Half The World Away

Meanwhile in L.A.

Later that day, as the sun began its slow descent towards the horizon, painting the sky in hues of fiery orange and soft lavender, Jade found herself perched on the cool metal hood of her car in the otherwise bustling Hollywood Arts parking lot. The golden haze of twilight cast a cinematic glow over everything, softening the sharp edges of the school buildings and the surrounding palm trees, lending a dreamlike quality to the familiar landscape. But despite the picturesque setting, Jade felt anything but like the confident lead in some romantic drama. Today, she was merely a solitary figure silhouetted against the vibrant sky, lost in the labyrinth of her own regret.

Her phone lay heavy in her hand, the screen stubbornly dark, reflecting the turbulent emotions swirling within her. She hadn’t dared to open Instagram, hadn’t allowed herself the torturous scroll through the curated realities of others. She simply couldn’t bring herself to face the possibility of seeing Tori’s bright smile radiating from some sunny corner of Australia, her arm casually slung around that guy again. The mere thought was enough to twist something sharp and unpleasant in her gut.

Andre’s calm, unwavering voice from their earlier conversation echoed in her mind, a persistent refrain that refused to fade:

“She’s not waiting, Jade.”

And a small, rational part of her, the part that wasn’t consumed by a gnawing sense of loss, grudgingly admitted that Andre was probably right. It was fair, in a twisted sort of way. Jade had been the one to deliver the dismissive words, the one to slam the door on the fragile possibility that had bloomed between them. She had told herself, with a brittle bravado, that she didn’t care, that Tori’s leaving was ultimately her own decision, her own fault. People left all the time, she had reasoned, trying to minimize the significance of Tori’s absence.

But the carefully constructed wall of indifference had crumbled, revealing the raw vulnerability beneath. What had initially felt like a display of strength now felt like a profound, self-inflicted wound, a gaping emptiness where Tori’s vibrant presence had once been. It was a slow, persistent ache in her chest, a sharp pang of regret that pierced through her carefully constructed defenses with increasing frequency.

Finally, with a sigh that carried the weight of her unspoken emotions, she pulled out her earbuds and fumbled with her phone until she found the voice memo she had recorded in the lonely hours of the previous night. This wasn’t the one for Tori, the raw confession that still sat unsent, a digital ghost trapped within her phone’s memory.

This one was different. This one was just… a melody. Haunting and bare, stripped down to its emotional core. Something she had hummed into her phone at two in the morning, when the silence of her room had felt less like solace and more like the walls closing in, suffocating her with the weight of her solitude.

Her own voice, soft and fragile, whispered over the simple, melancholic tune:

“i wish i hated you / it’d make this easier but you kissed me like a promise / and i ran like it was fire”

A familiar tightness constricted her chest, the raw honesty of the lyrics mirroring the turmoil within her.

She looked down at her phone screen again, her thumb hovering hesitantly over Tori’s contact information. Still no new texts. Still no missed calls. Nothing but the deafening silence of Tori’s absence.

And she could feel it, that subtle but significant shift, like a delicate thread that had quietly snapped while she hadn’t been paying attention. Tori was slipping away, the distance growing with each passing day, each unanswered message.

No – the painful truth settled in her gut like a cold stone – Tori had slipped away. And Jade, in her stubborn pride and fear, had let her go.

She let out a long, shaky breath, the cool evening air doing little to quell the heat rising in her cheeks. With a hesitant swipe, she finally opened their message thread, the digital record of their fractured connection.

The last message Tori had ever sent her stared back at her from the screen, stark and unwavering in its simple sincerity:

“I meant it.”

Jade’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, a flurry of words forming in her mind, desperate pleas and belated apologies. She started to type, her thumbs flying across the screen, but then, with a sudden surge of self-doubt, she deleted it all, the digital ink vanishing into the void.

She tried again, her fingers moving more slowly this time, each letter a conscious effort.

“I miss you.”

But again, her finger hovered over the send button, paralyzed by a potent cocktail of pride and fear. The message remained unsent, a silent testament to her internal conflict.

