Chapter 3: Under the Spotlight

A tall, slender man strode over, stopping in front of me.

He glanced at Derek, then gave me a warm smile: "I believe you wrote it."

Derek's jaw dropped: "Senior Caleb—"

"I know sign language. I'll translate for you." As he spoke, he gently took my hand and led me toward the stage.

Derek suddenly blocked our way: "Senior, you're mistaken. That's Natalie's song, not hers."

"Her major is music therapy. She doesn't even know how to write songs."

"Lillian, stop making a scene. I shouldn't have snapped at you earlier. Be good, come back with me."

"Didn't you always want to go to that cat café out by the lake? I'll take you. Let's go now."

I patted Caleb's hand, signaling him to let go.

He tilted his head, frowning at me, as if to ask if I really wanted to go with him.

I didn't answer, but signed firmly to Derek: "I'm not making a scene. If it's my song, then it's mine. If she wants to win, she should compete with her own song."

After that, I turned and pulled Caleb onto the stage.

Derek called after me several times, finally shouting in frustration: "Lillian, if you go up there today, I'll never talk to you again!"

Caleb's grip on my hand was even tighter than before, as if afraid I'd run away.

But I wouldn't. My steps grew more resolute as I walked onto the stage.

Only then did I realize everyone in the auditorium was watching us.

Someone handed Caleb a microphone.

"There was a small incident just now. I think we need to pause the award ceremony."

"This student just said that the first prize-winning song, Natalie Parker's 'Heartlight,' was stolen from her."

The audience erupted.

"No way, Natalie wouldn’t steal. She’s like, the golden girl here."

"Yeah, I saw Natalie editing the sheet music just the other day. It was this song."

"And just now, Natalie said she wrote this song for someone she likes."

"How could it be stolen? Unless the person she likes was stolen too?"

Natalie suddenly patted the microphone and started crying to Caleb: "Senior Caleb, I know you're famous, but you can't accuse me just because you think my song is better than yours."

Caleb seemed to smirk, his deep, smooth voice echoing in my ears for a long time.

Strangely, I found him kind of cool.

From the edge of the stage, the harsh fluorescent lights made the audience blur into a sea of faces. I could feel the tension thick in the air, like the minutes before a storm. It was the first time I ever felt seen, really seen, not just for my silence, but for my music. Even as the crowd buzzed with confusion and doubt, I stood taller. My palms were sweaty, but I didn't let go of Caleb's steadying hand.