“After this—coffee. Real names.”
September turned. In the harsh backstage light, Demi looked young. Too young for the lines around her mouth. September was twenty-seven. Demi was twenty-four, but she had started at nineteen. That was a different kind of math. -Swallowed- Demi Sutra and September Reign -27....
“Every night,” September admitted.
A pause. Demi sat on the velvet bench, suddenly still. “You ever feel like you’ve already been swallowed?” she asked, voice low. “Like the lights, the ones, the catcalls… it’s all just stomach acid, and you’re already halfway digested?” “After this—coffee
And as September lifted Demi—not a gag lift, but a genuine, trembling hold—she felt something shift. Not surrender. Not performance. A promise. voice low. “Like the lights