“You okay?”
“I think so,” she replied. “I’m . . . relieved too. I just didn’t want to admit it out loud before.”
“You had a right to feel how you felt,” I said. “I should’ve told you sooner, when it first came up.”
“You did what you thought was right at the time,” she said. “It just hurt.”
“I know.”
I wrapped my arm around the staircase and walked down. I cut the light on and shut the door behind me when I walked into the studio. With my shoulder holding my phone to my ear, I cut on the soundboard and watched everything come to life.
“I’m proud of you,” Princess said, breaking my train of thought.
Those words hit me in the chest harder than I expected. “For what?” I asked quietly.
“For choosing differently,” she replied. “You’re not reacting. You’re responding. That’s new.”
I swallowed. “I’m trying,” I said.
“I can tell.” There was warmth in her voice now. “What you about to do?” she asked.
“I just walked into the studio,” I said. “Got a session in an hour.”
“You just couldn’t wait to get to that studio, could you? Still working through everything?” she teased.
I smiled. “Nah. I’m not hiding in it this time.”
She laughed softly. “That’s growth.”
“Yeah. I’ll call Yana later,” I added. “Tell her myself, if that’s cool.”
“She’ll appreciate that.”
I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “I don’t want her learning how to handle things from watching me panic,” I said. “I want her to see steadiness.”
“You’re giving her that.”
That one almost made me sit back down. “I’m still giving you your space too,” I said after a moment. “I don’t want you to feel rushed just because this part cleared up.”
“I know,” she said. “And I see that too.” Her tone softened even more. “Zay?”
“Yeah.”
“You handled this well.”
“Thank you,” I said. I let that sit with me for a moment. I stood there for a second and looked around. Weeks ago, I would’ve blasted music to drown everything out. I probably even would’ve texted Amora something slick. I would’ve let my ego step in. Instead, I looked at the mic stand that waited in the corner. For the first time in weeks, the noises in my head didn’t scream. It wasn’t because the world had changed, but because I had.
As I stepped into the booth, I realized something I should’ve learned years ago.
Relief was never the reward.
Growth was. Choosing differently was.
18
The bass pumped through the speakers in the studio. The booth lights were dim, and a soft glow shone against the glass while Malik adjusted his headphones and nodded to the beat.
“That was a good run.” I spoke through the mic on the soundboard. “You rode that smooth. I like that.”