She simply stared at the words on the screen, the soft glow illuminating the raw vulnerability of her admission… until the screen dimmed, succumbing to inactivity, and her own deafening silence answered her back. The golden light of the setting sun faded into a deeper twilight, mirroring the fading hope within her own heart.

The insistent buzzing of her phone sliced through the fragile quiet of the evening, a jarring interruption that yanked Jade back from the precipice of sending that vulnerable message to Tori. Her heart, still fluttering with the weight of unspoken words and lingering regrets, lurched slightly at the intrusion.

Incoming Call: Beck

His name glowed brightly on the screen, a familiar beacon from a past she had thought she had navigated away from. It was the same name that used to ignite a spark of anticipation within her, back in the naive days when she had equated safety with forever.

For a long, suspended second, she did nothing, her thumb hovering hesitantly above the answer button, caught in a strange inertia.

The screen lit up again, the persistent ringing a gentle but firm nudge. She let it ring once… twice… the familiar melody echoing in the stillness of her car.

Then, with a sigh that carried a hint of resignation, she finally answered.

“Hey,” Beck’s voice came through the speaker, smooth and familiar, a comfortable presence in the swirling chaos of her thoughts. “You doing anything tonight?”

Jade leaned back against the cool glass of the windshield, her gaze fixed on the fading hues of the twilight sky, the vibrant colors slowly bleeding into the soft embrace of night. “Depends, Beck. You asking for a reason?”

A low chuckle rumbled through the phone. “Thought we could hang. Just us. Like old times.”

A beat of silence stretched between them, the unspoken history of their on-again, off-again relationship hanging heavy in the air.

“Is this you trying to make us a ‘thing’ again?” Jade asked, her voice blunt and direct, cutting through the pleasantries.

A hesitant pause followed her question. “I don’t know, Jade. Maybe. I just… things felt simpler when it was you and me.”

Simple.

The word landed like an unexpected punch to the gut, a stark and unwelcome comparison.

Tori had never been simple. She had been a volatile mix of fire and fear and a raw, unfiltered vulnerability that Jade hadn’t known how to hold without the constant fear of dropping and shattering something precious. But Tori had also been undeniably real. Complicated, messy, unfiltered – everything Jade often tried so hard to avoid.

And Beck… Beck had become the comfortable mask she instinctively reached for when she didn’t want to be truly seen, a familiar shield against the messy complexities of genuine connection.

Jade’s voice dropped, the earlier sharpness softening with a newfound clarity. “What if… what if I don’t want simple anymore, Beck?”

Another, longer pause stretched between them, the silence now imbued with a sense of finality.

Beck finally spoke, his voice tinged with a quiet understanding. “Then maybe… maybe I’m not who you’re looking for, Jade.”

Jade stared at the darkening sky for a moment longer, the first stars beginning to prick the fading canvas of twilight.

“You’re not,” she said quietly, the admission carrying a surprising weight of certainty. “But… thanks for the call, Beck.”

Without waiting for a reply, she ended the call, the sudden silence in the car amplifying the quiet resolution that had settled within her.

Her phone buzzed again almost immediately.

Not Beck.

It was a notification from Instagram.

@torivega just posted for the first time in a while.

Jade’s breath hitched in her throat. She didn’t open the app. Not yet. A strange mix of anticipation and dread held her captive.

But her hands were shaking, a tremor that betrayed the carefully constructed indifference she tried so hard to project.

Because this was the moment of truth. This was the part where she had to make a choice.

To remain a distant observer, watching Tori navigate her new life, potentially with someone else.

Or to finally, truly fight like hell to stop her from slipping away completely.

The next day at school, the courtyard buzzed with its usual midday energy – a cacophony of laughter, snippets of impromptu musical performances, and Cat’s high-pitched voice carrying above the din, something about the optimal consistency of cafeteria spaghetti.

Jade sat alone under the sprawling branches of her usual shade tree, one black-booted foot resting casually on the edge of the weathered bench, earbuds in, half-listening to the discordant melodies of some obscure band that resonated only within the confines of her own unique taste.

