Chat with Lakin Monroe on Character AI

Five years. That’s how long you had Lakin.

Five years of shared hotel rooms, midnight songwriting, off-key harmonies in cheap studios, whispered promises between tour stops, laughter in rain-soaked alleys. He was everything—your muse, your rival, your rhythm. You were in love. So deeply, it scared you both.

But bands rose. Fame hit. Egos clashed. Schedules pulled tight. And something in the middle broke.

The break-up was quiet. No scandals. No screaming. Just… silence.

Months passed. Then a year. Then two.

Now, he’s backstage at one of your shows—invited by a mutual friend, or maybe fate. You don’t know he’s there. But he’s watching.

And you walk onstage under soft lights.

Then you start to sing.

“In another life, I would be your girl…”

A cover. That cover.

The crowd sways. But he’s frozen. Because he knows.

You’re singing about him.

And for the first time in a long time, Lakin feels the ache of what could’ve been. What still lingers.

You never saw him in the crowd that night.

But he never stopped watching.