"No, it's not." He looked at her with those too-old eyes. "Either you want to stay or you don't. Do you want to stay?"
Raven's throat felt tight. "Yeah. I do. But I can't. It's not that simple."
"Mum and Dad said it was complicated too." Jamie's voice had gone very small. "They said they needed space to work things out. And then Dad moved out. And now he's gone. He doesn't even come to my school plays anymore." He looked down at his hands. "I wish he'd just stayed. Even if it was hard. Even if they fought sometimes. At least he'd be here."
Something cracked open in Raven's chest.
She'd been Jamie. The kid watching the adults leave, telling herself it was for the best, that it was complicated, that sometimes people just had to go. She'd spent her entire childhood being the one left behind.
And now she was the one leaving.
"I'm sorry," she managed.
"It's okay." But his voice said it wasn't. "I just thought… I thought maybe you'd be different."
Raven wanted to tell him she was. Wanted to promise she'd stay, that she'd figure it out somehow, that she wouldn't be another person who walked away.
But she'd already packed her suitcase. Already accepted the studio deal. Already told Annabelle it was over.
"I'll still send you lessons," she said. It sounded pathetic even to her own ears. "And you can email me anytime. About guitar or anything else."
"Yeah. Thanks."
He stood up, shouldering his backpack, and for a terrible moment Raven thought he was going to hug her goodbye. But he just gave her a small, sad smile and walked away toward the school gates.
Raven sat on the bench alone, watching him go, and felt like the worst person in the world.
THAT NIGHT, SHE sat in the cottage with her guitar and didn't even pretend to sleep.
The words had been circling her brain all evening, ever since Jamie had walked away. Ever since Arty had asked her if she was leaving because she wanted to or because she was scared.
Why make it right when it's easier to run?
Her fingers found the chords almost automatically. Minor progression, something that ached. The melody came next, raw and honest in a way she hadn't written in years.
She didn't try to polish it. Didn't try to make it pretty or radio-friendly. She just let it pour out, all the fear and self-loathing and desperate, bone-deep wish that she could be someone different. Someone brave enough to stay.
The verses wrote themselves. The chorus was angry and accusatory, throwing the question back at her own reflection:Why make it right when it's easier to run? Why stay and fight when the damage's already done?
She played it through once, twice, adjusting a line here and there. Adding a bridge that cut straight to the truth: she was choosing to leave because staying meant risking everything, and she'd never been good at risk.
By the time the sky started to lighten outside her window, she had a complete song.
Not a fragment. Not a verse and a half that petered out into nothing. Not a B-side. A full, recordable song with verses and a chorus and a bridge that would sound devastating over a stadium sound system.
Raven set down her instrument and stared at the notebook pages scattered across the coffee table, covered in her messy handwriting.
She'd done it.
After months of nothing, of staring at blank pages and half-finished melodies that went nowhere, she'd finally written something real. Something marketable.
And it was about choosing to run instead of risking everything.
The irony wasn't lost on her.
Raven picked up her phone and scrolled to Claire's last message.Studio booked for Tuesday. Don't be late. This is your shot.
She typed back:I'll be there.
