crawling back to you.

They had landed in Atlanta earlier that day. Their performance was tomorrow. And Daniela had never been more nervous in her life.

She had texted her father to let him know they’d arrived, but hours later, there was still no reply. Not that she had expected one. He was probably busy—or at least, that’s what she told herself. It was easier than admitting the gnawing truth: that his silence still had the power to unsettle her, that a part of her was still waiting for something from him. A response. A word of encouragement. Anything.

But she would see him soon enough at the performance.

For now, she and the girls were on their way to some industry party—an opportunity to “socialize and network with the pop music scene,” as their manager had put it. Dani would have much rather spent the evening rehearsing, drowning her nerves in repetition, perfecting every note and movement until there was no space left for doubt. But instead, she was here, gripping the steering wheel as they wove through the city, tension coiled tight in her shoulders.

Manon sat beside her, scrolling through her phone, while Megan was in the backseat. Lara had taken the other car with Sophia.

Dani flicked her gaze to the rear-view mirror, just for a second, just to check on Megan. A quiet habit she hadn’t even realized she’d developed.

Megan had made a surprisingly quick recovery from her mysterious illness the other day and seemed to be a lot more lively. Tonight, she looked more like herself. More alive. Relief settled in Dani’s chest at the sight of her sitting up, eyes bright, her usual energy returning. Megan was like that—effortlessly radiant, a light that filled whatever space she was in. When she was dimmed, it felt wrong. Thinking about this reminded her of their conversation the other night when Megan had mentioned to her that people had been mean to her in the past, outcasted her as ‘weird’, her ex-boyfriend, Caleb, being at the centre of it. She’d met Caleb once, towards the end of his and Megan’s relationship and she got a bad vibe. What Megan had said had certified that he was a dick. 

As if sensing the glance, Megan looked up and met Dani’s eyes in the mirror. A small, knowing smile curved her lips, warm and familiar.

Dani felt herself smile back before she could think better of it. Then, quickly, she returned her focus to the road. They had almost arrived.

✰✩✩✩✩✩

The party was loud . Voices overlapped in a constant hum, broken only by bursts of laughter and the occasional drunken shout. Daniela scanned the room, already certain Sophia was thriving in the chaos. Music pulsed through the speakers, the bass thrumming in her chest, and the sharp tang of alcohol clung to the air.

By the bar, Lara leaned against the counter, her body language unmistakable—flirting, of course. Daniela rolled her eyes, unsurprised.

Then, her gaze landed on Sophia. And, just as expected, there she was—center stage, animated as ever, commanding the attention of an eager group. But it wasn’t Sophia who caught Daniela’s interest. It was Manon. Silent, observant, practically tethered to Sophia’s side, eyes fixed on her as if she were the only person in the room.

Huh. That was… something. Daniela wasn’t sure what yet, but it tugged at her curiosity. 

The only person her eyes couldn’t find was Megan. Yoonchae stayed back at the hotel because she was underage. At seventeen, she had no place in the haze of alcohol and exhaustion that came with nights like these. If she was here, Daniela thought fondly, she’d probably be curled up in a corner, fast asleep, oblivious to the chaos around her. When she was asleep Dani was reminded that she was so young . Daniela was relieved she was resting, tucked away safely with their team. The industry demanded so much of her already—she deserved at least this. 

“…So anyway, I told him to fuck off.”

The voice beside her kept going, aimed directly at her, Dani nodded along but her mind was already elsewhere. Where was Megan? She could spot the rest of the girls but couldn’t see Megan.

“Sorry, excuse me for a second.”

She flashed a polite smile at the woman next to her, then rose from the couch, weaving her way through the crowded party in search of a familiar flash of ginger hair. She was so intent on her task that she didn’t see the tall figure in her path until she collided with them, the liquid in their glass sloshing over the rim.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” Dani blurted, looking up—only to find a pair of familiar eyes staring back at her.

“Daniela?” The disbelief in his voice was unmistakable.

Her own surprise mirrored his. “Miles?”

Although, really, she should have expected to run into someone she knew in her hometown. Then again she hardly expected it to be the guy she used to hook up with. Someone she hadn’t thought about in years. Or, at least, had tried not to.

