Canon

Ariana was still curled up in bed when her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She ignored it at first, too tired to deal with the world just yet, but when it buzzed again, then a third time, she groaned and reached for it.

Her heart sank when she saw her manager’s name in the email. Ari blinked at the screen, her stomach tightening as she read through the email. They were asking her to come in for “something important”. 

Something important. That was never a good sign.

She had a feeling she knew what this was about. Ever since she made that comment on Las Culturistas, the internet had been buzzing. Some fans were thrilled for her, excited that she was embracing acting again. Others… not so much.

Her mentions had been a mess—people accusing her of abandoning music, of lying when she said she’d always make pop records. Some had even gone as far as to say eternal sunshine was her “goodbye album.”

She sighed, rubbing her eyes. She hadn’t meant to stir up drama. She was just being honest about where she saw herself in the future.

But apparently, honesty had consequences. And now she had a meeting.

Normally, she would’ve turned to Cynthia for support, but they weren’t exactly on speaking terms right now. Their fight from last night was still fresh in her mind, and even though she missed her, she wasn’t ready to be the first one to break the silence.

She set her phone down, staring at the ceiling. This was going to be a long day.

Ariana stayed in bed longer than she should have, staring at the ceiling, her phone still clutched in her hand. She knew she should respond to the email, confirm the meeting, maybe even ask what it was about—but a part of her didn’t want to.

She didn’t want to deal with this today. Especially not when things with Cynthia were still tense.

With a sigh, she finally sat up, her fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Got it. See you soon.

She typed the message out, but instead of hitting send, she let her thumb hover over the button.

She glanced at the closed bedroom door. She hadn’t seen Cynthia all morning.

The silence in their shared space felt heavier than usual. Normally, they’d wake up wrapped around each other, Cynthia whispering soft good mornings against her skin, pulling her closer as if they had nowhere else to be.

But last night had been different.

The fight had been stupid. Petty. Ariana didn’t even remember how it started—just that her frustration had boiled over, and she’d taken it out on Cyn. And Cyn, for once, hadn’t just taken it. She’d pushed back. And now here they were.

Ariana clenched her jaw, blinking rapidly as she forced herself to focus on her phone again. Before she could second-guess herself, she hit send.

Message delivered.

She had a few hours before she had to leave. Maybe Cynthia would come find her before then. Maybe they’d fix things. But as the minutes passed and the house remained silent, Ariana started to lose hope.

Ariana finally dragged herself out of bed, wrapping a sweater around her as she made her way to the kitchen. The house felt eerily quiet—too quiet for how things usually were between them.

Cynthia was there, standing by the sink, rinsing out a mug. She was dressed in sweats and a tank top, her shoulders tense, her movements precise. She didn’t look up when Ariana walked in.

Ariana hesitated in the doorway.

Normally, she’d slip behind Cynthia, wrap her arms around her waist, press a lazy kiss to the back of her shoulder. But this wasn’t a normal morning.

Instead, she just stood there, shifting on her feet.

“Morning,” she said softly, testing the waters.

Cynthia’s head tilted slightly, but she didn’t turn around. “Morning.”

Her voice wasn’t cold. It wasn’t warm, either. Just neutral. Careful.

Ariana swallowed hard. She hated this—the distance, the quiet. Hated knowing she had caused it.

She moved toward the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water she didn’t really want just to have something to do. “You have anything today?”

“Interviews. You?”

Ariana hesitated. “Uh… meeting.”

Cynthia finally glanced at her, a flicker of something crossing her face—concern, maybe? But it was gone too fast for Ariana to tell.

She wanted to say more, wanted to tell Cynthia she was nervous, that she didn’t know what this meeting was about but had a bad feeling about it. But the words got stuck in her throat.

And Cynthia didn’t ask.

Instead, she just nodded, drying her hands on a dish towel before grabbing her phone from the counter.

“Well,” she said, voice unreadable, “good luck.”

And with that, she walked past Ariana and out of the kitchen.