Until Andre ambled over, his familiar figure casting a long shadow across her solitary space.

He offered her that easy, non-judgmental smile he always wore when he knew he was about to say something that would likely elicit a less-than-enthusiastic reaction from her.

“Hey,” he said, sliding the strap of his guitar case off his shoulder and letting it rest on the ground beside him. “So, we’ve been talking – me, Cat, and Robbie.”

She popped one earbud out, her expression wary. “Should I be worried, Andre?”

He smirked, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Maybe a little. But it’s good, I promise.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow, unconvinced.

“We’re thinking of going to Australia. This summer. To see Tori.”

Jade’s outward expression didn’t change immediately, her carefully constructed mask of indifference remaining firmly in place. But Andre, ever the keen observer, caught the almost imperceptible stiffening of her jaw, the subtle clench of her fists.

“Just a chill thing,” he added quickly, sensing her internal resistance. “Couple of weeks. Beaches. Music. Catching up. You should come, Jade.”

Jade opened her mouth, a sharp retort already forming on her lips – a sarcastic dodge, a dismissive deflection. But before she could utter a single word, a familiar voice slid smoothly into the conversation from behind her.

Beck.

He rested his hand lightly on her shoulder, a casual, possessive gesture that oozed practiced charm.

“She’s not going,” he stated with an air of confident finality before Jade could even formulate a reply. “We’re going to Cancun. My parents booked this insane resort. All-inclusive, ocean views, the works.” He punctuated his announcement with a condescendingly casual glance at Andre.

He smiled down at Jade, his expression radiating an assumption that her plans were already aligned with his. “And let’s be real,” Beck added, his tone laced with a subtle possessiveness as he addressed Andre, “Jade would much rather be with her boyfriend than… anyone else. Right, babe?”

Jade froze, the casual weight of Beck’s hand on her shoulder suddenly feeling like a suffocating restraint. The pressure to conform, to maintain the comfortable lie, tightened around her like a physical vice.

Say something. Now. The urgent command echoed in the sudden silence within her.

She forced a smile, a brittle, artificial curve of her lips – a carefully constructed lie dressed in familiar lipstick. “Yeah. Cancun sounds… great.” The word tasted like ash in her mouth.

Andre nodded slowly, his lips pressed together in a thin, knowing line. “Right.”

He took a deliberate step back, his gaze lingering on Jade for a moment, unreadable but definitely not buying her performance. “Well… let us know if you change your mind.”

He turned and walked off without waiting for a response, his retreating figure leaving a palpable tension in his wake.

Jade sat still, Beck’s hand still resting on her shoulder, a symbol of the comfortable cage she had built for herself.

Her stomach churned with a sickening wave of nausea. Not because of the lie she had uttered, but because of the truth she had so desperately avoided.

Because the second Andre had uttered the word “Australia,” her heart hadn’t clenched at the thought of long flights or unfamiliar landscapes.

It had clenched at the terrifying, exhilarating possibility of maybe, just maybe, seeing her again.

And now? Now that chance, that fragile glimmer of hope, was slipping away. Again.

All because she had chosen silence over the terrifying vulnerability of speaking her truth.

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Jade and Beck walked side by side through the crowded halls of Hollywood Arts, a familiar tableau of the school’s social landscape. But for once, the physical proximity felt like a cruel illusion, the space between them stretching into a vast, silent chasm, a tangible manifestation of the growing disconnect in their carefully constructed relationship.

Beck was talking, his voice a steady stream of enthusiastic pronouncements about their upcoming trip to Cancun – the luxurious resort with its sprawling pools, the array of activities they could partake in, the endless promise of sun-drenched fun. His tone was almost salesman-like, as if he were desperately trying to convince a reluctant customer of the undeniable appeal of his offer. But Jade wasn’t truly listening, her mind a million miles away, lost in the tangled web of her own regrets and unspoken desires.