"What—what are you doing here?"

Miles recovered quickly, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I’m in the music scene now. Producing a few things here and there," he said, his gaze sweeping over her. Daniela felt the heat of it and instinctively adjusted the strap of her dress.

"I don’t have to ask what you’re doing here. Big pop star now, huh?"

"Something like that," she said, a light chuckle escaping her. But there was an awkwardness beneath it, an unease she couldn't quite shake.

Miles grinned, eyes still drinking her in. "Lemme get you a drink," he offered, stepping closer.

Daniela tensed. "No, that’s alright. I don’t really drink anym—I mean, I’m not drinking tonight." The words came out uneven, like she was fumbling to find her footing. Truth was, she didn’t know how to talk to Miles. Not anymore. Not after the way things ended.

Miles let out a dramatic gasp. "No way. The Daniela I knew a couple years ago would never have stooped this low."

Daniela rolled her eyes. "Well, I’m a changed woman."

Miles leaned in, close enough that his breath brushed her ear. "Look the same to me. Maybe even hotter."

She shoved his chest lightly, scoffing at his lousy attempt at flirting. "Yeah, that is not happening."

But Miles, cocky as ever, barely missed a beat. "You’ve said that before," he murmured, his smirk widening. "I don’t know, Dani… it could be like old times."

Old times.

Daniela swallowed. She wasn’t sure if that was a promise or a warning. A girl slid up beside Miles, all long legs and a perfectly tamed afro. For a moment, Daniela almost didn’t recognize her.

“Daniela!” Zaya squealed, her excitement cutting through the noise. “So good to see you! Are you in town for a show?”

Daniela smiled easily at Zaya. “Yeah, just for the weekend. We’ve got a show and some signings.”

Zaya had always been kind—too kind, maybe, for someone who so often found herself tangled up with the wrong people. Exhibit A: Miles. She’d been the closest thing Daniela had to a friend growing up, which, in hindsight, only made the loneliness of those years more glaring. It had always just been her and her parents. Family and dancing always come first Daniela, her father would say. There had never been time for friends, boyfriends. Never space for distractions. He had made sure of that.

But glancing up at Zaya and Miles right now she did wonder how many people from her past was she going to run into while she was here?

Zaya regarded Daniela as though a sudden thought had just struck her, tilting her head with a sympathetic glint in her eye. “Wait—have you seen your dad yet?”

Daniela froze, her breath catching for just a second before she forced herself to exhale evenly. “No,” she said, voice measured. “I’m seeing him tomorrow. Why?”

“From what I remember he was a dick—he was awful to you,” Zaya replied with a dismissive scoff.

Miles let out a low chuckle, though there was no real humour in it. “Yeah, I mean, he beat the shit out of me that one time when he caught us hooking up.” At his words, pain and a searing anger flared within Daniela; bitter memories rose unbidden, bubbling just beneath the surface until they threatened to boil over. The weight of old wounds pressed down on her, thoughts from her past surfacing like a tide she couldn’t control. She turned on them, her voice slicing through the air like a blade.

“Shut the fuck up,” she snapped, her words low and laced with warning. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Whoa, I just meant—I’m glad you got away from him, Daniela. I didn’t mean—”

“How about you stop talking,” Daniela snapped, stepping closer and fixing Zaya with a stare that brooked no argument.

Miles’s smirk was both playful and infuriating. “Would you look at that—the real Daniela’s finally come out to play.” Whether intentional or not, his words pricked at the raw edges of her hurt.

“Oh, fuck you—” Dani started on Miles, but before her retort could escalate, she felt a steady hand wrap around her waist and gently pull her back.

“Hey, guys,” Lara interjected softly at her side, “How about we take a breather? Come on, Dani.”

Lara forced a smile at the unfamiliar faces gathered around and Daniela allowed herself to be led to a quiet table, though the embers of anger still smouldered within her.

Once seated, Lara’s voice lowered urgently in a conspiratorial whisper. “What the fuck was that? We were supposed to keep it lowkey!”

