STOLEN GLANCES

EPISODE SEVENTEEN

THE SECRET ATTENTIONS OF ETHAN

What Noah didn’t know—what he had never realized—was that Ethan had never stopped caring. Every performance Noah gave, every concert, every fan meeting… Ethan had been there.

It wasn’t obvious, and it was never in the spotlight. Ethan had disguised himself, blending into the crowd, watching from the shadows. He had invested in Noah's company, his involvement hidden from the public eye. He was watching Noah rise, seeing his every victory, but he had kept his distance—afraid that coming forward would only push Noah further away. Ethan had no idea how much Noah had changed, and Noah still had no idea that Ethan had been supporting him all along.

Every time Noah stepped onto a stage, his heart beating in sync with the crowd’s cheers, Ethan was watching, silently holding his breath as Noah gave his all.

Noah’s concerts were packed, his fanbase more loyal than ever. Ethan attended without revealing his identity, staying at the back, in the shadows, allowing himself the briefest moments of joy when he saw Noah smile. Ethan wanted to reach out, but he held back. He had been the one to walk away before, and he feared it was already too late.

-----

THE TRUTH HE LONGED TO HEAR

Ethan sat in his office, a cup of black coffee resting on his desk, untouched. The large floor-to-ceiling windows behind him offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline, but his eyes weren’t on the scenery. Instead, they were glued to the large TV screen in front of him, where Noah’s live interview was playing.

The moment the interviewer had asked about his relationship status, Ethan had expected the usual scripted response—something vague, something that kept the mystery alive for the public. But what he heard instead made his breath catch in his throat.

"I’m not into men," Noah had said, his voice steady yet filled with emotion. "But there is one man, and it has always been him. He’s the one I love."

Ethan felt a strange tightness in his chest. He stared at the screen, watching as Noah’s usually confident expression softened, vulnerability seeping into his eyes. And then—he saw it. A single tear slipped down Noah’s cheek, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

"I made a mistake. I’m sorry for not being brave enough to admit it before. But I’m ready now. I’m ready to fix it."

Ethan's grip on his pen tightened. His heart pounded in his chest.

Noah had said it. He had publicly declared his love—not for just anyone, but for him.

This was the Noah he had fallen in love with.

This was the Noah who used to be so afraid of losing everything, of risking his career, but now—now he was standing before the world, unafraid.

For months, Ethan had tried to convince himself that he had moved on, that the past was the past, and that Noah's absence no longer affected him. But the truth was, it had always affected him. It had never stopped.

That night at the bar, when he saw Noah drinking himself into oblivion, he couldn't just leave him there. No matter how much time had passed, no matter how much he told himself it was over—he still cared.

That night, as he carried Noah to his hotel suite, he had watched over him. He had made sure he was comfortable, placing a glass of water by his bedside. He had even covered him with a blanket, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

And when Noah, still half-conscious, had whispered his name in the darkness, apologizing over and over, Ethan had felt something break inside him.

Noah had held onto him that night, pressing his face against his chest, mumbling, "I love you, Ethan."

Ethan hadn’t responded. He couldn’t. His walls were too high, his emotions too tangled. But that night, he had let himself hold Noah, just for a moment. Just to feel that warmth again.

And now, as he watched Noah’s interview, as he listened to his voice tremble with sincerity, Ethan felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Hope.

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.

"Come in," he said, his voice composed but slightly strained.

His vice president stepped inside, carrying a folder, but hesitated when he saw the television screen. He glanced at Ethan, then back at the screen where Noah’s face was frozen in a close-up shot.

"Sir," his VP said cautiously, "isn't that—?"

"Yes." Ethan’s tone left no room for further questioning.

The man nodded and placed the folder on Ethan’s desk. "The board meeting is in twenty minutes."

Ethan barely acknowledged him, still staring at the screen.

As the door closed behind his VP, he exhaled deeply. His fingers tapped against the desk, his mind racing.

Noah had made his move.

Now, it was Ethan’s turn to decide.

Would he take the risk? Would he let himself believe in love again?

Or would he let Noah go—again?

Ethan's jaw tightened.

No. Not this time.

He had waited long enough.

----

A LOVE THAT WON’T BACK DOWN

The stadium was packed. Thousands of fans screamed Noah’s name, waving banners, glow sticks, and signs that declared their love for him. The energy in the air was electric, the anticipation thick. The moment the lights dimmed, the screams grew even louder.

Noah stood backstage, his heart pounding—not out of nerves for the performance, but for what he was about to do. He had made up his mind. From now on, he would no longer hide.

He had spent months working hard, becoming a billionaire, climbing to the very top of the industry. But what was the point of all this if the man he loved wasn’t by his side?

The show began. Noah stepped onto the stage, the music booming through the stadium, and the moment he grabbed the mic, the entire venue erupted. He sang his heart out, every lyric holding a deeper meaning, every melody carrying the weight of his emotions.

But then, as the final song played, Noah did something unexpected. The music slowed, the band fading into a soft instrumental. He took a deep breath and looked out into the crowd.

“This next song…” His voice was steady, but the emotion in it was unmistakable. “It’s for someone special.”

The fans cheered, but he wasn’t done.

“I know I’ve said this before, but I need to say it again.” His grip on the mic tightened. “I love you. I always have, and I always will. I’m sorry for the mistakes I made, for the times I let fear control me. But I’m not afraid anymore.”

A hushed silence fell over the stadium, the weight of his words settling in.

“I don’t care about the consequences. Even if this industry turns its back on me, even if I lose everything—I won’t lose you again. I’d rather not be an idol than live a life without you.”

Some fans screamed in support, while others whispered among themselves. The media was undoubtedly eating this up.

The performance ended with a standing ovation. But for Noah, the only thing that mattered was whether Ethan had heard him.

—

ETHAN WATCHED. AGAIN.

Sitting in his penthouse, Ethan leaned back in his chair, watching the live broadcast of Noah’s concert on the massive screen before him.

He had told himself he wouldn’t watch. That he would ignore it. But the moment Noah took the mic, he couldn’t look away.

Hearing those words, seeing Noah standing there, pouring his heart out for the world to hear—for him—Ethan’s chest tightened.

This wasn’t just a one-time confession.

Noah had been saying it in every concert, every show, every fan meeting. He was relentless.

"I love you."

"I’m sorry."

"I’m not letting you go."

The industry was divided. Some fans supported him, others were against it. His company was worried, trying to control the damage, but Noah didn’t care. He refused to back down.

And now, he was even willing to give it all up.

Ethan ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. He never wanted Noah to throw away everything he worked so hard for. But at the same time, he couldn't ignore the warmth spreading through his chest.

This was the Noah he fell in love with. The one who fought for what he wanted. Ethan clenched his fists, his emotions a storm inside him.

"Damn you, Noah." He whispered to himself.

Noah wasn’t going to stop. He wasn’t going to let go.

And for the first time in a long time, Ethan felt something dangerous—hope.

Hope that maybe, just maybe, they weren’t over.