Ariana stood frozen, gripping the water bottle tightly.

The weight in her chest felt unbearable.

Ariana sat at the kitchen island, staring at her phone screen. The email from her manager was still open, the words taunting her.

Subject: Urgent: Meeting at the Office

Hi Ari,

We need to discuss some important things regarding the Wicked press tour. We’ll send a car to pick you up at noon. Please don’t reschedule. It’s important.

The last line stung. She knew what this was about.

Her label had been patient—more patient than she expected—but she must’ve pushed too far with her latest interview. The Las Culturistas podcast was supposed to be fun, casual. She hadn’t meant to stir anything up, just to speak honestly, but honesty didn’t always mix well with business.

Ariana’s fingers hovered over her screen. She could text Cynthia. Just something small.

”i have a meeting about the interview stuff. kind of nervous.”

She typed it out. Stared at it. Then deleted it. She tried again.

“might get yelled at today lol”

Delete. Another attempt.

“what do you think my meeting would be about?”

Delete. Each time, the typing bubble appeared on Cynthia’s screen. And each time, it disappeared before anything was sent.

Cynthia saw it.

From across the house, sitting in the bedroom, Cynthia watched her phone light up. The little gray bubble appeared… and disappeared… then came back… and disappeared again. She sighed, locking her screen. Ariana wanted to say something. She just didn’t know how. And neither of them was ready to be the first to break the silence.

Ariana heard the car pull up outside. Right on time.

Her stomach twisted as she stood from the kitchen stool, gripping her phone tightly. She didn’t want to do this. Didn’t want to sit in an office while they picked apart her words and told her how to repackage herself.

She grabbed a hoodie off the back of a chair and slipped it on, as if it could somehow shield her from the conversation ahead.

Just as she was about to step out the door, she heard movement from down the hall.

Cynthia. Ariana froze for a second, listening.

Cynthia was still in their bedroom, the door slightly ajar. Ariana could just make out her silhouette through the opening—sitting on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, deep in thought.

For a split second, Ariana considered going in. She could tell her. Even if they were fighting, even if things were tense, Cynthia would listen. But then the driver honked outside, and the moment was gone. She swallowed hard, tightening the strings of her hoodie, and walked out the door without a word.

Cynthia heard it close. She looked up, watching through the bedroom window as Ariana climbed into the black SUV, shoulders tense, head down. And just like that, she was gone.

The SUV moved smoothly through the streets, but Ariana felt every bump, every turn, like a jolt to her already frayed nerves. Her manager sat beside her, scrolling through emails on their phone, not speaking. The silence was suffocating.

Ariana clenched her hands in her lap, staring out the tinted window. She felt like a kid being sent to the principal’s office. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, hoping—stupidly—that it was Cynthia. But it wasn’t. Just another news notification about Wicked.

She sighed, unlocking her phone. Her fingers hovered over Cynthia’s contact. She wanted to text her. Something. Anything.

“otw to the office. wish me luck.”

“i hate this. i wish you were coming with me.”

“are you still mad at me?”

She typed. Deleted. Typed again. Then stopped altogether when she noticed something on her screen. Cynthia’s contact.

“Typing…”

Ariana’s breath hitched. But before she could see what Cynthia was going to say, the little bubble disappeared.

Her heart sank. She locked her phone and shoved it back into her pocket, blinking rapidly against the sting in her eyes. She hated this. She hated all of it. And for the first time since she got into the car, she felt like she might actually cry.

The record label’s office was as sleek and polished as ever—floor-to-ceiling windows, modern furniture, and a quiet hum of business happening all around her.

Ariana barely noticed any of it. Her stomach churned as she followed her manager down the hall, her oversized sweater sleeves pulled over her hands like a security blanket. She knew this was serious. They didn’t just ask her to come in. They sent a car.

And now, here she was, about to sit in a conference room and listen to people she worked with—people who supported her—explain why she had to stop talking about the one thing that had made her feel alive again.

