Page 217 of Collide

“Elena,” he says with a sigh, his voice even and polite, like we’re strangers meeting for coffee. “Happy birthday. And…congratulations on your night.”

I nod, my throat tight. “Thank you.”

Small. Simple.

But maybe—for now—it’s enough.

The rooftop starts to hum with more bodies, more laughter, more clinking glasses. I smile. I laugh. I let their joy wrap around me, warm and distracting.

But underneath it—beneath every cheer, every toast—I’m still scanning the crowd.

Where is he?

Every time the elevator chimes, my heart leaps.

And every time, it crashes.

Not him.

I try to brush it off. To stay grounded in what Idohave—this moment, this celebration, these people who came forme.

But the longer the night stretches, the louder Alex’s absence becomes. Before I can spiral too far, Mark’s voice cuts through the rooftop, sharp and clear, pulling me back.

He stands on the small stage, champagne glass in hand, his signature grin lighting up his face.

“Good evening, everyone! Welcome, welcome!” he calls, beaming. “I want to thank you all for being here tonight to celebrate this spectacular young woman who, in such a small package, is an absolutepowerhouseof talent.”

Laughter and applause ripple through the crowd. My chest swells.

Riley leans in, gives my back a gentle pat. “Soak it in, superstar.”

Mark’s eyes find mine. His smile softens. “Elena,” he says, lifting his glass slightly, “when we saw you compete onStarstrucktwo years ago, weknew.You were someone special. And now, you’ve come such a long way—literally halfway across the world to be here with us tonight. And tonight…” He pauses, glancing around the rooftop. “Tonight, we celebrate yourRise.”

A lump forms in my throat at the way he says it—not just the album, but everything itmeans.

“Happy birthday, Elena, and a toast to you!”

The rooftop erupts in cheers and applause. Glasses lift high, champagne flowing freely in every direction—bubbles catching the twinkling lights, sparkling like tiny stars in crystal flutes.

I force a smile, raising my own glass as faces turn toward me. But I can’t help it, my eyes drift back to the elevator one more time.

Still empty.

“Okay.” Mark grins as the applause fades. “Without further ado, the woman herself, here to give us an acoustic rendition of her brand-new single ‘Sparks.’ Take it away, Elena Montgomery!”

Another wave of applause breaks out, louder this time. All eyes swing to me.

Riley squeezes my hand. “You’ve got this,” she whispers.

I smooth my palms over the shifting silk of my dress—as if I can ground myself in the feel of it—and will my legs to move toward the stage.

Even if Alex isn’t here to see this moment, I’ll still own it. Even if my heart aches.

The city glows behind me as I step onto the small stage.

I breathe in. Turning toward the crowd.

Warm faces. Familiar smiles. People I love. People whoshowed up.