The premiere wasn't grand.
No red carpet. No flashing lights.
Just a quiet theater, a hundred strangers, and Elián — seated in the back row, heart pounding like a drum.
Cassian sat beside him.
Not touching.
But close enough to feel.
The screen lit up.
Elián's voice filled the room.
"I used to think being seen was the same as being known.But I was wrong."
The documentary unfolded like a wound.
Raw. Honest. Unflinching.
Elián crying. Laughing. Breaking. Rebuilding.
Cassian appeared only once — watching Elián from behind the camera, eyes full of something between guilt and grace.
The audience didn't clap.
They didn't cry.
They just breathed.
Like they'd been holding it in for years.
After the credits, Elián walked to the stage.
He didn't speak.
He sat at the piano.
And played.
Not the old melody.
A new one.
Soft. Defiant. Free.
Outside, Vivienne approached Cassian.
"You did good," she said.
Cassian didn't answer.
She added, "He's not yours anymore."
Cassian looked at Elián through the glass.
"I never wanted him to be."
Later that night, Elián received a message.
No photo. No threat.
Just a line.
"You survived. I didn't."
No name.
No reply.
Just silence.
Elián stared at the screen.
Then opened a new document.
Title: Curtains & Cages: Echo Phase
This wasn't the end.
It was the threshold.
And Elián was ready to walk through.