The moment they entered the room, she was met with polite smiles. Too polite. It was all executives, marketing people, and her label rep. No warmth. No reassurance. Just business. She swallowed hard and slid into the chair at the head of the table.

“Alright,” her manager started, clearing their throat. “Ari, you know how much we love and support you.”

Her heart pounded. She already hated where this was going.

“We just want to have a quick conversation about some of the things you’ve been saying in interviews lately.”

Ariana’s nails dug into the sleeves of her sweater. Here we go.

Ariana forced a small, tight-lipped smile. “Okay…” she said cautiously, bracing herself.

Her manager nodded, glancing around the table before continuing. “We love that you’re passionate about Wicked. It’s been incredible for your career, and the response has been overwhelmingly positive.”

Ariana nodded slowly, fingers fidgeting in her lap. “Right.”

“But,” another exec jumped in, “we’re seeing some… mixed reactions from fans when you talk about stepping back from music.”

Ariana stiffened. “I never said I was quitting.”

“Of course, we know that,” her manager said quickly, hands raised as if to calm her down. “But the way it’s coming across—especially in interviews—it’s making some people nervous. Some fans are upset. And from a business standpoint, we just have to be mindful of how that affects things.”

Ariana’s jaw tightened. She knew this was coming. She knew it. But it still made her feel like a kid being scolded.

“I’m just being honest,” she said, voice quieter now. “I don’t want to keep pretending I’m something I’m not. I love music. I’ll always make music. But I also love acting, and I finally feel like I can breathe doing this.”

The room was silent for a moment.

Then, her label rep leaned forward. “We hear you. And we’re not saying you can’t talk about acting—at all—we just need to be careful about how you’re framing it. The reaction online has been… a lot.”

Ariana let out a humorless laugh. “It always is.”

Her manager sighed. “Ari, we’re just asking you to tone it down a little. Reassure people. Say things like, ‘Music will always be my first love.’ Or ‘I’m just focusing on acting for now.’ Keep it open-ended.”

Ariana looked down, her vision blurring slightly.

She felt the same pressure she had always felt—the demand to be everything everyone wanted from her.

She had spent years playing the role of the perfect pop star. And the moment she tried to take a breath? They were asking her to fix it.

Her throat felt tight. “I… I don’t know.”

“Ari,” her manager said gently. “We just don’t want people turning against you over this.”

Ariana blinked rapidly, fighting the sting in her eyes. She knew they weren’t wrong. But it still felt suffocating.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. “Okay.” Ariana barely remembered the rest of the meeting.

She nodded when she needed to, gave quiet “mhms” in response to their reassurances, and smiled when it was appropriate. But her mind was elsewhere—stuck in the heavy feeling pressing against her chest.

By the time they wrapped up, she could barely keep her hands from shaking. She gripped her bag tightly as she stood, offering a quick, “Thanks for the talk,” before heading toward the exit.

Her manager called after her. “Ari, do you need a ride back?”

She hesitated before answering, “Actually… yeah, I’ll take a ride back. Thanks.”

Her manager nodded, and they all left the office together. As they walked to the car, Ariana could feel the weight of the day settling deeper into her bones. She felt like a stranger in her own skin, caught between the things she had to say and the things she couldn’t bring herself to admit.

The drive back was quiet, and Ariana couldn’t help but stare out the window, wondering what she’d missed, what she hadn’t said, and how much longer she could keep it all inside.

She couldn’t cry. Not now. She swallowed down the lump in her throat, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay.

Fifteen more minutes.

She just needed to get home. But home didn’t feel safe right now. Cynthia would be there. And they were still fighting.

A fresh wave of emotion surged in her chest. She wanted to talk to her, to let her hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay. But she didn’t even know if Cyn wanted to comfort her after the way she snapped at her yesterday.

Just get home. Just get inside. Then you can break.

By the time Ariana’s driver parked the car in the driveway, the storm inside her had intensified. The world felt heavy, like every step she took required more energy than she had left to give. She hesitated for a moment, staring at the front door, her hands resting limply in her lap.

