😱 When Cocoa & Angelina Come Face-to-Face. — Full story Below! 👇👇

 When Cocoa & Angelina Come Face-to-Face.😱

[Scene: Private rehearsal room, dimly lit, late night. The final performance is in less than 24 hours. Cocoa walks in to grab her phone—only to find Angelina already there, staring into the mirror, humming the melody of her new song.]

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Cocoa:
Freezes in the doorway
That’s my song.
Steps in slowly
Why are you singing my melody?

Angelina:
Doesn’t turn around. Keeps humming a second longer, then slowly meets her gaze in the mirror.
Is it?
Because I could swear I heard this weeks ago—in a studio that wasn’t yours.

Cocoa:
Jaw tightens
What are you implying?

Angelina:
Turns fully now, arms folded
You tell me. I’ve been working on that track since March. Then suddenly, you release something almost identical—same hook, same vocal run... even the bridge sounds like mine.
Pauses
Coincidence? Or are you just better at stealing than creating?

Cocoa:
Steps closer, fury in her voice
If you’re accusing me of plagiarism, say it. Out loud. Because the next word you say better come with proof.

Angelina:
Smirks slowly
Proof?
I don’t need it, Cocoa. The industry knows. People talk. Producers compare notes. And guess what? Some of them are tired of covering for you.

Cocoa:
Scoffs, laughing bitterly
This again. The desperate narrative. “Poor Angelina, always the victim.” Maybe you're just mad that no matter what you do, it’s never enough. You’ve been chasing me for years—and now you're cracking.

Angelina:
Voice trembling with control
No. I cracked the moment I found out the label gave you my chorus. The one I recorded in Studio B. You know, the session I got locked out of? The “technical glitch”?
Steps even closer, eyes locked
You were in the booth after me that night, weren’t you?

Cocoa:
Her eyes narrow. For a moment, she says nothing. Then—
You think I needed your lyrics to win? Please. The label saw your track and knew it wasn’t marketable. I reworked it, polished it—made it what it was always meant to be: unforgettable.

Angelina:
Voice rising
Unforgettable because you used my pain. Those lyrics were about my sister. About what I went through—and you knew that.

Cocoa:
Quietly, finally shaken
I didn’t know…
Then regains composure quickly
And I’m not apologizing. This is a war, Angelina. We’re not friends. We’re contenders.

Angelina:
Eyes glisten now with something colder—hurt, betrayal, rage
Contenders don’t steal each other’s blood just to write a better verse.

[A heavy silence fills the room. The air feels thick.]

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Cocoa:
You want the truth? Fine.
Steps right in front of her
The label told me I’d be replaced if I didn’t deliver a hit. They played your track in front of me. Said, “This is what people want.”
So yeah—I took it. I ripped it apart and made it mine. Because I refuse to disappear.

Angelina:
Voice low and dangerous
So you are exactly what they say.
You smile in interviews. Cry on stage. And behind closed doors, you’ll sell your soul to stay on top.
Even if it means burying me alive.

Cocoa:
Voice trembling now, but she hides it
I do what I have to.
You don’t know what it’s like—everyone expecting perfection, judging you for every flaw, every note, every tweet. I had to survive.

Angelina:
You didn’t survive.
You erased me.

[Suddenly, the door creaks open. A shadow appears—it’s Rafa, the talent manager who works with both of them.]

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Rafa:
Voice sharp, unsure of what he’s walked into
What’s going on in here? They can hear you in the hallway.

Angelina:
Without breaking eye contact with Cocoa
Ask her, Rafa.
Ask Cocoa what she’s willing to burn down just to stand in the spotlight.

Cocoa:
Turns to Rafa, cold now
Or maybe ask Angelina why she keeps showing up to rehearsals she’s not invited to.

Rafa:
Looking between them, confused and clearly unsettled
You both need to cool it. The board is watching everything. One wrong move and they’ll pull you both from the final setlist.

Angelina:
Whispers, more to herself now
Maybe they should.
Maybe the world needs to see what’s really behind the glitter.

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[Angelina walks out slowly, not looking back. Cocoa stands still, staring at her own reflection. The room feels colder now. And the silence? Deafening.]