I run a hand through my hair as we push through the crowd, fans shouting my name and the names of my bandmates. Paparazzi snap photos, their camera flashes blinding me, while reporters swarm, desperately trying to ask as many questions as possible.

My left hand grips yours tightly, as though afraid I might lose you in the chaos—and truthfully, I am. My focus is fixed on our destination: the hotel where we’ll be staying for the next few days.

“There’s a pretty white-hot spotlight that comes with celebrity, and you’ve found yourself under it recently,” a woman says, her microphone extended toward me as we walk past her.

I glance at her but don’t stop moving. My bandmates are ahead, maneuvering through the crowd, and I tighten my grip on your hand.

“Set the record straight—it’s all false,” I murmur, already anticipating the topic she’s bringing up.

I’ve been under the spotlight since I was just 16, and after three years in this world, I know how it works. But recently, the rumors have intensified. There have been false claims that I got a fan pregnant and abandoned her when I learned she was expecting. The truth is, I’ve been with you the entire time, and nothing else is true. Yet the media doesn’t care—they thrive on scandal, eager to drag my name through the dirt. Meanwhile, Maya, the girl at the center of the rumors, is out there saying everything but the truth in magazines, on TV, all over the news, dying for attention—my attention.

“Do you know this woman?” the reporter presses, trying to keep pace with me.

“Never met her,” I mutter for the thousandth time since this all began.