That morning, the sunlight crept softly through Sunny's bedroom blinds, casting stripes of gold across the floor and the edge of the pullout couch where they lay tangled together.
It wasn't the penthouse this time.
They had decided — or maybe just fallen into — spending the night at Sunny's apartment. It was smaller, warmer in the summer, cluttered in charming ways. Mismatched mugs on the counter. Pencils and cords twisted together in baskets. The faint scent of lavender and fruit shampoo lingering in the air.
Her place was compact, but it had heart. It felt lived in — like someone had dreamed in every corner of it. And Zane, sprawled beside her under a thin blanket, thought that's exactly what she is. Small. Soft. Comfortable. Real. She was home.
Neither of them mentioned the interview right away.
The weight of the day lingered in the background, but it didn't press on them. They were too wrapped in the warmth of the morning. In each other.
Eventually, they shuffled into the bathroom, yawning and bumping into each other like sleepy puzzle pieces. The shower steamed quickly in the tiny room, filling it with a fog that made everything else — worries, questions, expectations — feel far away.
The water poured over them, and so did the familiarity. Touches that started as absentminded affection — a hand on the shoulder, fingers brushing wet hair aside — gradually deepened. Wandered.
Soft kisses became slower. Hungrier. They didn't speak. They didn't need to.
By the time they stepped out of the shower, damp towels half-secured, they were both breathless from laughing and stumbling toward the couch again. It was barely made from the night before, but they didn't care. They collapsed into each other, lips never parting.
Later, as Sunny grabbed a drink from the fridge, she barely had time to turn before Zane's arms wrapped around her again — and this time, she didn't even try to resist. The edge of the counter pressed into her hips as he kissed her neck, and the moment built from there. The dishes, still drying in the rack, rattled softly nearby.
They weren't trying to avoid the day.
They were just soaking in it — every breath, every laugh, every second. As if the world might shift later… and this, this, was the one thing they could hold on to.
By the time they actually got dressed, the clock had moved forward more than they expected. But neither of them seemed to care.
Zane looked at her — hair still damp, cheeks flushed, wearing one of his oversized shirts — and smiled.
"Ready?" he asked gently.
Sunny took his hand, their fingers intertwining effortlessly.
"Yeah," she said. "Whatever happens… we'll face it together."
And with that, they stepped into the day — not unafraid, but unwavering.
---
As per tradition, Axel was waiting outside the studio — one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other holding the keys to a sleek, black rental car that looked like it belonged in a music video rather than their actual lives. He twirled the keys once around his finger, eyeing the vehicle with a faint grimace.
"Too many zeros on the price tag," he muttered under his breath.
The passenger window rolled down with a mechanical whir.
Laura sat in the driver's seat, both hands on the wheel, posture stiff but focused. Her hair was pulled back today, neatly tucked behind her ears. She looked... poised. Almost like she belonged there. But Axel knew her well enough to catch the tightness in her jaw, the subtle way she kept adjusting her grip.
She hadn't driven since getting her license — hadn't needed to. Everything had always been within walking distance, and on the few occasions it wasn't, Axel had slipped on the "driver hat" with his usual quiet reliability. But this time, Laura had asked.
No — insisted.
"I want to try," she'd said that morning, calmly but firmly. "It's time."
He'd raised an eyebrow, then handed her the keys without protest. "Alright. But if it gets too overwhelming, we switch. No questions, no pressure."
Now, as he slid into the passenger seat, he gave her a playful look. "Still sure about this?"
She exhaled slowly, eyes forward. "Yeah. I'm ready."
"You're doing great already," he said, settling in and buckling up. "You even unlocked the doors and everything. Very advanced."
Laura rolled her eyes but didn't smile — not quite. Not yet. She tapped the start button and adjusted the mirrors, the quiet hum of the engine breaking the silence.
"I haven't driven in a while," she said, more to herself than him.
"I know," Axel replied gently. "But you're not the same person who got that license and then never used it."
That earned him a sideways glance. Her expression softened just slightly.
"No pressure," he added. "But if we crash, I am haunting this rental company."
This time, she did smile. Just a little.
She pulled the car into gear, rolled out onto the road, and for the first time in a long while, she took the lead — hands steady on the wheel, the city slowly unfurling in front of them.
---
The hum of the city slowly faded behind them, replaced by open roads and low hills as the car slipped onto the highway. Sunlight streamed through the windshield, catching glints in Laura's hair and casting a soft glow over Axel's face as he reclined in the passenger seat with a crooked grin.
