Round three was not supposed to feel like a concert. That was what they told them. The official note said Internal showcase. Invite only audience. Industry eyes only. Focus is on performance quality, not crowd reaction. Micro stage. Clean sound. Minimal distraction. Keep it controlled

They lied

When she walked into the holding area that night and heard the roar from the main room, she knew. This was not small. This was not private. This was not just judges and producers. This was already public. Somebody had opened the doors

She peeked past the curtain and felt her chest tighten. There had to be maybe two hundred people in that space. Maybe more. Not arena size. Not tour bus big. But real. Bodies shoulder to shoulder. Lights on faces. People holding phones. Phones already up and ready, red dots on like little eyes. A low restless buzz ran through the room like static. She felt it in her skin. The kind of energy where a crowd hasn’t heard a note yet and is already hungry

Her stomach flipped and stayed flipped

She pulled back from the curtain and leaned against the wall. Her throat felt dry. Her hands shook. Her breath was too fast

Eli was standing six feet away, going over cables. He looked up when he saw her face. You good

No she whispered. I thought this was just for industry people

He lifted one eyebrow. Industry people love bringing friends. Friends love filming. Filming loves the internet. The internet loves you. Welcome to the part where nothing is private anymore

Her heartbeat kicked even harder. I am not ready for two hundred people

He tilted his head. You are not singing for two hundred people.

She frowned. What then

He pointed at her chest. You are singing for one person. The one who needs it. Pick who that is. Sing to them. Ignore the rest.

Her jaw worked. That sounds fake

It is not fake he said. It is survival. If you try to carry every phone in that room you will drown. Carry one heart. They will all hear it anyway

She swallowed. Closed her eyes. Forced her breath to slow. She pictured her mom in the kitchen. Sunlight on a cheap counter. Her mom clapping off-beat and smiling like she was looking at a miracle and not just her kid with a hairbrush mic. Okay she whispered. I can carry one

Good Eli said. Jaw loose. Shoulders down. Do not let fear turn into stiffness. Stiff sings sharp. Loose sings true. You sing true or I am walking out of this building and changing my name and moving to Oregon

That made her laugh out loud. Oregon

Oregon he said flat. Trees. Rain. Silence. Do not make me go to Oregon, Hart

Okay she said. I will do my best for your future in Los Angeles

He gave her a short nod. That’s all I am asking

The lineup moved fast. Contestants were being brought out one at a time, announced by first name only to build curiosity. Some got claps. Some did not. Some got polite noise. Some got loud surprise. She could tell which ones had already built a following online. They got screams. She heard one girl hit a perfect high run and the room lit up with that sound a crowd makes when they all feel the same hit at the same time. It rattled the floor under her shoes

Her heart raced harder. She pressed one fist lightly against her ribs to try to steady herself. It was not helping

Then she heard it. Her name. Next up. Lila

Her throat closed and opened again so fast she almost coughed. Her palms went cold. Her vision narrowed. For one second she almost said No. For one second her feet did not move. For one second the old part of her, the trained silent part, said You do not belong here. You are just an accident. Sit down and do not embarrass anyone

And then the new part of her said out loud inside her own head Shut up and walk

So she walked

The light hit her first. Hot. Almost blinding. Then the sound of the room hit her second. It was not applause yet. It was that build. That sound of people deciding what she meant to them before she even opened her mouth. She stepped onto the taped mark at center stage. Mic in her hand. In-ears already set. Heart pounding