The melody of my song pulls me deeper, and I’m lost in it. The notes become my emotions, vulnerable and bare. And suddenly, I realise—I’m playing the way I heardher. She says she’s fine, but it’s what she doesn’t say that screams the loudest. The truth is in her quiet tone, the way her voice wavers in the middle of a sentence. I wonder if she realises how much she’s revealing without saying anything at all.
I wonder if Lucas could ever hear it.
I’ve never spent much time alone with April—funny how that only happens now, after she’s finally rid of my brother. Lucas never deserved her. She was always too good for him. I knew that from the start.
From the moment I saw the worried expression on April’s face at their engagement party, I knew Lucas was hiding something. I could see it in the way he was constantly checking his phone, sneaking glances like a kid who’d just discovered his own dick for the first time.
It’s weird for a man his age to be on his phone that much.
But that’s Lucas. Always chasing more. Nothing’s ever enough—jobs, friends, relationships. He gets comfortable for a while, then it’s as if stability starts to itch. The second things feel settled, he bolts, always searching for something better, shinier, like it’ll somehow fix what’s broken inside him.
And the worst part? I think deep down he knew April was the best thing that ever happened to him. But his ego wouldn’t let him see it through, so he let her slip right through his fingers, like a whisper in a breeze.
Lucas and I were never close growing up. The five-year age gap didn’t help—we were in different worlds. When I started secondary school, he was already off to university. While I was learning algebra, he was drinking pints and studying. By the time I wanted to close the gap between us, too much distance had already settled in. We were too different.
We did spend a bit more time together in my early twenties, mainly during long weekends and bank holidays. I’d stay with Mum and Dad and bring Abigail, my girlfriend at the time, along. But outside of those trips, we stayed in our own lanes and kept to ourselves.
He always called me the Golden Child, but it was never really like that. When Lucas left for university, it was just me at home with our parents, and I always made more of an effort with Mum and Dad—something he never bothered with.
Mum struggled with her mental health while we were growing up. Some days she’d shut down, isolate herself and hide away from everything. Dad always tried his best, which was never great, so I’d try to step in and help her out.
Being the youngest, I noticed when Mum’s mood began to shift. I was more reliant on them, so I saw when Mum needed support. I spent more time with her, played music for her when she was down. She’d take me to my guitar lessons and would stay to watch when I asked—that always made her happy. We had a bond. Not because I was placed on a pedestal or because I was the youngest, but because I cared—something Lucas never had time for.
He proved my point when he betrayed my trust and let me down harder than anyone ever had. It was the kind of betrayal you don’t come back from. Honestly, he’s lucky I still fucking talk to him.
When my hands finally grow tired and my fingertips sting from the strings, I set my bass back on the stand. I pull out my phone and shoot a message to the lads.
Me:We all good for practice tomorrow?
Oliver replies immediately.
Oliver:Absolutely. See you boys then.
Will:Yup.
Tom:All good. See you tomorrow.
Settling into my usual spot on the sofa, I drop my phone beside me and flick on the TV. I select my favourite show with the intention of distracting myself, but I can’t stop thinking about April—how sad she looked. Meek and tired.
When Anna told me April hadn’t been going to work, guilt gnawed at me. And when I saw her—when I took one look at her—I knew how defeated she was. My heart fucking broke for her.
The skin around her eyes appeared bruised with exhaustion, her skin pale and lifeless, missing that glow she always seemed to carry. Even her hair was undone, like she didn’t have the energy to care. April’s the kind of woman who takes pride in herself—always effortlessly beautiful. But when I saw her, her spark was gone. The woman I saw wasn’t the April I know.
My own flesh and blood did that to her.
And I can’t fucking let it go.
“Again!” Oliver shouts, clicking his drumsticks together overhead. I dive straight into the bass line. My fingers work on autopilot as they glide over the frets and my pick finds the strings.
Practice has been ramped up to multiple times a week, on top of the gigs we’ve already got locked in. It’s tiring, but that’s part of music.
We run through a few more sets, and by the time we’re done, we’re drenched in sweat and our bodies are heavy from exhaustion. Tom, our singer, grabs a water bottle and downs it in one go, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he catches his breath.
We start packing up, winding our cables and unplugging amps, my ears still buzzing from the music. As I coil my bass lead, Oliver asks, “So, how was your weekend, mate?”
I casually detail April and Lucas’s break-up, and how I spent my weekend caring for Basil and tidying up April’s townhouse, brushing it off as if it was no big deal, even though it was anything but.
Oliver chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re way too noble for your own good, mate.”