"Okay," he said, stretching his arms dramatically. "New game. Song title chain."
Laura raised an eyebrow. "You're going to have to explain that."
"It's simple," Axel said, sitting up. "I say a song title. You have to say another title that starts with the last letter of mine. And we go back and forth until one of us crashes and burns. Got it?"
"Isn't that more your domain?" she teased.
"Technically, yes. But you're the one behind the wheel, boss. So drive and survive."
"Fine. You start."
He leaned his head back dramatically. "Bohemian Rhapsody."
Laura snorted. "You Belong with Me."
"Electric Love."
"Eleanor Rigby."
"Yellow Submarine."
They kept going, the rhythm easy and competitive, laughter bubbling between them as Axel playfully challenged her on obscure titles and she accused him of making names up. Sunny and Zane were following close behind in the car behind them, but it somehow felt like the four of them were already connected — even before the day truly began.
At one point, Axel rolled the window halfway down and shouted, "We're winning!" just to see if Zane would respond. He didn't — but he did snap a photo on his phone of Axel hanging halfway out the window like a kid on a field trip.
That photo would, of course, end up in Zane's "stolen moments" folder.
Meanwhile, Sunny — sitting with a little travel sketchbook propped against her knees — had been quietly sketching the scene. Laura's focused expression, the blur of trees, the tangled hair in the wind. She even got the soft curve of Axel's grin, mid-tease.
Just as Laura was catching her breath between turns in the game, a familiar melody began to fade in from the ambient roadtrip playlist. But it wasn't from the playlist at all — it was the radio.
They all knew the song within the first few bars.
Their song. The song. The one they'd performed together with Zane — their defining moment onstage, the one that marked a turning point not just in their music, but in their lives.
The car fell quiet. Not heavy. Just... still.
Laura's hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel. Her gaze remained on the road, but something shifted in her posture — contemplative, serious.
She let the song play for a few seconds longer, letting the memory settle in the car with them. Then, gently, she asked, "Do you feel prepared for the interview today?"
Axel glanced at her, recognizing the weight in her voice.
"And… what comes after?" she added, softer now. She didn't have to say it. They all knew what she meant — whether the contract would hold, whether Zane would stay. Whether this was the end of something… or the beginning.
The road stretched out before them — golden in the summer light — and for a moment, the future felt just as distant, just as uncertain.
But at least they were facing it together.
---
Zane sat in the backseat of the car, fingers drumming rhythmically against his thigh — not with a beat this time, but with restless energy. The city was inching closer now, glass towers rising on the horizon, and with them, the weight of what the day could bring.
He stared out the window, jaw tense. He had gone through every page of that damn contract — every clause, every vague promise, every cleverly veiled trap. He had highlighted and annotated, drawn arrows in the margins, even scribbled down questions for his manager. Sunny had curled up beside him on the couch that final day, scanning the fine print with a level of focus that stunned him. She didn't have to do that — but she did.
They both had fought for this. Quietly. Diligently. Desperately.
So surely… it had to count for something.
Zane exhaled slowly, trying to unclench his jaw. It has to.
The silence in the car stretched — calm, but not quite peaceful. Then he felt it.
A soft hand, sliding into his own.
He turned, and there she was. Sunny. In her loose summer cardigan, the hem brushing her knees, hair slightly tousled from the ride. She wasn't smiling, but her eyes were steady — clear, warm, sure. The same look she gave him before they stepped on stage. The same look she had when they kissed for the first time, hands in his hair.
A look that said: I'm here. I'm with you. And we'll be okay.
She didn't speak. She didn't need to.
Zane squeezed her hand, and swallowed the knot in his throat. That question still echoed in his chest — Right? — but it wasn't quite as loud now.
Because maybe… even if they didn't know how it would go… they weren't walking into it alone.
They'd face it together.
And that — that was something he'd never had before.
Something worth fighting for.
---
The car slowed to a stop outside the towering glass-and-steel building — sleek, modern, and just slightly over-designed. It was one of those glossy media spaces downtown, the kind with open-floor studios and glass-walled offices, where live interviews and PR events were held for agencies and artists alike. A camera crew was already stationed just past the revolving doors, their gear subtle but unmistakable. Inside, a makeshift studio had been arranged — lights, backdrops, water bottles pre-placed at the chairs. Professional, but with just enough intimacy to keep it personal.
