The following morning, Maya stood in front of her bathroom mirror, staring at the woman reflected back at her. Her eyes were shadowed with too little sleep and too much memory. The conversation with Julian the day before had replayed on an endless loop in her head—his voice, his touch, the way he looked at her like time hadn't passed. Like she hadn't bled for three years while he lived in neon and noise.
She splashed cold water on her face, scrubbed away the thoughts, and tied her hair up in a messy knot. The shower hissed to life as she stepped in, hoping hot water could wash away ghosts. But even steam couldn't erase the way Julian's words had made her feel.
Did you really think I didn't love you?
She should've walked out. Should've told Zara to shove the contract and burned every memory along with it. But the truth was, there was something inside her that wanted to confront it all—not just him, but herself. Who she had been. Who she'd become.
Later that day, she returned to Vortex Studios with her lyric book hugged tightly to her chest. Inside Studio B, the lights were low, casting amber shadows across the equipment. Julian wasn't there yet. Thank God.
Maya walked slowly toward the grand piano in the corner. Her fingers hovered over the ivory keys. She let them fall, gently, coaxing a delicate melody to life. One she hadn't played in years.
It was the first song they'd written together.
"'Midnight Remedy,'" came a voice from the doorway.
She didn't turn. "You remember."
"Of course I remember," Julian said, stepping in, guitar case in hand. "It was the first time I realized how much better I sounded with your words."
"That's not exactly a compliment."
"It's the closest thing I've got today."
She sighed, closing the piano. "I didn't come here to relive our mixtape of mistakes."
Julian set down his case and joined her at the center of the room. "No. But if we're going to write something honest, maybe we have to. We have to remember what we were before it all broke."
Maya stared at him. "You want to rewrite history?"
"I want to understand it."
Against her better judgment, she sat. They fell into a rhythm that was oddly natural. Melody. Countermelody. Words that stumbled into verse.
And slowly, the memories came back.
They had met at a songwriting workshop in Echo Park—Maya fresh out of a heartbreak, Julian chasing a solo deal after splitting from his band. He had swagger, sure, but there was a vulnerability in him then that felt raw. Real.
They partnered up for an impromptu challenge. Write a chorus in ten minutes. Maya had scribbled down a line without thinking: I keep loving you in places that break me.
Julian had looked at her like she was made of light. "That's the hook."
They didn't win the challenge. But they went for drinks after, stayed out till 3AM, and wrote a song on the back of napkins. One that would later debut on Julian's first solo EP.
By then, they were inseparable. Long nights turned into early mornings. Music became foreplay. Their first kiss happened between verses. Their first fight followed a month later—about credit, about control. It wouldn't be their last.
Back in the present, Maya paused, scribbling something in her notebook. Julian watched her closely.
"You used to hum when you were onto something good," he said.
"I still do. Just not for you."
He flinched, just slightly.
"I deserved that."
"You deserve more than that," she replied, not unkindly. "But I'm not here to punish you. I'm here to write the truth."
Julian leaned back in his chair. "Then let's do that. The ugly truth. The whole damn thing."
They spent hours peeling back layers—examining old wounds, laughing at moments that used to ache, tensing at the ones that still did. Maya found herself drawing strength from the past, even as it tried to drown her.
When they broke for dinner, Maya stepped outside for air. She leaned against the building, letting the city buzz around her. It was then she heard a familiar voice.
"Maya?"
She turned and smiled despite herself. "Liam."
He approached with that boyish smile that always warmed her. Dressed in a black tee and jeans, camera bag slung over his shoulder, he looked every bit the calm in her chaos.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"Mixing a live set upstairs," he said. "Didn't know you were back."
She shrugged. "It's temporary."
He studied her for a moment. "You okay?"
"I'm writing with Julian."
His expression darkened. "You're kidding."
"Nope. Zara came to find me. It's... complicated."
Liam exhaled. "It always is with him."
They stood in silence, the hum of the city swirling around them. Finally, Liam said, "If you need to decompress, come by the store tomorrow. We're jamming. Just something low-key."
Maya smiled. "Thanks. I might."
Back in Studio B, Julian had already resumed work. He looked up as she reentered, eyes flicking to her face like he could tell something had shifted.
"Friend of yours?" he asked casually.
"Someone who never made me feel disposable."
Julian stiffened. Maya didn't wait for a response. She went to the piano and started playing.
The rest of the night bled into music. Each lyric was a scar, every melody a memory given shape. Julian added harmonies, soft and haunting. At one point, their hands brushed on the keyboard. She didn't pull away immediately. Neither did he.
When they wrapped close to midnight, Julian said, "This song is different."
"It's not a song. Not yet. It's a reckoning."
He watched her gather her things. "You think we'll survive this?"
Maya paused. "We're not supposed to. This isn't about survival. It's about truth."
Julian nodded slowly. "Then tell it all."
She looked him in the eye. "Oh, I will. And this time, the truth will sound like me."