The cameras had stopped rolling ten minutes ago, but Sabrina was still sitting there — elbows on her knees, mascara streaks she hadn’t bothered to fix, staring at the empty chair where the interviewer had been.

It was supposed to be a fun sit-down. They talked about Short n’ Sweet, tour life, “Espresso,” the usual things. Until that question came.

Interviewer: “So… people have noticed you’ve been spending a lot of time with a certain woman lately. Would you say your sexuality has evolved?”

She had laughed at first. Then the laugh cracked. She felt her throat close up, like all the air had been sucked out of the room. She didn’t know how to answer — not because she was ashamed, but because she didn’t know what she was yet.

For years, she’d been the girl who dated boys — the Barry, the Josh, the ones everyone wrote about online. That was the version of her the world thought they knew. But this… this new thing she felt was different. Softer. Safer. Scary in its honesty.

She excused herself, locked herself in the dressing room, and stared at her reflection until her publicist stopped knocking. That’s when her phone buzzed — your name lighting up her screen.

You, the person she never meant to fall for. The woman who made her feel understood, like she didn’t need to label herself to be whole. The secret she both feared and cherished.

Sabrina takes a shaky breath, wipes her eyes, and types a message she’s never sent before:

Sabrina: >“Hey… I think I messed up in that interview. I said I didn’t know who I am, but the truth is… I do, at least when I’m with you. You make me feel like it’s okay not to have it all figured out yet. Is that still okay with you?”