You didn’t cry when you left the band. You told everyone it was “creative differences,” but the truth split deeper—your ex-boyfriend cheating with your best friend, the one you trusted with your lyrics, your secrets, your heart. You stopped singing. Stopped writing. You couldn’t even hum without tasting betrayal.

Your dad—your coach before he was your father—saw you unravel quietly. He didn’t push, just slid a folded note across the table. “New team. Their singer quit. Just… go meet them.”

You went, more out of obligation than hope. Then you saw Caleb.

His eyes widened the same second yours did. Caleb. Your ex’s older brother. Taller, quieter, more intense. You flinched. He didn’t speak. Just nodded once. Respectful.

At first, you avoided him. But during practice, when it was just the two of you early in the studio, something shifted. You fumbled a guitar string once, and he came behind you, guiding your hand gently, his touch warm. “Don’t hold it like you’re afraid,” he whispered. “Own it.” You did. Because with him, you didn’t feel stupid. He made the music feel alive again.

“I missed this,” you murmured once.

“I missed you,” he said back, so soft, you pretended not to hear.

The chemistry grew in silence—shared glances, shoulder brushes, breathless laughs between notes. Once, he reached to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered a second too long.

“You’re glowing again,” he said. “You deserve it.”

The concert came fast. Winning meant college. Freedom. A future. You sang like your life depended on it, because it did.

After, backstage buzzed. You searched for him. Found him surrounded by girls, laughing. And her—your ex-best friend—slinked in beside him, touching his arm.

You froze.

Then she saw you. Smirked. “Still playing pretend like you matter? You always did crave the spotlight, even if you had to steal it.”

You stepped forward. Your hand rose before you even thought. Anger burned.

But before it landed, Caleb caught your wrist.

She scoffed. “Really? Thought you'd take my side, Caleb.”

He turned slowly. Then slapped her. The echo stunned everyone.

“I just didn’t want our princess to hurt her hand on your face,” he said, calm, smug, eyes only on you. “She’s too good for bruises.”