Zane stared up at it through the window, unbothered. This wasn't a stage. Not in the way he knew them. There were no blinding spotlights, no ear-piercing fans — just questions. Cameras. Corporate smiles. He could handle this. Sunny, curled next to him, wore a soft expression — calm, at ease. She leaned her head against his shoulder and murmured, "We've been through worse."
Zane smirked. "Damn right."
Axel unbuckled his seatbelt and reached for the door handle. "Let's go win our freedom," he muttered under his breath with a dry chuckle.
But in the front seat, Laura hadn't moved.
She was sitting still, knuckles pale against the steering wheel, her breath shallow and quiet. Her gaze was fixed on the entrance of the building — but it wasn't just nerves. This wasn't just about public speaking or interviews.
It was the formality of it. The performance of poise. The kind of atmosphere she'd grown up in — where masks were expected and cracks were punishable.
Axel noticed instantly. He leaned over from the passanger seat and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"You okay?" he asked, voice soft but grounded.
Laura didn't answer right away. Her jaw flexed once, then again. "I just… hate being looked at like that," she said quietly. "Judged. Measured. It's not like the stage. I can't hide behind the music here."
Axel moved closer and pressed a kiss to her cheek — slow, deliberate.
"You don't have to hide anymore," he said against her skin. "Just be you."
She finally turned to look at him, and her expression cracked just a little — not into fear, but something softer. Vulnerable. Trusting.
"Okay," she breathed.
And it was. Because as long as he was there, she knew she'd be okay.
---
They hadn't even opened the doors before the chaos hit.
The moment the car pulled up, camera shutters clicked like distant thunder, and the flash of bulbs lit up the tinted windows. The journalists had been waiting — crouched behind parked cars, tucked behind barriers, stationed just out of frame. Like vultures catching the scent of something golden.
And golden it was. Euphony Trio, stepping out as one — Laura, Axel, and Sunny — followed by Zane, whose contract fate was now media catnip. The "mystery fourth" with the rising star. Will he stay or go? Will Euphony Trio lose their spark?
The questions came fast and loud as soon as the doors opened:
"Zane, is it true you're breaking contract for love?"
"Laura, how do you feel about today's verdict?"
"Is Sunny the reason for Zane's label dispute?"
Laura froze immediately. Her hand on the car door trembled, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. The swarm of voices, the flashes, the relentless movement—it was like her mother's galas but weaponized, no decorum, no etiquette. Just raw, public hunger.
Axel was out before her, circling to her side. Without a word, he reached out, found her hand, and gave it a small, grounding squeeze.
She flinched at first—but then met his eyes.
One nod was all she needed.
They started walking.
Zane stepped out last, unbothered, sunglasses already in place. He gave the crowd a sideways grin, that half-smirk of his that always made headlines. He didn't mind the cameras — if anything, he basked in them. The attention. The buzz. It was familiar. Safe, in a way only chaos could be for someone like him.
Sunny, already by his side, elbowed him gently. "Don't enjoy it too much, popstar," she teased, a small smile tugging at her lips.
"I'm not," he lied — and she rolled her eyes knowingly.
As they passed the crowd, the camera crew waiting just beyond the cordoned-off press area signaled them in. A clean-cut producer with a headset and clipboard waved them forward, speaking over the noise.
"Euphony Trio — and Zane — upstairs. You've got a greenroom to prep in. Interview starts in twenty."
He didn't wait for a response, just gestured toward the glass doors.
They slipped inside, and the moment they crossed the threshold, it was like entering another world — quieter, but no less tense. Lights, makeup stations, racks of spare clothes, and a few production assistants milling around.
The doors slid shut behind them.
Outside, the journalists kept shouting.
But in here — it was time.
---
In the greenroom, the tension hung just beneath the surface. While the stylists offered touch-ups and production assistants checked mics, Laura had pulled out her laptop — and not for fun.
A massive spreadsheet covered the screen.
Rows. Columns. Color-coded tabs. Topic trees. Sub-categories of sub-categories. It was a full-blown interview flow chart, with predictions, counter-questions, and notes on tone and delivery.
Sunny leaned over first, blinking at the sheer density of it. "Wait—wait—did you actually use conditional formatting?" she asked, pointing at the red-to-green gradient in the 'Public Risk' column.
Zane, lounging with a drink in hand, chuckled. "You prepping for an exam?" he teased. "We're not applying to grad school — it's a fifteen-minute interview."