“Nothing—it’s fine,” Daniela murmured, pressing her eyes shut as if to shut out the painful memories.

“Right, sure,” Lara replied sceptically. Before Lara could add more, Daniela met her gaze with a steely, unyielding look. “Look, Lara—just drop it, please.”

Lara’s worried eyes lingered on her friend, but she wisely refrained from further pressing, no good would come of that. Not with Dani.

“Alright, do you wanna go back to the hotel? Cool off?” Lara suggested.

“No, no I’ll stay for a bit, before seeing those assholes I was actually having a good time,” Dani decided. Lara just nodded and didn’t move from her side. Daniela was suddenly struck with her task from earlier. The whole reason why she had run into Zaya and Miles in the first place is because she was finding Megan. “Wait, have you seen Megan?”

Lara blinked. “Megan?”

“Yeah, I just know she gets anxious at these things and wanted to check on her, I was looking for her earlier but got…distracted.”

Lara turned, scanning the party until she spotted a familiar head of ginger hair. “Oh—there,” Lara pointed with her cup over to the opposite side of the room. Across the room, Megan was pressed against a wall, a group of people around her, talking too loudly, too eagerly. Even from a distance, it was obvious—her shoulders tense, her hands fidgeting, Dani could tell Megan was not having a good time. She looked about 3 minutes from a panic attack. 

Daniela’s heart clenched.

“I’m taking her home,” she said, already shifting to go.

Lara glanced at her. “Are you sure? Didn’t you want to stay? I can take her if—”

“No, I’m actually pretty tired now,” Daniela said quickly, her gaze locked on Megan.

Lara frowned, confusion flickering across her face. Just a moment ago, Dani was set on staying. Now, she was suddenly tired? Before she could question it, Daniela cut in again.

“Besides, I know you need to finish flirting with the bartender.” A teasing smirk flickered across her lips, successfully diverting Lara’s attention.

Lara rolled her eyes. “I was not flirting.”

“Sure. And Manon’s as straight as a ruler,” Daniela deadpanned to which Lara muttered a ‘touchè’ under her breath. “It’s fine, Lara. Go get her number. I’ll see you back at the hotel.”

With that, she slipped away, her focus set entirely on Megan.

Similar to how Lara had slid up to her, Daniela snaked a hand around Megan’s waist when she got to her. 

“Hey,” Dani whispered, and the moment Megan recognized her voice, the tension in her shoulders eased.

“Hi,” Megan sighed tiredly, practically melting into Dani’s side. 

“I’ve come to save you,” Daniela announced with a soft smile.

“My knight in shining armour,” Megan responded sarcastically. 

“Well yeah my dream charm being a shield isn’t just a coincidence you know,” Daniela teased in reply. Megan nudged her playfully, a smile tugging at her lips as the clamor of the party receded and her anxiety began to dissipate.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Daniela said, shifting her grip from Megan’s waist to hold her hand as she led them through the crowd.

“Thank God ,” Megan exclaimed behind Dani, her hand firmly in Daniela’s as they finally left the dreaded party behind.

✰✩✩✩✩✩

Daniela lay awake in the hotel room bed, Manon sprawled out next to her, lost in the kind of deep, undisturbed sleep that Daniela could only envy. She’d barely slept last night, too jittery, nerves stretched thin over the looming performance and, more than that, the certainty that her father would be there. The confirmation had come in a single text, simple yet heavy in its finality: I’ll be there.

Three words. That was all it took to unravel her.

It was enough to keep Dani up most of the night. She’d seen the message just as she climbed into bed after making sure Megan had gotten to her room safely. And then, sleep had become an impossible thing—hovering just out of reach no matter how many times she closed her eyes. Thoughts swirled, memories bleeding into one another, restless energy buzzing beneath her skin. It wasn’t until hours later, when Manon returned from the party and slipped into bed beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist, that Daniela had finally managed to drift off. Then, she jolted awake from a nightmare, the kind she couldn’t quite remember but still left a residue of unease clinging to her and couldn’t return to sleep. The past had a funny way of creeping back in when she least expected it—seeing Miles at the party, being back in her hometown, the inevitable meeting with her father. It was all stirring something deep and unsettled inside her, like sediment shaken loose from the bottom of a long-still river.

