Stay you he said low You hear me Stay you

She nodded

The curtain opened and she stepped into hard white light

The cameras hummed. The room smelled faintly like metal and stage dust. The judges watched her in three very different ways. The woman on the right looked at her like she was trying to solve her. The man in the middle looked bored, like he had seen a thousand people and expected nothing new. The judge on the left leaned back in his chair with a slow smile like he already had a headline in mind.

Before she could speak, the man in the middle asked So you are the model

Lila set her shoulders. I am a singer

He raised one eyebrow Oh are you

The judge on the left laughed under his breath. He had the kind of laugh that said I am here to make clips go viral. He tapped a pen against the table. We watched your first round. You cried in your tone. America loves that. Question though. Is that real or are you running a brand play

Lila blinked A brand play

You know he said The sad model who can sing with a smoky tone That is a good angle Producers like angles Angles sell stories

Her throat tightened. She felt the poke. This was what Eli warned her about. They were not just asking if she could sing. They were asking if she deserved to be here.

She breathed in slow and steady through her nose. My story is not my angle she said My story is my life

The room went still for a half second. The woman judge made the smallest smile. The man in the middle leaned back. Okay he said Let us hear it then You have ninety seconds

Her pulse thundered in her neck. Her jaw wanted to lock. She would not let it.

She wrapped her hand around the mic. The stand felt colder than she expected. She let her fingers settle there and closed her eyes.

She did not sing Glass Skin first. She saved it. She opened with the cover. Slower than the original. Softer. Her voice sat low and warm at the start and then lifted in a climb that was not perfect but true. Every word felt like a confession. Every word felt like she was talking to someone who used to know her and did not anymore.

Halfway through, something in the room changed. She felt it before she saw it. The judge in the middle stopped clicking his pen. The man on the left stopped smirking. The woman leaned in with her chin on her hand and watched like this mattered now.

That is when Lila understood something important. They were not untouchable. They were not gods. They were people. And people listened when you told the truth without apology.

Her last note shook and cracked at the edges. She let it crack. The silence afterward felt thick.

She opened her eyes.

No one spoke for a long moment. Then the woman judge said quietly Okay That is a real voice

The man in the middle nodded once. Do you write

Yes

He gestured. Original. Now.

Her chest tightened. Here it was. Ninety seconds of the part of her that was not trained by anyone. No agency. No choreographer. No script. Only what she could pull out of herself in front of bright lights and strangers who could end her day with one word.

She began Glass Skin.

Her throat felt dry at first but she leaned into it. She let the dryness stay because it matched the song. She told them about standing in front of mirrors and not knowing who she was. She told them about being told to shut up and smile. She told them about people saying You are not the point. You are the frame. She told them how it felt the first time a room clapped for her not because she looked perfect but because she sounded human.

Something happened inside her during that second verse. It was not big. It was not dramatic. It was quiet and final.

She stopped trying to prove she belonged here.
She just took the space like it was hers.

Her voice opened.

Not loud. Clear. Strong in the center. Strong in the part that said I am not small I am not yours I am not your product I am mine

When she reached the last line her chest hurt in a good way. Her eyes burned. She held the note a beat longer than she planned. Then let it fall.

Silence again.

The judge on the left spoke first. His voice had lost that lazy edge. Okay. So you are not a stunt.

The man in the middle nodded. You are not polished. You slide off pitch in two places. You grip tension in your shoulders in the climb. But that does not matter yet. Because people will listen to you. People will remember you. And remembering is more important than perfect.

The woman said one more thing. You do not sing like a model. You sing like someone who is done apologizing. That translates.

Lila swallowed. Her knees felt weak. Thank you she said soft.

The man in the middle held up his hand. Do not thank us. You keep doing that and they are going to come for you.

Her stomach twisted Who is they

Labels. Management. Brands. Your modeling agency. Everyone who wants a piece. You are about to be interesting. Interesting gets hunted.

Lila felt that. Not as a warning. As proof.

The judge on the left leaned in. Here is how this works. We vote Yes or No. Three Yes means you move. Two Yes and one No also moves you. One Yes does not. You get it

Lila nodded. Her pulse was so loud she could barely hear the room.

The man in the middle looked at her. Yes.

The woman looked at her. Yes.

The left judge spun his pen between his fingers like he enjoyed control. He smiled slow. You are going to be a nightmare for some people he said. Then he pointed at her like he was naming her on record. Yes.

Her breath left her body in one rush. She almost laughed. She almost cried. She did neither. She just stood there shaking with her mouth open and her brain repeating the same line over and over I am in I am in I am in

The man in the middle lifted a paper from the table and slid it toward production. Put her in feature rotation he said.

The woman raised a brow Feature this early

The man shrugged A face like that and a voice like that If we do not use her someone else will

Feature Her mind wrapped around the word. She did not know the details but she knew enough. Feature meant screen time. It meant people would see her before they knew her. It meant story.

The left judge smirked again but softer this time. Welcome to round three runway girl

Her throat tightened. My name is Lila she said.

He laughed. Good. Keep saying that.

They waved her off. She turned and walked out of the light on unsteady legs. The curtain fell behind her and the hallway sound came back all at once. Voices. Footsteps. A girl crying into her hands. Someone pacing and swearing under their breath.

Eli was waiting. He did not ask. He could already read it on her face. You are through he said.

She nodded. Her eyes were wet. They said feature. Whatever that means.

He let out a low whistle Feature huh Okay. So this is going to move fast.

Move fast. The words made something in her chest lift and tighten at the same time.

Am I ready for fast she asked.

No he said. But you were not ready for any of this and you did it anyway so who cares

That made her laugh and choke all at once. She covered her face with both hands. Her shoulders shook. She was not sobbing. She was not breaking. It was something else. Relief mixed with terror mixed with joy.

Eli waited. He did not touch her. He just stayed there like a wall next to her, steady and quiet. When she finally dropped her hands, he nodded toward the exit. Come on. You need air.

Outside, the sun was bright and flat over Hollywood Boulevard. The world did not pause. Cars still crawled through traffic. Tourists still took pictures of sidewalk stars. Street performers still blasted music from small speakers and moved like they were made of rubber and pride. The smell of fried food drifted from a cart. Life kept moving like nothing special had happened.

But for her, everything had changed.

She felt it in her bones.

She was moving forward. On record. On camera. On purpose.

They could not call her a hobby anymore. They could not say Cute voice but stay in your lane. They could not say Be quiet and let the brand talk.

She had a lane now. It had her name on it.

Her phone buzzed. Ten messages from Sophie. Two from Miles. One from an unknown number that made her pause.

The unknown number said Lila this is Carina I work with an independent label in Nashville I just watched your round two pull Do you have management yet

Her heart slammed so hard it felt like impact.

She looked up at the bright sky. She let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh.

The girl they once called trainable was now getting label messages sent to her phone.

She whispered to herself in the middle of the sidewalk with cars honking and strangers walking past like her life was not breaking open in real time

I am not the frame anymore

Then she said it again slower tasting every word I am the picture now