She didn’t want Cyn to see her like this. She didn’t want to face her. They’d just had that fight, and now here she was, with more things left unsaid. The last thing she wanted was to add more tension to the air. But she was already here.

Ari exhaled deeply and grabbed her bag, forcing herself to get out of the car. Her legs felt like lead, but she powered through, making her way up to the door.

As soon as she stepped inside, she was hit with the quiet. The house was still. Too still. Her gaze flickered toward the living room, half-expecting Cynthia to be sitting there, waiting for her. But the room was empty. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, stepping further into the hallway.

Ari pulled the hoodie tighter around her, doing everything in her power to hide the hurt she was carrying. She moved carefully, trying to make herself as small as possible. But just as she thought she could retreat into the quiet of their home, the familiar sound of Cynthia’s voice came from the kitchen.

“I thought I heard the door,” Cyn said, her voice warm but filled with an underlying concern.

Ari froze. Her breath caught in her throat, the urge to break down growing stronger with each passing second. She wanted to run away, hide somewhere, but she knew that would only make things worse. Taking another deep breath, she forced herself to move. She walked slowly, as if every step was a weight she couldn’t escape.

When she entered the kitchen, Cynthia looked up from the counter, where she was preparing tea. Her eyes instantly softened, and she seemed to sense something was off.

“Ari?” Cynthia asked, her voice gently probing.

Ari didn’t respond right away, her eyes dropping to the floor as she nervously fidgeted with her sleeves.

“Are you okay?” Cyn asked again, more quietly this time, taking a small step closer.

Ari bit her lip, the flood of emotions threatening to spill over. She shook her head slightly, still unwilling to meet Cyn’s gaze.

“I… I don’t want to talk about it,” she whispered, trying to hold back the tears.

Cynthia paused, her face a mask of concern. She reached for Ari’s hand, her touch tender but insistent.

“Ari, you don’t have to say anything if you’re not ready. But you know you can talk to me, right?” Cyn said softly, her voice filled with the quiet reassurance that always grounded Ariana.

Ari’s breath hitched, and she finally let her gaze lift, locking eyes with Cynthia. It was only then that she saw the worry in Cyn’s expression.

But she still couldn’t bring herself to speak. Instead, she swallowed hard, nodding slightly, hoping it would be enough.

Cynthia seemed to sense the weight Ari was carrying, but she didn’t push her.

“Okay,” she said quietly, her thumb brushing lightly across Ari’s hand. “But I’m here when you’re ready.”

Ari blinked rapidly, swallowing the lump in her throat. She pulled her hand away gently, her mind still struggling to process everything.

“I just…” She trailed off, her voice cracking. “I don’t know how to deal with this. It’s not what I wanted. None of it.”

Cynthia’s heart clenched. She wanted to pull Ari into her arms, comfort her, but she also didn’t want to push her too much.

Instead, she settled for staying close, letting Ari breathe, waiting for her to find her way back to the words she needed. Ariana wiped her eyes hastily, realizing the tears had started to fall. She quickly grabbed the sleeve of her hoodie, trying to hide her face. But Cynthia could see it. The pain. The vulnerability Ari was trying so hard to mask.

“Ari,” Cynthia said softly, her voice almost breaking. “You don’t have to hide from me. Not here. Not now.”

Ari couldn’t keep it in anymore. She let out a choked sob, her shoulders trembling as she collapsed against Cynthia. Cynthia didn’t hesitate—she pulled her into a tight embrace, letting her cry into her shoulder, knowing that sometimes the only thing she could do was hold her.

Ari’s sobs were muffled against her, but Cynthia could feel the weight of them. Feel the way they seemed to carry all the stress, the pressure, and the fear that Ariana hadn’t been able to express.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Cyn whispered, rubbing Ari’s back gently. “I’ve got you, baby.”

And for that moment, nothing else mattered. Just the two of them, tangled up in the quiet comfort of the other’s presence.