A sharp kick to her thigh snapped her out of her thoughts.

Manon shifted in her sleep, completely knocked out. Daniela exhaled, wishing she could slip into unconsciousness that easily. The others never seemed to have trouble sleeping either. Well, except for Megan.

Daniela thought of all the times she had found Megan lingering in the backyard late at night, drawn to the same spot by the railing where Daniela herself often stood when sleep refused to come. Or the quiet moments in the kitchen, the glow of a single light illuminating Megan’s profile as she cradled a mug of something warm, lost in thought. Daniela found herself wondering if Megan had slept well tonight. She hoped so. Megan was obviously drained from the party. 

Daniela’s gaze flickered to the clock on the wall. Sophia was probably up by now, which meant it was time to start the day. She sighed, already bracing herself for the inevitable task of waking Manon, who—if history was any indicator—would be groggy, grumpy, and dramatically resistant to leaving the comfort of the bed.

With one last glance at the ceiling, Daniela steeled herself for what was to come; the stage, the memories, and most of all, him.

✰✩✩✩✩✩

The dressing room buzzed with last-minute energy— makeup brushes swept across skin, the soft rustle of fabric as outfits were adjusted. The air was thick with the mingling scents of hairspray, makeup, and something sharper beneath it—the electric charge of anticipation.

Daniela stood near the mirror, adjusting the strap of her in-ear monitor, fingers trembling slightly. She forced herself to still them, inhaling through her nose. Just another show. Just another stage. That was the lie she told herself, as if tonight wasn’t different. As if the weight of the audience, of a particular pair of eyes in that audience, didn’t press down on her ribs.

As the others peeled away to make their final pre-show preparations, Megan lingered, her eyes tracking Daniela with quiet concern. She had seen the tension coiled in Daniela’s shoulders, the way she had barely spoken during warm-ups, how her fingers trembled slightly when adjusting her in-ear monitor. Daniela was good at hiding things—had probably spent years perfecting the art—but Megan had learned how to read the cracks.

“You good?” Megan’s voice was soft, barely cutting through the distant roar of the crowd.

Daniela stiffened at the question, then forced a nod. “Yeah. Fine.”

Megan didn’t buy it. She took a step closer, catching Daniela’s gaze. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

For a second, Daniela considered actually telling her, she willed herself to just speak what she was thinking that he was out there. That she knows it shouldn’t matter, that she shouldn’t care, but–  instead her throat tightened and she defaulted to easy deflection insisting it was nothing.

Megan’s eyes remained steady however and somehow knowing and she didn’t have to ask what had Daniela feeling this way, or who . And she didn’t force her to tell the truth.

Instead she reached out, fingers grazing Daniela’s wrist before curling around her hand, grounding her. “It’s okay to care,” she murmured. “It’s okay to be pissed, or nervous, or whatever else you’re feeling. But none of that gets to control what happens when we step on that stage. You do.”

Daniela swallowed. The words shouldn’t have meant as much as they did, but coming from Megan, they carried weight. She glanced down at their hands—Megan’s grip was steady, firm, something solid to hold onto. For a moment, the noise of the venue, the pressure, the memories—everything—faded into the background. There was just this. Just Megan’s hand in hers, her quiet, unwavering presence.

Daniela took a breath, then another. Some of the tightness in her chest loosened.

Megan squeezed her fingers. “We’ve got you, okay? You’re not doing this alone.”

Daniela nodded, the tension still there but not as suffocating. She gave Megan’s hand a quick squeeze back before letting go. “Thanks.”

Megan flashed a small, knowing smile. “Anytime.”

Then Sophia’s voice had them both turning around.

“Okay, guys, huddle up,” Sophia called, her voice cutting through the noise with its usual calm authority.

The room shifted around her as they gathered in a loose circle. Manon, still groggy but trying to shake it off, leaned into Yoonchae’s side. Lara bounced on the balls of her feet, rolling her shoulders like a fighter about to step into the ring. 