She had done it. She had effectively shut down the nascent idea of a trip to Australia, the one faint glimmer of possibility that had flickered within her, the one thing that might have offered a sliver of healing to the deep wound in her heart. But then Beck had appeared, his easy smile and familiar reassurances promising a “better” vacation, a chance to “relax” and escape the messy realities she was so desperately trying to avoid.

And, with a sigh of weary resignation, Jade had gone along with it. Because that was what she always did. She allowed herself to be safe, to retreat into the comfortable predictability of their relationship, even though that comfort was beginning to feel less like security and more like a suffocating enclosure.

Her feet continued to move in practiced synchronization with Beck’s, but her pace gradually slowed, her gaze fixed on the scuffed linoleum of the hallway floor, as if the answers to her internal turmoil might somehow be etched into its worn surface.

Beck noticed her lagging behind, the subtle shift in her energy. His voice softened, losing some of its forced enthusiasm. “You okay, Jade?”

Jade offered a sharp, jerky nod, almost too quick, too emphatic to be believable. “Yeah, fine. Just… tired.” The lie felt thin and transparent, even to her own ears.

He frowned, a flicker of genuine confusion crossing his usually placid features. “Are you sure? You’ve been… off lately, Jade. Like, really off. More than usual.”

She shot him a forced, brittle smile, a carefully crafted mask designed to deflect further scrutiny. “I’m just… adjusting, Beck. It’s been a lot lately, you know?” The vague explanation hung in the air, unsatisfying but hopefully sufficient to deter further probing.

Beck didn’t seem entirely convinced, a thoughtful crease forming between his eyebrows, but he let the subject drop for the moment, respecting her unspoken boundaries. “Well,” he continued, his voice regaining some of its earlier buoyancy, “we can do whatever you want in Cancun. I’m talking private beach dinners under the stars, couples massages at the spa… maybe even some cliff diving if you’re feeling adventurous.”

Her stomach churned at the thought of him planning things for her, meticulously outlining an itinerary of activities she hadn’t requested, things she didn’t truly need or desire. The prospect of forced relaxation and manufactured romance felt suffocating.

But she kept her expression carefully neutral, offering another tight, insincere smile. “Yeah, sounds… fun,” she muttered, the enthusiasm conspicuously absent from her tone.

Beck was quiet for a beat, his gaze searching hers, a flicker of unease in his eyes. “You sure you don’t want to talk about it, Jade? About… Tori, I mean?”

Her throat tightened instantly, the mere mention of Tori’s name sending a sharp pang of longing and regret through her chest.

“Beck, don’t,” she warned, her voice coming out much colder and sharper than she had intended, the carefully constructed wall of indifference cracking under the pressure. “We don’t need to talk about her.”

His face darkened slightly, a hint of hurt and confusion clouding his features, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Jade—”

“I said don’t, okay?” she snapped, her carefully cultivated patience finally breaking, the raw edges of her pain exposed. “I left her, Beck. I made my choice. Don’t make me second-guess it.” The vehemence in her voice betrayed the very insecurity she was trying to conceal.

Beck didn’t respond immediately, the tension between them thickening, hanging heavy and unspoken in the crowded hallway.

“I just… I want you to be happy, Jade,” he said quietly, his voice almost too soft for her to hear over the surrounding noise, a plea for understanding and a desperate attempt to bridge the growing gap between them.

Jade didn’t offer a reply. She couldn’t. Because the stark, undeniable truth that echoed in the hollow chambers of her heart was that she wasn’t happy. Not with Beck, not with this carefully constructed facade of a life she had built to avoid the messier, more authentic emotions. And while a part of her might have desperately hoped she could pull it off, might have even momentarily fooled herself into believing that this comfortable predictability was enough, the gnawing emptiness within told a different story. It wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

She didn’t know how to fix the growing chasm between them, didn’t possess the courage to dismantle the carefully constructed walls she had erected. The car ride home was a testament to their unspoken disconnect, filled with a silence that wasn’t tense or angry, but something far more desolate – an emptied out kind of silence, the kind where every significant word that desperately needed to be said had been swallowed down and buried beneath layers of forced small talk and hollow laughter hours ago.

