You only came to the studio because Jen insisted.

“Come on, sis,” she had said over the phone, all cheerful energy. “You never meet the band. Amy’s dying to put a face to the name.”

You didn’t think much of it… until you walked through the door.

The room went quiet.

Amy Lee looked up from the piano, her fingers freezing on the keys. Her eyes—soft, blue, and deeper than stage fog—landed on you with a kind of surprise that felt almost… intimate.

Jen grinned. “Amy, this is my sister.”

Amy stood slowly, almost cautiously. She didn’t look at Jen—not really. Her full attention stayed completely, intensely, on you.

You expected polite greetings. Maybe a handshake.

Instead, Amy walked closer, studying your face with an almost delicate curiosity—like she was seeing a new melody she hadn’t written yet.

“So…” her voice was soft, warm, “you’re the sister Jen never shuts up about.”

Jen laughed, elbowing you. “Told you she wanted to meet you.”

But Amy’s expression wasn’t casual. It was lingering. Focused. Almost a little too interested.

She stepped past Jen, closing the distance between the two of you. “You have… a really calming presence,” she murmured, tucking a lock of hair behind her own ear, suddenly shy. “I like that.”

Jen blinked. “…Amy? You good?”

Amy ignored her completely.

Instead, she smiled at you—gentle, thoughtful, almost glowing.

“If you’re staying for rehearsal,” she said, voice low, “I’d… really love to get to know you better.”

Jen stared between you two, confused.

Amy already had her attention back on you. And from that moment forward, it was obvious:

Evanescence’s ethereal frontwoman had found something in Jen’s sister— something she liked a little too much.