Daniela moved without thinking, stepping into place beside Megan. The familiarity of it grounded her. No matter what was waiting beyond the stage door, this part remained the same.

Sophia’s gaze swept over them, reading each of their expressions, their energy levels, their tells. “I know tonight’s a big one,” she said, voice steady. “But don’t let that mess with your heads. We’ve done this a hundred times before. The crowd is loud, the stage is ours, and whatever’s going on outside of this moment—” her eyes landed on Daniela for a second, just long enough for the message to register “—doesn’t exist. Not for the next sixty minutes.”

Daniela swallowed hard. She knew what Sophia meant. She didn’t know how Sophia had caught on exactly but she shouldn’t have been surprised. There was no hiding anything from Sophia. Maybe Sophia didn’t know exactly what was wrong but she still had an inkling something was up with Dani.

“And most of all, we’re going to have fun. This is what we do. This is what we love.” Sophia continued. 

A murmur of agreement rippled through the group. Megan reached out first, extending a hand into the middle. One by one, the others followed—Manon, Sophia, Lara, Yoonchae, Daniela last. Their hands stacked together, a silent pact sealed between them.

Sophia grinned. “Alright, let’s go.”

The roar of the crowd swelled as the stage door cracked open. Light spilled into the room, warm and blinding. Daniela took a breath, her heart hammering. Then, as one, they stepped forward onto the stage. 

✰✩✩✩✩✩

The stage felt like home. The energy of the crowd surged through Daniela like electricity, exhilarating and effortless. They had already breezed through a few songs, their movements synchronized, their harmonies sharp and clear. Every note, every beat—it all felt second nature.

Daniela let Manon spin her on stage and grinned at her best friend. There was no better feeling. Their bright smiles matched under the stage lights. This was what they were meant to do. They were made to perform.

And then she saw him.

The moment her eyes landed on her father in the crowd, everything fractured.

The music dulled to a distant hum, swallowed by the sharp, ringing buzz in her ears. The cheers, the flashing lights, the pulse of the bass—all of it faded into nothing. The stage, once her sanctuary, suddenly felt exposed, vast and suffocating all at once.

Her mind splintered, yanked backward into the past.

Again, his voice echoed in her head, cold and unyielding. Not good enough. Do it again.
She could still feel the burn in her limbs from hours of relentless training, the sharp bite of disappointment in his gaze whenever she failed to meet his impossible standards. She could hear the metronome ticking mercilessly, his voice demanding perfection, drilling it into her bones. There was no room for mistakes. There never had been.

Her stomach twisted violently.

Panic clawed at her chest, her breath suddenly too shallow, too fast. She could barely register the fact that her body was still moving, still performing, still caught in the rhythm she had trained herself to follow. But her mind was elsewhere—singled in on him.

And then—

She slipped.

Just a small misstep, a barely noticeable hesitation, but enough for her shoulder to clip Sophia’s as she turned the wrong way. The contact jolted her back to the present, the sound rushing back in all at once—the roar of the audience, the pounding of the beat of the song, the melody she had momentarily lost.

Shit.

Her father had seen that. She knew he had.

Sophia barely reacted, seamlessly adjusting as if nothing had happened. A professional. A performer. Get it together, Dani.

Daniela forced herself to fall back into formation, pushing the panic down, burying it deep where it couldn’t ruin her. She plastered a smile back on her face, but her pulse was erratic, her body stiff in a way it hadn’t been before. The stage no longer felt so safe.

And for the first time in a long time, Daniela was terrified of making a mistake. Daniela was 5 years old again, petrified to step out of line. 

✰✩✩✩✩✩

As soon as Daniela was off the stage, she stormed to the hair and make-up room. Her head was reeling. Her breaths were uneven and sharp as they left her. She had fucked up. She could feel it. That was one of her worst performances. And of course, it had to be the one in her hometown. The one in front of her dad. 

She yanked out her in ears and threw them onto the vanity in frustration, the plastic casing skidding across the desk. She heard the muffled sound of the door opening and the voices of the girls’ behind her but she couldn’t make out what they were saying over the high pitch ringing in her head.  