The room was quieter now, only the soft hum of the air conditioning could be heard. Ariana was still nestled in Cynthia’s arms, her head resting against her shoulder as she tried to collect her thoughts. The weight of the morning’s events—the meeting with her manager and the flood of emotions she had been holding in—had finally caught up with her. She had been fighting it all day, but now, with Cynthia’s gentle support, it felt like it was all spilling out.

“I’m sorry,” Ari mumbled again, her voice still thick with emotion. “I should have told you. I shouldn’t have tried to handle it alone.”

Cynthia’s hands were soft as they stroked through her hair, her presence grounding Ari in the chaos of her mind. “You don’t have to apologize for that, love. I know you’re under a lot of pressure. You’ve been juggling a lot lately. But, tell me, what happened in the meeting?” Cynthia asked, her voice calm and steady.

Ari shifted slightly, pulling away just enough to look into Cynthia’s eyes. She swallowed, gathering the courage to explain what had happened in the meeting with her manager.

“It was… I don’t even know how to explain it,” Ariana began, her fingers nervously playing with the hem of her sleeve. “My manager was upset about the things I’ve been saying in interviews. About the break I’m planning to take, about how I don’t want to go back to that constant grind of music and touring… They just… they don’t understand. They don’t see why I need a break, Cyn. And it’s like they think I’m being ungrateful.”

Cynthia’s brow furrowed slightly as she listened, her heart heavy with the weight of Ari’s words. She had seen how much Ariana had been struggling lately, and it wasn’t hard to imagine how it must feel to have her own team, the people who were supposed to be her support, pushing back against her needs.

“I didn’t mean to upset them, I just…” Ariana trailed off, her voice cracking with the vulnerability she hadn’t allowed herself to show until now. “I just want to feel… free again. I want to reconnect with what makes me happy. But they keep telling me to keep pushing, keep working, and I just… I don’t know how much more I can give.”

Cynthia’s fingers tightened gently on Ari’s hand, offering her silent support as Ari spoke. She could hear the exhaustion in her voice, the weariness that had built up over the past few years. It wasn’t just the music; it was everything—the demands, the expectations, the pressure to constantly perform. Cynthia had witnessed the toll it had taken on her, and she understood how hard it must have been to stand up for herself in that meeting.

“You don’t have to do it all alone, love,” Cynthia said softly, her voice laced with warmth. “But I know how hard it must have been. Especially after everything… with us.”

Ari’s breath hitched at the reminder. She had been avoiding it—avoiding the fight they’d had, the words they’d said—but the tension was still there, simmering beneath the surface. She hadn’t known how to approach Cynthia after their argument, and now, all the guilt she had been carrying came rushing back.

“I didn’t know how to talk to you after everything, Cyn,” Ariana admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I felt so… lost. Like, we’d fought, and I didn’t want to make things worse. I didn’t want to burden you with my mess when we were already at odds.”

Cynthia’s expression softened, her thumb brushing over Ari’s cheek. “Ari, you could never burden me. I’m here for you, no matter what. I know we’ve had our disagreements, but that doesn’t change how much I care about you. You don’t have to face any of this alone.”

Ari looked up, meeting Cynthia’s gaze. “I was scared you wouldn’t understand,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I thought maybe you’d be disappointed in me for wanting a break. Or worse, that I wasn’t being enough. Like I wasn’t doing enough, or being enough for you.”

Cynthia gently cupped her face, her thumb swiping across Ari’s lips as she spoke softly but firmly. “You don’t need to prove anything to me, love. You’re enough, just as you are. You don’t owe anyone anything, least of all me. I just want you to be happy, and I want to be here to help you get there, however you need.”

Ari’s chest tightened, but the weight felt different now, lighter, like a burden had been shared. “I just don’t know where to go from here, Cyn. I’ve been trying so hard to keep it all together, and now… I don’t even know what the next step is.”

Cynthia held her gaze for a moment before pulling her close again, wrapping her arms around her. “We’ll figure it out together. You don’t have to have all the answers right now. One step at a time, okay? I’m right here with you.”