In the control room, the producer sat back, letting a slow smile spread across his face. He barely had to touch the faders. The chemistry between the two artists was doing all the work. They weren't just singing notes; they were living out a tragedy in real-time.
Alina watched her, feeling the goosebumps rise on her arms. When it was her turn to take the pre-chorus, she didn't just sing; she unleashed. Her voice soared, rich and velvety, grounding Bianca’s airy melody. She brought the pain of holding on too tight, the vocal equivalent of fingernails digging into skin. Then came the chorus—the heart of the song. "Strânge-mă în brațe..."
"Just breathe it out here," Alina whispered to Bianca during the brief pause.