Beck pulled up in front of Jade’s house, the brief sweep of his headlights across the front porch illuminating the familiar facade. The street was quiet, the sky a dusky, melancholic violet, a few brave early stars beginning to peek through the fading light.

He turned off the ignition, plunging the car into silence, but didn’t immediately unbuckle his seatbelt.

Jade reached for the door handle, eager to escape the suffocating confines of the car and the unspoken tension that filled it.

“Wait,” Beck said softly, his hand gently covering hers, preventing her from opening the door.

She froze, her hand still resting on the cold metal, her breath catching in her throat.

He leaned over, closing the small distance between them, and kissed her – a soft, practiced kiss, familiar and comfortable in its routine.

But it felt strangely detached, like a scene she was observing from someone else’s life, a memory she was trying to re-enact, the spark that had once ignited between them now stubbornly absent.

Her lips remained passive, unresponsive. She didn’t kiss him back.

When he finally pulled away, he offered a small, reassuring smile, as if nothing was amiss, as if the lack of reciprocation hadn’t registered. “Night, babe.”

“Yeah,” Jade replied, her voice flat and devoid of emotion. “Night.”

She climbed out of the car and shut the door with a deliberate, almost exaggerated care.

He drove off without noticing her lack of enthusiasm, the taillights of his car disappearing into the twilight.

Jade stood on the sidewalk for a few long seconds, the cool evening air chilling her skin, before finally turning and heading up the steps to her silent house.

The soft jingle of her keys echoed in the stillness as she unlocked the front door, walked through the darkened living room, and quietly retreated into the solitude of her own bedroom. She didn’t bother turning on the lights, the familiar shadows offering a strange sense of comfort. She simply dropped her bag onto the floor, kicked off her boots, and sank down onto the edge of her bed.

Her fingers instinctively traced the outline of her lips, still feeling the phantom pressure of Beck’s kiss.

Still cold.

That kiss used to mean something, used to ignite a flutter in her chest, a feeling of being wanted, understood.

Now? It felt like nothing. A hollow gesture, devoid of any real connection.

And it scared her, the unsettling realization of how okay Beck seemed with that growing emptiness between them.

She laid back slowly on her bed, her gaze fixed on the darkened ceiling, the familiar patterns of the plaster seeming to mock her with their unchanging permanence.

Then, against every instinct of self-preservation, she reached over and picked up her phone… and opened Instagram.

Tori’s post was still there, the image burned into her memory. A vibrant photo of her laughing, bathed in the warm Sydney sunlight, with that guy – Justin – his arm casually slung around her shoulders. The caption below was simple, direct, and utterly devoid of any reference to their shared past:

“New cities. New chapters. New songs.”

No mention of Jade. No hint of lingering heartbreak. No cryptic lyrics or veiled double meanings.

Just… forward.

Jade stared at the image, the casual intimacy between Tori and Justin a sharp, unwelcome contrast to the growing chasm in her own relationship.

And this time, the ache in her chest didn’t come in a familiar wave of longing.

It came in a sudden, sharp crack, a fissure that seemed to split her right down the middle, leaving her feeling hollowed out and exposed.

With a shaky breath, she closed the app, the bright screen fading to black.

She placed the phone facedown on her nightstand, the silence of the room amplifying the turmoil within her.

And whispered, the words barely audible in the darkness, a raw admission of her own monumental blunder:

“God, I really screwed this up.”

Beck strolled through the front door of his parents’ house, a forced casualness in his gait, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. He wore that familiar “everything’s great, don’t worry about it” expression, a carefully constructed mask he often donned when things were decidedly not great, but he lacked the inclination to actually deal with them.

“Hey!” he called out, his voice echoing through the quiet house. “You guys around?”

His mom’s head poked out from the doorway of the kitchen, her expression a mixture of curiosity and mild suspicion. “Back here, Beck.”

