LOVE IN THE MOONLIGHT

Famous and scared

The first time I realized that our lives had changed forever was on a Monday morning when I walked into my 8 AM lecture and half the class turned to look at me, not because I was late or because I had something on my face, but because Rayyan's song `2 AM` had been out for 72 hours and it was already at 500k streams on Spotify and the music video had my hoodie in it and everyone knew that the girl in the lyrics was me, Aira, the scholarship student who always sat in the back row and never talked to anyone.

I wanted to disappear.

I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole.

But instead I sat down, pulled my hair over my face, and pretended to take notes while my phone buzzed non-stop in my bag with messages from numbers I didn't recognize and people I hadn't talked to since high school saying `OMG IS THAT YOU??` and `RAYAN WROTE A SONG ABOUT YOU??`.

Nadia slid into the seat next to me and whispered, "So. Famous now, huh?"

"Shut up," I whispered back, but I was smiling even though I was terrified, because this was exactly what I was afraid of, being seen, being known, being the center of attention when all I wanted was to be invisible and get my degree and go home.

After class, things got worse.

People were stopping me in the hallway. "Are you the girl from the song?" "Can I get a picture?" "What's Rayyan like?"

And I didn't know how to answer any of them because I didn't know how to explain that the guy who wrote that song was the same guy who gave me his hoodie on a cold night and who called me every night during tour and who was now probably dealing with his own version of this chaos.

Speaking of Rayyan, I hadn't seen him since Saturday night on the rooftop when he told me he loved me, because the label had pulled him into meetings and interviews and photo shoots, and all I got were texts at 3 AM that said `I'm sorry. It's crazy here. Can I see you tonight?`

I said yes, of course I said yes, because I missed him and because I was scared and because I didn't know how to do this without him.

We met on the rooftop at 2 AM like we always did, but this time it didn't feel like our secret place anymore, this time it felt like maybe someone could be watching, like maybe someone had followed him here, and the magic was gone and replaced with anxiety.

"You okay?" he asked the moment he saw me, and he looked tired, really tired, with dark circles under his eyes and his hair messy like he hadn't slept.

"I don't know," I admitted, sitting down next to him. "People keep staring at me. My professor asked me after class if I was 'distracting the talent'. Like I'm the problem."

Rayyan cursed under his breath and pulled me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me. "I'm so sorry. I didn't think about this. I didn't think about what it would do to you."

"It's not your fault," I said quickly. "The song is beautiful. I love it. I just... I don't know how to be this person."

"What person?" he asked, kissing my temple.

"The girl in the song," I said. "The one everyone thinks they know. I'm not her. I'm just... me. Stressed about exams and broke and scared all the time."

He was quiet for a long time, and then he said, "Then be you. Only you. I didn't fall in love with the girl in the song. I fell in love with you. The one who brings bad coffee to the rooftop and overthinks everything and cries at sad movies."

That made me laugh and cry at the same time, and I buried my face in his chest. "What if I mess this up? What if I say the wrong thing in an interview or post the wrong thing online and ruin everything for you?"

"Then we mess up together," he said firmly. "And we fix it together. Official, remember?"

The next few days were a whirlwind. The label wanted me to come to an interview with Rayyan, "the girl behind the song," and I said no at first because I was terrified, but Rayyan sat with me for an hour and explained that I didn't have to say anything I didn't want to say, and that he would be there the whole time.

So I went.

The interview was in a small studio with bright lights and a host who asked questions like "How did you feel when you first heard the song?" and "What's it like dating a rising star?" and I answered honestly, stumbling over my words and laughing nervously, and Rayyan held my hand under the table the entire time.

When it aired, the comments were mostly nice. `She's so real` `I love how awkward they are` `Protect them at all costs`.

But there were bad ones too. `Gold digger` `She's using him` `She's not pretty enough for him`.

I tried not to read them. I really tried.

One night, about two weeks after the song came out, I broke down.

We were in his apartment, which was small and messy and full of guitars, and I was scrolling through t****k and saw a video of girls talking about how they "deserved Rayyan more than me" and I just started crying.

Rayyan found me like that, curled up on his couch with my phone on the floor.

"Hey," he said softly, sitting next to me. "What's wrong?"

"I hate this," I sobbed. "I hate that everyone knows my business. I hate that people are mean. I hate that I can't just be with you without it being a thing."

He didn't say anything. He just pulled me into his arms and let me cry until I couldn't cry anymore.

When I finally calmed down, he said, "Do you want me to stop? The music. The interviews. All of it?"

I looked up at him, shocked. "No. That's your dream. You worked so hard for this."

"You're my dream too," he said simply. "And if this is hurting you, then it's not worth it."

"Don't," I said, shaking my head. "Don't give up your dream for me. Just... help me through it?"

He nodded and wiped my tears with his thumb. "Always. We set boundaries, okay? No more reading comments. No more interviews without me. And we still have the rooftop. No cameras there. Just us."

"Just us," I repeated.

Things got better after that, slowly. We learned how to navigate it. I deactivated my social media. Rayyan started shutting his phone off after 10 PM. And every night at 2 AM, we went to the rooftop, and it was ours again.

But the biggest test came a month later, when the label announced that Rayyan was going on a small promotional tour for 3 weeks, and this time I wasn't scared of him leaving, I was scared of being left behind in the spotlight alone.

The night before he left, we were on the rooftop and I was quiet.

"You worried?" he asked.

"Terrified," I admitted. "What if I say something stupid while you're gone? What if people turn on me?"

"Then I'll come home," he said without hesitation. "And we'll deal with it. But you won't say anything stupid. Because you're smart and you're strong and you're mine."

"Mine too," I said, leaning into him.

He kissed me then, deep and slow, like he was trying to memorize me. "Three weeks," he whispered. "And then I'm all yours. No tours. No interviews. Just us."

"I'll hold you to that," I said.

As the van pulled away the next morning, I didn't cry this time. I waved. Because I knew he was coming back. Because I knew we could do this.

Fame was scary. But love was scarier.

And I was choosing both.

[TO BE CONTINUED...]