She nodded, a proud smile slipping through.
Moments like this grounded me. Reminded me who I was outside the family politics.
I clapped both their shoulders and stepped back into the hall.
That’s when I heard her voice.
Leona’s voice hit the glass before I even saw her.
Low. Emotional. Smooth.
I walked straight to the studio she was in, knowing I shouldn’t have. Her voice always hit me in my soul.
She stood in the booth with her eyes closed, headphones on, body moving like she felt every lyric in her bones.
I stayed quiet behind the glass.
Watching.
The producer spotted me and froze. I lifted my hand slightly.
Keep going.
She finished the verse, voice cracking just enough at the end to make it real.
When she stepped out and saw me, she didn’t look surprised.
Just slow, knowing.
The producer left, leaving us alone.
I studied her.
“You look better when you’re not belligerent on the internet.”
She smirked. “You look better when you’re with me.”
I didn’t answer that.
She leaned against the wall, arms folded, watching me like she was trying to read something under my skin.
“You’ve been ghosting,” she said.
“That’s my name, isn’t it? I’ve been busy, though.”
“That’s what we’re calling it?”
Her voice still pulled at something familiar. Something easy.
I ignored it.
“What you working on?”
She shrugged. “Music. Healing. Trying not to think about men who disappear after the biggest breakup of their life.”
I almost laughed.
Some things never changed.