Laura didn't even flinch. "That's exactly what they want you to think," she replied flatly, scrolling to another sheet. "And then someone throws a curveball about artist integrity or youth influence ethics, and you fumble your way into becoming a viral 'cringe clip' for the next three weeks."
Zane blinked. "...Damn. Okay."
Sunny giggled, then squinted as she caught a particularly specific line. "Wait—'Q24: In light of recent legislation around AI-generated vocals and synthetic licensing... how do you plan to maintain vocal authenticity without alienating digital-era audiences'?" Her eyebrows rose. "Who do you think is even gonna ask that?"
Laura didn't look up. "Probably no one," she said. "But if they do, I'll be ready."
Zane shot her a mock look of horror. "You're terrifying."
Laura gave him the faintest smirk. "You're welcome."
Sunny grinned at the two of them, then nudged Laura's shoulder gently. "Well... if nothing else, we know who's carrying the team."
"Damn right I am," Laura muttered, eyes still glued to her screen. "But I wouldn't mind if one of you studied the segment on deflecting contract inquiries without legal implications. Just in case."
Zane groaned. "I'm gonna get roasted, aren't I."
"Absolutely," she said.
Sunny patted his arm. "Don't worry. I brought snacks."
The room exhaled into a small, shared laugh. Even Laura, despite the high-stakes energy, allowed herself a tiny smile. Because truth be told — she didn't need them to memorize the spreadsheet.
She just needed to know they had her back.
---
The lights dimmed slightly as the opening segment rolled. A gentle hum of anticipation buzzed through the studio — the audience clapping on cue, cameras sweeping across the stage as the host, poised and polished, welcomed viewers both live and streaming worldwide.
"And now… the moment you've all been waiting for," the interviewer smiled, her voice calm but brimming with energy. "Please welcome the heart of Euphony Trio — Axel, Laura, and Sunny — and their newest collaborator, Zane!"
A round of applause erupted. Flashbulbs went off like a quiet storm. The four of them stepped onto the stage as a single unit.
Four chairs waited under the spotlight.
Zane and Axel instinctively settled into the two center seats — natural, magnetic, both accustomed to the attention. Laura took the far left, and Sunny the far right. It was a subtle formation — but to Laura, it was perfect. Balanced. Strong. Each of them distinct, yet bound together.
She straightened her back.
One hour. That's all this was.
Forty minutes of curated, controlled questions. Then a twenty-minute Q&A from the audience. She could survive that. She had planned for that. And more importantly — she wasn't alone.
Her gaze flickered across the row of chairs.
Zane exhaled slowly, his jaw shifting just slightly — not from fear, but from calculated focus. The contract situation was out in the open now. The press had run wild with it recently, speculating whether he'd leave return to Osaka or cut ties with the label. But he didn't look rattled. If anything, Laura could tell he was ready. Poised for whatever they'd throw.
Sunny, on the other hand, fidgeted with her sleeve. Her nerves showed in tiny ways — the way she glanced toward the crowd but then quickly looked down, or how her fingers kept adjusting the hem of her dress. Laura's eyes softened. Of all of them, Sunny had the most delicate heart. But when Zane turned his head and gave her a small, lopsided grin, Sunny immediately eased. She smiled back — like the only person in the room was him.
And Axel?
Laura allowed herself the faintest smile.
Axel sat calmly, one leg crossed, hands folded loosely. Not a trace of discomfort. Not a single flicker of tension. He'd always been this way — unshakable. Not because he was indifferent, but because he grounded himself so thoroughly in who he was. There was nothing scandalous the media could dig up. Nothing they could weaponize. He was, as always… fine.
The host turned back to them, signaling the beginning.
"So!" she chirped, leaning forward with a practiced gleam in her eye. "Thank you four for being here today. This is a very special moment for your fans, and for the industry. Euphony Trio — and Zane — you've captured a lot of hearts this year. But you've also raised a lot of questions."
She paused for effect.
"Let's start with the easy ones," she smiled. "How did this collaboration come to be? And what's it really like… working so closely together?"
Laura inhaled slowly.
Here we go.
She folded her hands over her knee, her expression measured.
They could do this. They had already lived the hard parts — this was just the story afterward.
---
Axel leaned forward slightly, the stage lights catching the edge of his profile. His tone was calm, almost casual — the kind that settled the room.
"Well…" he started, glancing toward Zane briefly, "Zane and I actually go way back. We met in high school. I was a senior, he was a freshman — loud, flashy, impossible to miss."