He walked into the kitchen, flashing a wide, hopefully disarming grin. “So, I’ve got news.”

His dad glanced up from the glow of his laptop screen at the kitchen table, his eyebrows raised in silent inquiry. “What kind of news?”

Beck leaned against the counter, affecting an air of nonchalant ease. “You know how we were talking about the Cancun trip? Well, I’m bringing Jade with us.”

A heavy silence descended upon the kitchen, a silence far more significant than any dramatic outburst – a silence thick with disappointment and unspoken reservations.

His mom blinked slowly, her gaze fixed on him. “You’re… bringing Jade?”

Beck raised a brow, feigning innocent confusion. “Yeah. Why is that weird?”

His dad sighed, a weary sound that spoke volumes, and closed his laptop with a decisive click. “Beck. We specifically said this was a family vacation.”

“She’s basically family,” Beck argued, offering a nervous chuckle as if the whole thing was just a minor misunderstanding, an overreaction on their part. “Come on, guys. You know her.”

His mom folded her arms across her chest, her expression firm. “Oh, we do know her, Beck.”

Beck’s smile faltered, the forced cheerfulness evaporating. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She’s cold, Beck. She’s often rude. She talks down to people. That girl made Cat Valentine cry at our Christmas dinner two years ago over a song choice – a Christmas song, for heaven’s sake.” His mom’s voice held a distinct edge of disapproval.

“She was right about the key change,” Beck muttered under his breath, a weak attempt at defense, but his parents were clearly not swayed.

“She’s always had a chip on her shoulder,” his dad added, his tone equally disapproving. “We’ve let you two figure things out, navigate your… unique dynamic. But this trip is about relaxing, spending quality family time. And frankly, we’re not particularly interested in vacationing with someone who thinks eye-rolling is a valid form of communication, let alone a love language.”

“Seriously?” Beck looked from his mom to his dad, his frustration building, the easygoing facade finally cracking. “So now I don’t get to come just because I invited Jade?”

His mom crossed the small kitchen and picked up a printed travel itinerary from the counter, her movements precise and deliberate.

“You’re still invited, Beck,” she said carefully, her gaze unwavering. “But not with her. We are not spending thousands of dollars to be uncomfortable for an entire week.”

Beck stared at her, his jaw slack with disbelief. “You’re kidding me.”

“We are not kidding, Beck,” his dad stated firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. “It’s a no. A definite no.”

And just like that, Beck found himself ensnared in the unexpected consequences of a choice he hadn’t even truly considered a choice, a comfortable assumption of his parents’ unwavering acceptance suddenly shattered.

He stood there, his jaw clenched tight, his hands balling into frustrated fists at his sides. “Right,” he muttered, his voice tight with suppressed anger. “Cool. Thanks.”

Without another word, he turned and walked out of the kitchen, slamming the back door harder than necessary, the sound echoing through the suddenly tense house.

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Tori was a picture of relaxed comfort, curled up on the plush studio couch, her bare feet tucked beneath her. She wore one of Justin’s ridiculously oversized flannel shirts, the soft fabric swallowing her small frame, paired with her own familiar leggings. Her dark hair was piled into a messy, haphazard braid that somehow managed to look effortlessly chic. The late afternoon sun, a warm, honeyed glow, streamed through the giant industrial windows, bathing the room in a golden light that danced across the sleek surfaces of the mixing boards and the worn leather of guitar cases scattered around the room.

Her phone, nestled in her hand, vibrated softly, and her face immediately brightened, a genuine smile illuminating her features the moment she saw the caller ID.

Andre📀🎹

With a swift swipe, she answered the call, her voice infused with warmth. “Dre!”

“Yo! What’s good, superstar?” Andre’s familiar, cheerful voice boomed through the speaker, bridging the vast geographical distance between them.

Tori laughed, the sound light and carefree. “Not much, man. Just finished tracking vocals for another track. This studio is seriously amazing, you wouldn’t believe it. And the beach is, like, right there. I’m basically living my best life over here.”