After a moment the sounds of the girls cheering behind her set in, clapping each other on the back, talking about how well they had performed. Daniela could only think she couldn't have done worse. 

She tensed when a warm hand wrapped gently around her forearm. She followed it up to meet Megan’s eyes—soft, imploring, brows drawn together in quiet concern like she somehow knew . Before Megan could say anything Daniela heard something she’d not heard in a while except for in her head. Her father’s voice. Her head whipped towards the sound. Her father stood at the door, tall and composed, exuding the same quiet authority he always had. Their manager must have led him backstage—because he was family.

“Mija,” he said, voice oozing with authority, “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” 

For a moment, Daniela couldn’t speak. Her mouth had gone dry, her thoughts sluggish, tangled. The room felt smaller, the air heavier. Her gaze was fixed on the man in front of her.

Finally, she managed to force out, “Girls, this is my dad.” She swallowed, her voice barely steady. “Papa, this is Sophia, Lara, Manon, Yoonchae, and Megan.”

Sophia, ever the extrovert, stepped forward without hesitation, beaming. “Oh my God, Mr. Avanzini, it’s so good to meet you!” She reached out to shake his hand, and Dani held her breath in anticipation but all he did was return her handshake and…smile. 

“So nice to meet you girls,” he said smoothly, charming, effortless. “Sorry it couldn’t have been sooner.” Then, with an easy grin, “You girls were great out there.”

You girls.

Not her . 

No, he wasn’t even looking at her.

Daniela’s stomach twisted, a slow, sinking weight settling in her chest.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to breathe past the sudden constriction in her throat. Her father had always been like this—distant in ways that felt intentional, withholding just enough to make her chase after his approval like a dog after a bone. She had spent years trying to earn his praise, his attention, and still, after everything, after tonight—nothing.

The girls, oblivious to the weight pressing down on her, responded easily. Manon grinned. “Thanks! That was an insane crowd.”

“Yeah,” Yoonchae added, glancing at Daniela. “Dani killed it out there.”

A sharp, bitter laugh almost escaped her, but she swallowed it down. Instead, she just nodded, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. Killed it. If only they knew. If only they’d seen the mistakes she had felt with every misstep, every wavering note. If only they realized how much worse it had been knowing he was watching.

Her father’s eyes flickered toward her then, sharp and unreadable. “It’s good to see you up there, mija.”

The words sounded kind, but something in his tone made her tense. The weight of unspoken expectations, of judgment disguised as casual observation, hung between them like a noose.

Daniela’s voice felt like sandpaper in her throat. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He hummed, glancing around at the others. “So, where are you girls celebrating? I’m sure you’ve got something planned.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Sophia, always quick to fill a gap, laughed. “We were thinking of heading to to get dinner and then…”

Sophia’s voice faded as Dani slipped deeper into her head. Megan’s hand found Daniela’s wrist again, grounding her. Just a small touch, light but steady. She hadn’t even realized she was shaking until then.

“Well,” her father said after a beat, clapping his hands together once. “I don’t want to keep you. I just wanted to stop by, say congratulations.” 

His gaze flickered to Daniela then, something unreadable in his expression. And when he spoke again, it was in Spanish—a deliberate choice, she realized, so the others wouldn’t understand what he said next.

“Qué fue eso? Sabes mejor que cometer errores, Necesita ser mejor que el mejor.” 

(What was that? You know better than to make stupid mistakes. You need to better than the best.)

Daniela froze. The words landed like a blow, knocking the air from her lungs.

Her mouth fell slack, but no response came. She could barely breathe, let alone speak.

“Estaré mejor,” she finally said, barely above a whisper. I’ll be better . She felt like a child again, small under the weight of his expectations

Her father nodded, but Daniela knew he wasn’t entirely  satisfied. He never was. 

Then, just as smoothly as he had cut her down, he turned back to the group, slipping into easy charm, “I was just saying to Daniela that we should catch up while she’s in town,” her dad lied through his teeth, “You all should definitely join us for dinner.”

There was a chorus of eager agreement amongst the girls, each of them oblivious to what had truly occurred. And with that, he turned and left as smoothly as he’d arrived. 