A few chuckles from the audience. Even the host smiled.
"But he had talent," Axel continued, "and heart. Even back then, I could tell. We ended up performing together a few times — school events, random local gigs, that sort of thing. I kind of… kept an eye on him after that."
Zane turned his head, watching Axel now with something between fondness and surprise. Like hearing a memory you didn't know meant something to someone else.
"And when Euphony Trio started looking for a collaborator for our up-coming project," Axel went on, voice steady, "he was the first person I thought of. No hesitation."
He shrugged, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"And it wasn't just about the music," Axel added, this time more sincerely. "It was about trust. We knew what kind of pressure we'd be under. I needed someone I believed in — not just professionally, but personally. Zane fit both."
Zane's lips tugged into a small, almost bashful smile. He shook his head, amused, and bumped his shoulder lightly against Axel's.
"Man, you're gonna make me cry on TV," he muttered with a soft grin.
The crowd laughed — but beneath the humor was something unspoken. Gratitude. Respect. A connection that hadn't just been rekindled, but deepened.
Laura, watching from her seat, felt the corner of her mouth lift. Sunny rested her chin against her hand, her eyes on Zane, admiration obvious.
The host beamed. "Well, if that's how you answer the easy ones," she said playfully, "I can't wait to see how you handle the hard stuff."
They all smiled — even Laura.
They were ready.
---
The host glanced down at her cards and smiled. "Let's talk about the collaboration process a bit. What was it really like… working so closely together?"
Laura exhaled, almost smiling, and adjusted her mic. "Well," she began carefully, "we had some… differences in vision at first. Especially Zane and I."
Zane raised his brows and smirked. "Oh? Is that so?"
Laura didn't even flinch. "Yes. You were a handful."
That earned a laugh from the audience — and a pointed side-glance from Zane, who put a hand over his heart in mock offense.
"I had structure," Laura explained, "schedules, spreadsheets… plans. He had…" she waved vaguely, "spontaneity. Vibes."
"That's called artistry," Zane quipped.
"That's called chaos," Laura deadpanned — but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her fondness.
The crowd chuckled again.
"But," she added, "eventually, we found a rhythm. We started listening to each other. Really listening."
Axel nodded, folding his hands in his lap. "Yeah. Over time, we grew into something solid."
"A family," Sunny chimed in softly, her smile warm and genuine.
Zane blinked, caught off guard for a moment by the word. He glanced down, nudged Sunny gently in the ribs. "Guys…"
More laughter from the audience, but there was a real tenderness behind it.
The host let the moment settle before moving on. "Who would you say is the least punctual in the group?"
All four heads turned to Zane without hesitation.
"Okay, rude," he said, laughing. "But… fair."
"I once had to call him five times just to make sure he left the house," Laura added, flipping her notes with mock disdain.
"I was mentally preparing," Zane defended.
Axel raised a hand. "I rest my case."
Another wave of laughter.
From there, the questions took on a smoother rhythm.
"How did you divide your roles in songwriting?"
Laura stepped in easily, handling the more technical details — talking about melodic structure, arrangement phases, creative workflow.
Sunny leaned in next. "We'd often start together with a sound or image in mind. Sometimes I'd draw something while the guys worked out harmonies. That helped."
"And other times," Axel added, "Zane would walk in with a half-sung voice memo and say 'Just trust me.' And we usually did. Somehow it worked."
A pause. The mood lightened, warm and nostalgic.
Then the host set her cards down gently and looked toward Zane.
"And now," she said, her voice shifting into something quieter — more direct — "Zane."
The room fell still.
She continued. "What does the future look like for you?"
Zane inhaled slowly. He had known this was coming. It was the question. The one everyone — the agency, the fans, the press, his group — had been holding their breath for.
He glanced at Sunny. She gave his hand a small squeeze.
Then he turned back toward the camera and leaned forward just slightly, voice level and clear.
"Well…" he began, "I used to think that the future had to be big. Loud. Filled with headlines and sold-out arenas. But lately, I've realized something."
A beat.
"The best moments I've had… weren't flashy. They were real. Quiet. Like writing songs on Sunny's floor at 2 a.m. Or messing up the harmony and watching Laura glare at me. Or hearing Axel hum something under his breath that just clicked."
The crowd was quiet now. Listening.
"I still don't know how this contract thing will end," Zane admitted. "I hope it ends in our favor. I hope I can stay here. With them. But whatever happens… I'm not chasing fame anymore."
