I just want to make music, I don't want people to talk about me.

Opening Scene

The dim glow of a streetlight filtered through the curtains, casting long, shadowed lines across the floor. It was late evening, and the soft hum of the city outside barely pierced the silence of the small, intimate living room. Jack sat on the couch, legs stretched out, the empty space beside him occupied only by the quiet of the room. Jeeny sat near the window, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, a book in her hands, but her mind clearly elsewhere. The night felt like it was holding its breath, as if waiting for something to break the stillness between them.

Host: The atmosphere was charged, the air in the room dense with unspoken thoughts. And then, as though the words were inevitable, Jeeny spoke.

Jeeny: “Do you ever wonder, Jack, what it would be like if you could just create without all the noise around you? If you could just do something because it matters to you, without the pressure of the world watching?”

Jack: He glanced up at her, his gaze skeptical but curious. “You mean like… a musician? You know, the kind who just does their thing and ignores the fame? Seems like a dream, Jeeny. Everyone wants the spotlight.”

Jeeny: Her eyes softened, the tone in her voice gentle, but laced with an undercurrent of something deeper. “No, not the spotlight. Just… the music. The creation. The feeling that comes when you’re doing something just for the sake of doing it, not because you need the world to notice you.” She paused, as if to find the right words. “Like Adele. You know, how she’s always said that all she’s ever wanted is to sing. To make music, not to be a celebrity.”

Jack: A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, his voice tinged with cynicism. “Adele, huh? The same woman who’s always on magazine covers, breaking records, getting endless attention? Seems like she’s got it all figured out, huh? No celebrity, just pure music?”

Host: The fireplace crackled, the heat from the flames barely making a difference against the cool air of the room. Jeeny’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if the conversation had just veered in a direction she hadn’t expected. Her expression was patient, but there was a sharpness to her words now.

Jeeny: “Yes, exactly that. She’s never wanted the fame. She always said the music is what matters. She’s said, time and time again, that she didn’t want to be in people’s faces all the time, or be on magazine covers she didn’t even know about. She just wanted to sing. But the world made her a celebrity, despite what she wanted.”

Jack: His eyes locked on hers, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. “So, what? We’re supposed to just ignore that fame comes with the territory? That’s the deal. You can’t have your cake and eat it too, Jeeny. People want to see the artist, know about their life, their struggles. It’s what makes their music feel real to people. It’s part of the deal.”

Jeeny: “But that’s just it, Jack,” she exhaled, a slow sigh of frustration. “We’ve built this culture where people aren’t allowed to just create anymore. It’s like… we take everything about them, turn it into something for consumption, and forget that behind it all, they’re just people. Adele has talked about how she just wants to make music that connects with people, but we can’t let her just do that. We have to put her in a box, label her as a celebrity—and then we wonder why so many artists struggle with it.”

Host: The fire crackled again, as if punctuating her words. Outside, the wind had started to pick up, the sound of it whispering against the windows. There was a moment of silence as both of them sat, contemplating what had been said. Jack’s fingers drummed lightly on the armrest of the couch, a sign of his growing impatience.

Jack: “I get it. People can’t just be artists anymore. They’re products. But come on, Jeeny, Adele made that choice. She’s the one who signed the contracts, who took the stages. She can’t pretend like she’s just a quiet artist now. She’s not hiding from the fame. She knew what she was getting into.”

Jeeny: She leaned forward, her tone calm, yet there was an undeniable edge to it. “She did sign up, yes. But she never signed up for the pressure. The constant scrutiny, the being pulled in a thousand directions. She never wanted to be marketed like that. All she wanted to do was sing. And I don’t think that’s too much to ask for, Jack. To just have the freedom to create, without being suffocated by the world watching you, expecting things from you.”

Host: The room had grown quieter now, the only sound the soft whistle of the wind outside. Jack’s gaze softened, his eyes no longer just questioning, but now searching for something deeper in her words. His voice, when he spoke, was less defensive than before.

Jack: “So, you think she’s a victim of it all? That she has no choice but to play the game?” His eyes were searching, not just for an argument but for a piece of the truth she was offering. “I guess I get what you’re saying. But what about all the people who wanted that fame? Who crave it? Adele could’ve walked away at any time. She could’ve gone off the grid, but she didn’t.”

Jeeny: “You’re missing the point,” she said softly, but firmly. “It’s not about whether or not she could’ve walked away. It’s about the fact that the world doesn’t let her walk away. The moment she became famous, the world owned her. Her life, her privacy, her every move. And all she wanted was to make music. Is that too much to ask for?”

Host: A heavy silence filled the room, each word hanging like an unspoken truth between them. Outside, the snow had begun to fall in heavier drifts, blanketing the world in soft, quiet white. The world, it seemed, was just as much at war with itself as they were in their conversation.

Jack: “I don’t know, Jeeny. I still think people should be accountable for what they sign up for. Fame doesn’t just come without a price.”

Jeeny: “I’m not saying it’s all easy, or that she’s blameless. But what if, at the heart of it, all she ever wanted was to be heard, not to be a headline? What if we could let people just make their art, without demanding their lives in return?”

Host: The fire burned low now, the glow casting gentle warmth through the room, while outside, the snow continued to fall, blanketing the world in stillness. Jack and Jeeny sat in the quiet, their differences felt but not overwhelming. They were both lost in their thoughts, each of them holding a piece of the truth they were both trying to understand.