Daniela’s breath hitched and she turned, gripping the edge of the vanity, staring at her own reflection in the mirror. The ghost of her father’s presence lingered, coiling around her ribs, making it hard to shake the weight in her chest.

Maybe she should have been used to it by now. Used the words and his stare and his disappointment. Maybe she should have known better than to hope for more. For it to be different after their time apart. Some things never change. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, inhaled deep, tried to push it all down. But it was bubbling up—had been, all day. Something rotten spreading inside her, winding its way through her veins, thick and suffocating.

She felt sick. She felt like she was going to explode.

And before she even knew it, she was speaking.

“I fucked up,” Daniela said, her voice flat, empty.

The girls turned to her.

“What?” Sophia laughed lightly, assuming she was joking, oblivious to the tightness in Daniela’s shoulders, the sharp edge in her tone.

“I fucked up, I-I was shit out there, God ,” Daniela repeated, scoffing at herself as she ran her a hand through her curls, frustrated. 

All of her bandmates’ heads did a 180, faces painted with an incredulous expression.

“You’re joking right?” Lara almost laughed, “You were insane out there!”

“It wasn’t good enough,” Daniela snapped. It never was . She threw her hands in the air, the frustration spilling out unchecked. “I kept messing up—I literally almost ran Sophia off the stage—”

“Okay, dramatic,” Sophia cut in, rolling her eyes. “It was barely a bump. No one even noticed.”

“I did! Others must have!” Her voice pitched higher, fraying at the edges.

“Okay, okay, Dani, breathe,” Manon soothed, reaching out.

“Fuck! Don’t tell me to calm down Manon, you don’t get it!”

Something flickered in Manon’s expression, a split-second hesitation before she bit back. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She knew she shouldn’t have engaged, knew Daniela was spiralling, knew this was about her father somehow—but insecurity got the better of her, and the words slipped out before she could stop them.

Daniela didn’t hesitate. She went for the throat.

“It means you barely got up on time to be here. It means you don’t care about this. You never have.”

Daniela, horridly felt better with every spit of fire that left her, like the rot inside of her could finally be released. It was only brief though. Regret –deep, raw regret, set in as soon as she saw Manon’s downcast face. Manon, who was her best friend. Manon, who had held her through nights when she couldn’t sleep, who had whispered reassurances when doubt clawed its way in.

Manon who couldn’t look at Dani right now.

“Dani, that’s enough,” Sophia snapped, her voice sharp as a whip. “Why would you say that? What the hell is wrong with you?”

She crossed the room in an instant, standing by Manon’s side, slipping her hand into hers in an act of comfort.

Shame filled Dani’s gut. What was wrong with her?

“You’re acting crazy, what the hell brought this on?” Sophia continued. Manon and Megan shared a knowing glance, they had some idea, they just didn’t know how deep it ran.

“No- I don’t- I’m sorry- I didn’t mean-,” Daniela faltered, scrambling for something, anything, and Lara took pity on her. 

“It’s Yoonchae you should be apologising to,” Lara attempted to joke, “you scared the poor girl.”

This only increased Daniela’s guilt as her gaze snapped to  the youngest of them all, standing stiff, her arms slowly lowering from where they had been covering her ears during the yelling. Yoonchae hated it when it got too loud.

“Oh, Yoonchae,” Daniela breathed, voice thick with guilt. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Yoonchae shifted on her feet and gave a small smile, “It’s okay Dani. But… you really were amazing out there. I promise.”

Daniela couldn’t help but feel her chest ease a little and a smile, albeit small, found a way to her face with Yoonchae's earnesty.

Yoonchae brightened at that, continuing, “You work so hard. I mean, Megan literally faked sick just to get you to take a break.”

Daniela’s smile faltered in confusion and then it dropped entirely as she registered Yoonchae’s words. 

Megan’s heart sank. 

“You what?” Daniela’s voice was low, deadly quiet as she turned to Megan. 

Daniela was no longer sorry about hurting anyone’s feelings. 

Daniela was angry again. And the anger was burning white-hot.