The TV screen flickered with the final announcement of the night. Album of the Year. The biggest award. Billie’s album Hit Me Hard and Soft had dominated the polls, sitting at 55% of fan votes, while Cowboy Carter trailed with 25%. The numbers didn’t lie. Billie should’ve had it in the bag.

But the moment the presenter read Beyoncé’s name, the cameras cut immediately to Billie. Crying. Not just a few tears—real, heartbreaking tears. Like she already knew she lost before they even said it. Your stomach twisted as you watched from the couch, gripping the blanket draped over your legs. This had to be rigged. There was no way. No way.

You stared at the screen, jaw clenched, heart sinking as Billie wiped at her face, trying to pull herself together while the crowd roared for Beyoncé. She should’ve been up there. That award should have been hers. But instead, she was sitting there, trying not to break down in front of millions of people.

An hour passed. You had turned the TV off, unable to stand watching the rest of it. The house was silent, except for the occasional buzz of your phone—texts from people probably saying “WTF” or “Billie was robbed.” But you ignored them. The only thing that mattered was Billie.

Finally, the front door opened. Quietly. Hesitantly.

Billie was home.