He turned, eyes sweeping across his bandmates.
"I'm chasing music. The kind that makes people feel seen. The kind we make together."
A pause. Then softly: "That's the future I want."
The audience broke into applause — some standing. Cameras flashed.
And onstage, the four of them exchanged quiet glances — not with fear, but with a sense of shared pride.
Whatever came next… they had already won something bigger.
---
The questions continued, smoothly rolling between light banter and more thoughtful reflections. But eventually, the interviewer turned slightly in her seat, her gaze shifting toward the rows of audience members seated beyond the camera crew.
"Well," she smiled, "you've heard plenty from me. Let's open the floor to the audience."
Laura subtly checked her watch. Forty minutes. Right on cue. She exhaled through her nose — only twenty minutes to go. Her hands, which had been folded neatly in her lap, flexed just slightly before she clasped them again. They were almost through it.
A staff member with a mic weaved through the crowd, pausing when a young woman with a bob haircut raised her hand enthusiastically.
"This one's for Laura," the girl said, her voice a little nervous. "What's the biggest thing you've learned from this collaboration — like, personally?"
Laura blinked. It was a simple question, yet oddly… intimate. She adjusted the mic and considered her words carefully.
"That structure and perfection aren't everything," she said at last. "That sometimes… messiness has value. That vulnerability can be a strength in music — and in life." Her voice softened. "And that growth doesn't mean letting go of who you were. It just means letting yourself evolve."
Applause.
The mic moved again. A boy in a hoodie spoke next. "Sunny, your visual art style has changed a lot since the last project. Was that intentional?"
Sunny nodded, a little shyly. "Yeah. I think working with everyone challenged me in good ways. I wanted the visuals to reflect the rawness of our sound — especially for the final duet. So I leaned into something more expressive, less polished. It's not perfect. But it's… honest."
Zane beamed at her. "She nailed it, though. She always does."
Another laugh from the crowd.
A woman in her forties stood up next. "Axel," she said, "you always seem so grounded. What keeps you centered with all the chaos around you?"
Axel scratched the back of his head. "Uh… probably tea. And Laura." He gave a slight grin. "In that order."
Laura rolled her eyes, but didn't argue.
"I think it helps," Axel continued, "when you've known where you came from. When you've had years of making music just for the love of it. All this?" He gestured around them. "It's great. But the real joy is still in the rehearsal room. In the small stuff."
Then came a teenage fan who shyly asked Zane: "I know it wasn't long ago, but if you could give advice to your younger self — the one who first signed that contract — what would you say?"
Zane leaned forward again. "Don't sign it," he joked first, earning some laughter. Then more seriously: "I'd say… don't be afraid to ask for help. And don't measure your worth by how loud the applause is. You'll figure it out, eventually."
He glanced sideways, where Sunny met his eyes and offered a smile.
More questions followed — some silly, some insightful. A girl asked Sunny to draw her favorite scene from working on the project. A boy dared Axel to beatbox (which he did, poorly, earning groans and giggles). One older man asked Laura to name her favorite chord progression, which led to a wildly technical explanation the others only half-understood — but admired anyway.
And all the while, Laura tracked the time. Minute by minute.
Seventeen minutes.
Then twelve.
Then seven.
Almost there.
They were almost through the interview… but not quite done.
Because the last question — the final one — would come from someone they didn't expect.And it would shift the room all over again.But for now, they were together. Laughing, steady, seen.
And the countdown continued.
---
But then… the final question came.
A new hand rose in the audience. Slower, more poised than the others. A woman in her mid-to-late 50s, dressed in a sleek cream blazer and tasteful jewelry. The kind of person who didn't raise her hand unless she knew she'd be called on.
And she was.
The mic was passed into her manicured hand, and as she stood, Axel's posture stiffened.
Zane, seated beside him, noticed the sudden shift in energy — the subtle clench of Axel's jaw, the way his foot had stopped tapping and now pressed firmly into the floor. Laura picked up on it too, brow furrowing as she followed his gaze toward the woman now standing.
There was something eerily familiar about her, though Laura couldn't quite place it. Her presence… wasn't like the rest of the crowd. It was calculated. Too composed. Too deliberate.
Axel, however, remembered.
He didn't know her name. But he knew her voice. Her tone. Her proximity.
She was one of his mother's… acquaintances. The kind that only showed up when things were going wrong. The kind that offered condolences like gossip, and always, always knew more than they should.
