the speech she wrote for him
happy birthday maria!!
Ni-ki didn’t remember walking off stage.
He remembered the lights, the sound of his name. The weight of the award in his hands felt like it didn’t quite belong to him yet.
He remembered bowing so many times his body stopped feeling like his own.
And then, nothing clear after that. Just motion. Just hands on his shoulders, guiding him through a hallway too bright to feel real.
Backstage smelled like sweat, perfume, and celebration, trying to disguise exhaustion.
Someone said congratulations for what felt like the hundredth time. Someone else laughed too loudly. A camera flashed somewhere it wasn’t supposed to.
Ni-ki stood still in the middle of it all, as if he moved too much, the moment would collapse.
His manager approached slowly.
She didn’t smile.
That was the first thing that made something in his chest tighten.
“I… found something,” she said carefully, like she was choosing each word so it wouldn’t cut him.
She held out an envelope.
Plain. Slightly worn at the edges. Folded too many times and then kept carefully anyway.
Ni-ki stared at it.
No name was written on the front. It didn’t need one.
His fingers moved before his thoughts caught up.
And when he touched it, it felt like time folded in on itself.
Y/N.
He didn’t say it out loud.
He didn’t have to.
His throat closed as he took it from her.
“She had it with her things,” his manager added softly. “We think she meant to send it. Or… keep it. I don’t know. But it’s for you.”
Ni-ki nodded once, though he didn’t feel like he was agreeing with anything in particular.
His hands were shaking now.
Not badly.
Just enough that he noticed.
He stepped away from the noise, from the congratulations, from the world that suddenly felt too loud for something so small.
There was a narrow hallway just behind the stage, half-lit, half-forgotten. He leaned against the wall there, as his body had finally decided it couldn’t stand on its own anymore.
And only then did he open it.
The paper inside was folded neatly.
Carefully.
Like she had expected it to survive a long time.
Like she had expected him to survive long enough to read it.
His breath caught when he saw the handwriting.
Even after years, even after distance, even after silence that had stretched into something heavier than absence, he recognized her instantly.
Y/N always wrote as if she were trying to outrun her own thoughts, slightly slanted letters, uneven spacing, like she was always halfway between one moment and the next.
Ni-ki swallowed hard.
Then he read.
the speech she wrote for him
If you’re reading this, then I was right.
Don’t look so annoyed already, I can literally feel your expression through the paper. You always think I’m being dramatic when I say things like that, but I’ve always been right about you.
So. Congratulations, Ni-ki. You did it.
Say it properly in your head. Don’t rush past it like you always do when you don’t know how to sit with good things. I said it slowly for a reason.
Congratulations.
You are standing somewhere you used to only look at from far away. I know because I remember you telling me about it like it was a dream you weren’t allowed to touch yet.
And now it’s real. I’m proud of you.
I know you don’t like that word either. You always get quiet when people say it like you’re waiting for a condition to be attached to it. But there isn’t one here.
Just pride. Just you.
I can see it already. You're on that stage. The way your hands will tighten around the award before you even realize you’re holding it too hard. The way you’ll bow like you’re trying to give the moment back because it feels too big to keep.
Don’t give it back. It’s yours.
And I know what you’re going to do first. You’re going to thank everyone else before you even think of yourself. You always do that. Like you’re trying to distribute your success so it doesn't weigh as much on you.
But listen to me carefully, Ni-ki. This one is yours first.
Before the company. Before the team. Before the fans. Before anyone who helped shape you.
You.
I wish I could be there to say it out loud. I wish I could be standing somewhere in the crowd pretending I’m not crying while you pretend you’re not overwhelmed. But I can’t.
So I’ll say it the only way I still can. I told you I would be at every major milestone in your life. Do you remember that?
You laughed when I said it. You told me I was making promises I couldn’t keep. You said life doesn’t work like that.
You were right. It doesn’t. So I changed what “being there” means.
I knew this moment would come. I always knew. Not because I’m special. Because I paid attention to you more than you ever paid attention to yourself.
I saw where you were going before you did.
I saw what you would become when you were still convinced you were not enough.
So I started writing this years ago. On days you were tired and didn’t tell me. On days you thought you were failing but still showed up anyway. On days you smiled like it didn’t hurt. I wrote this speech for the day you would win something so big you wouldn’t know where to put your feelings.
And I was right. So if you’re reading this now, then you made it. You actually made it. And I did, too. Because I got you here.
Even if I’m not there standing next to you, I’m the reason this happened. I’m in every moment you kept going when you didn’t want to. I’m in every decision you made when quitting would’ve been easier.
I’m not gone from your milestones, Ni-ki. I just stopped standing where you expected me to be. So don’t look for me in the crowd. I won’t be there.
And I was hoping you would not turn. I would be grateful if you would do nothing that hurts you more than it should.
This isn’t abandonment. It’s a continuation.
You don’t get to erase me from this story just because I’m not visible in the frame anymore.
Look at me differently. Look at me in the way you almost didn’t give up. Look at me in the way you didn’t. That’s where I am. And I will be there for everything after this, too. Every stage. Every award. Every moment you think you’re alone. You won’t be. Not ever. So congratulations again, Ni-ki. You did exactly what I always said you would do. And if you’re crying right now, wipe your face before you go back out there. You hate it when I’m right about that, too.
—Y/N
The paper trembled in his hands.
Once.
Then again.
Ni-ki pressed it closer to his chest, as if that could anchor him.
But it didn’t.
Because the strangest part wasn’t that she wasn’t there.
It was how much she still was.
He exhaled shakily, dragging a hand over his face, but it didn’t stop anything. Not the pressure behind his eyes. Not the tightness in his throat. Not the way his mind kept replaying her voice in sentences he couldn’t unhear.
From down the hallway, someone called his name.
They were waiting for him to come back out.
To smile again.
To celebrate again.
To be the version of himself that fits neatly into applause.
Ni-ki looked down at the letter one more time.
Then folded it carefully.
Like she had.
Like it mattered.
When he finally moved, it was slower than before.
But it was still forward.
Because somehow, even now,
That was what she had taught him to do.
Copyright 2026 - present © hazelira all rights reserved. All writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.
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