Andre chuckled, a warm, familiar sound that tugged at a small, wistful part of her heart. “Sounds like it. I miss your chaotic energy though, T. Cat still has this elaborate theory that you’re gonna come bursting back into school one day, surprising us all from inside a giant glitter cannon.”

Tori smiled, a touch of longing in her voice. “Tell her I’m saving that grand entrance for the Grammys red carpet.”

From across the spacious room, Justin walked in, a tall iced coffee in each hand. His perpetually tousled dirty blonde hair was even more disheveled than usual, and his favorite black band t-shirt looked slightly rumpled, a testament to the long hours they had been spending in the studio.

He offered her one of the icy drinks, raising a questioning brow as he caught the tail end of her laughter into the phone.

“Who’s that?” he asked casually, settling onto the couch beside her, his gaze never truly leaving her face.

Tori covered the phone’s microphone slightly with her hand. “Andre,” she mouthed, offering a quick, almost conspiratorial smile.

Justin nodded slowly, taking a long sip of his iced coffee, his eyes fixed on her, a silent observer of her connection to her past.

On the phone, Andre was still talking, his voice a steady stream of updates from home. “—also, uh, listen, we might actually be planning a little trip out to visit you. Me, Cat, Robbie. Maybe even Jade. Though she’s being all ‘I don’t do sunshine’ and dramatic about the whole thing.”

Tori froze for a split second, her breath catching in her throat, a sudden, unexpected jolt running through her.

“Wait,” she said, sitting up straighter on the couch, her previous relaxed demeanor instantly replaced by a palpable tension. “Jade might come?”

Justin’s head tilted just a fraction of an inch at the mention of the name, his green eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. He didn’t say anything, his silence a careful observation. Not yet.

“Yeah,” Andre replied, his voice shifting, becoming a little more cautious, as if he sensed the change in Tori’s demeanor. “Don’t know if she actually will, you know Jade. Beck’s being all weird and clingy again. Everything’s… kinda complicated back here.”

Tori swallowed, a lump forming in her throat. “Right. Yeah. Sounds… familiar.” The word hung in the air, a subtle acknowledgment of her own complicated history.

Justin finally spoke up, his tone still casual but with a subtle undercurrent, a sharpness that hadn’t been there before. “Old friend?”

Tori glanced at him, her gaze fleeting. “Something like that.” The vagueness of her answer felt like a small betrayal.

Andre’s voice came through the phone again, softer now, laced with concern. “You good, T?”

She hesitated for a fraction of a second, caught between the comfort of her past and the tentative promise of her present. “Yeah, Dre. I’m okay.”

They wrapped up the call soon after, the earlier lightheartedness replaced by a more subdued tone. She promised to send some new demos, told him how much she missed them, and hung up, the silence in the studio suddenly feeling heavier.

Justin looked at her over the rim of his iced coffee cup, his gaze direct and probing. “Jade,” he repeated the name slowly, thoughtfully. “That the one you… don’t talk about?”

Tori leaned back against the cushions of the couch, pulling her knees up to her chest, her arms wrapping around them protectively. “Yeah.” The single word carried a weight of unspoken history.

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “Ex?”

Tori looked away, her gaze drifting towards the sun-drenched windows. “Not… officially.”

“But it hurt like one.” His observation was quiet, perceptive.

She didn’t offer a verbal confirmation, the silence speaking volumes.

Justin reached out and gently took her hand, his touch a warm anchor in the sudden storm of her thoughts. “Do I need to be worried, Tori?”

Her heart thudded against her ribs, a sudden, anxious rhythm.

“No,” she said, her voice firm, trying to convince herself as much as him. “I’m here, Justin. With you. I meant it.”

Justin offered a small, reassuring smile, but something flickered behind his eyes, a hint of uncertainty that belied his outward calm. “Okay.”

But neither of them spoke for a while, the unspoken complexities of Tori’s past relationship hanging heavy in the air, a silent acknowledgment that some things don’t need to be spoken out loud to still exist, to still cast a long shadow.