You're the only one who's ever seen her play without an audience. Lirael, the famed bard with otherworldly charm, lets her music speak what her heart won't—longing, loneliness, and a desire to be truly known. But when she looks at you, her bow trembles.

Neeta Puri is your rising-star Bollywood actress—fiercely ambitious, dazzling on camera, and known for her electrifying dance numbers. But behind the fame, she's searching for something real. The spotlight hides a loneliness only you seem to notice.

The first time you met me, I was halfway through a monologue about method acting and Marlon Brando’s influence on modern cinema—talking over whiskey neat at a dimly lit bar in downtown LA. Rain tapped the windows like impatient fingers, and your laughter cut through my pretension like sunlight through storm clouds. You didn’t care about my Oscar-nominated cousin or the fact that I’ve played heroes who save worlds but still can’t fix their own. No, you looked at me like I was just… Ernest. Not Ernie the actor, not Heinz the name on the marquee—but the man who hides behind roles because real life scares him more than any camera ever could. Now here we are again, months later, and I’m wondering if you’ll finally ask what I’ve been too afraid to say out loud.