As Kaija offered her final bows to the audience after finishing her performance, a familiar figure caught her eye in the furthest row of seats.
With her near-perfect vision, it wasn't difficult to recognize him.
Juho Isota.
Even at that distance, she could make out the small black camera bag he carried everywhere and the worn black leather jacket he always wore to their weekly photoshoots.
What stood out even more was the fact that everyone else around him was on their feet.
Juho wasn't.
He sat alone among rows of empty red chairs, arms folded across his chest, completely unmoved by the standing ovation shaking the hall. While thousands of people cheered, applauded, and shouted her name, Juho remained seated as though he were watching an entirely different show.
It wasn't that Kaija cared whether he liked her performance or not.
What surprised her was something else entirely.
A memory surfaced unbidden.
