When Zara stepped off the stage, her legs trembled so badly she nearly collapsed.

The microphone was no longer in her hand, yet her palms were still damp with sweat. Her heart pounded wildly against her chest, and she leaned against the hallway wall, drawing in deep breaths. Did I... really just sing?

The intense stage lights still flickered in her vision like afterimages, and applause and cheers echoed in her ears. It wasn't just noise. It felt like the world answering back—We heard your voice.

"Zara!" A bright voice rang out as kids rushed toward her, surrounding her in an instant. Someone clapped their hands together for a high five, another shouted, "You sing so well!"

Each time palms met, warmth spread, and a smile slowly bloomed across Zara's face. Among them, the first to step forward was the boy who had lent her the earphones.

Still smiling, he gave her shoulder a light pat. "See? I told you. Music."

The kids formed a loose circle around her, laughing and talking all at once. Standing there, in the middle of this unfamiliar city, Zara felt a quiet sense of relief—as if she had finally found a place where she belonged.

Her heart still raced unevenly, but the feeling had changed. It was no longer fear. Where anxiety had once lingered, a warm light began to seep in. At that moment, a small spark flickered in her chest.

It wasn't fear—but hope, as if she had been allowed to believe for the very first time.