What the hell was she doing here?
Laura glanced sideways at him, confused at first — until she saw how his shoulders had tensed, how his hands rested like stone on his lap. She didn't say anything. She just quietly slid her hand over his, her thumb lightly brushing over his knuckles in silent support.
Axel didn't look at her. But he felt her. And slowly, he exhaled.
The woman cleared her throat delicately and lifted the mic to her lips. "This question is for Axel," she said, her voice calm but too pointed. "Many of us remember the story… from just a few months ago. About the house. The one you inherited after your father's passing."
The room grew very still.
She smiled, just faintly. "There were rumors you went back there not long ago. Alone. Care to share what that visit meant to you? And… why you didn't bring your partner with you?"
The air changed.
The interviewer blinked, slightly startled — clearly caught off-guard by the personal nature of the question.
Axel's heart pounded in his ears. He didn't move. Didn't speak. Not right away.
Zane looked at him, genuinely unsure if Axel was about to walk off stage.
Laura's hand tightened gently on his.
"I didn't know," she whispered under her breath, low enough for only him to hear. Not accusing. Just quietly trying to understand.
The silence stretched. Too long. The producer behind the camera was starting to look antsy.
Finally, Axel leaned forward into his mic.
"I went alone because it was something I needed to face alone," he said, his voice even, though strained. "The house… wasn't home. It was a place full of silence, and ghosts."
His eyes flickered toward Laura then.
"And I didn't tell anyone because I wasn't ready to share it yet. Not even with her. But… she knows now." He glanced down at her hand still folded over his. "And that's what matters."
The woman didn't say anything else. She just nodded — like that answer was enough for her. Or like she had gotten what she came for.
The mic moved on, but the air hadn't quite settled. Zane gave Axel a brief clap on the back — his quiet way of saying you handled that. Sunny looked between them all, brows drawn slightly, but sensing it wasn't the time to pry.
The interviewer cleared her throat. "Well. That was… honest. Thank you."
And with that, the interview wrapped.
But Laura… didn't let go of his hand.Not when the cameras stopped.Not when the lights dimmed.Not when they stood up.
She didn't ask for more. She simply stood beside him. Like she always had.
---
And when it was finally over — the interview, the questions, the flashing lights, the sea of voices and cameras outside — they made their way back to the car through the chaos, ushered along by a production assistant and guarded by Axel's quiet urgency. They had survived the storm.
Fans had gathered out front. Paparazzi swarmed from every angle, some shouting questions, others just clicking shutters at rapid speed. Zane gave his signature grin, tossing a wink over his shoulder like the chaos didn't faze him. Sunny tugged him forward by the hand, just enough to keep him grounded.
Laura kept her eyes on the ground, moving fast, lips tight. Axel was right at her side, hand gently placed against the small of her back as they pushed through. When they finally reached the car, it felt like a door had been shut on the world.
The soundproofed interior swallowed everything.
Axel moved around to the driver's seat, unlocking the doors with a soft click. Laura hesitated by the passenger side, her hand lingering on the car handle. She could feel the exhaustion beginning to crash down — a slow, weighty tide.
"You good?" Axel asked softly, already climbing in.
She nodded. "I can drive if you want—"
"No," he interrupted gently, meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror. "You got us here. Let me take us home."
That one word — home — settled something warm in her chest.
Without protest, she sank into the passenger seat. As she clicked the seatbelt into place, she glanced over at him. His hands were steady on the wheel. Steady, even after that question. Even after that woman had tried to cut into something deeply personal — something still raw.
Laura reached over and rested her hand on his thigh, giving a gentle squeeze. "You handled it well. Better than I think I would've."
Axel didn't look at her right away. He just started the car and let the engine hum softly beneath them. But the corner of his mouth lifted, the tension easing from his shoulders.
"Didn't feel like it," he murmured. "But thanks."
Zane and Sunny had already collapsed in the back seat — Sunny curled against Zane, her head on his shoulder, sketchpad tucked between them. Their laughter had faded to quiet murmurs and little yawns.
Outside the windows, the sun had started to dip low, casting soft orange light through the city streets as Axel pulled the car into motion. The radio played faintly in the background — something easy, wordless. The kind of music that let you just breathe.
Laura closed her eyes for a moment.
They had done it.
The performance.The interview.The questions.Even that question.
They were heading home now. And this time… home meant something else entirely.
---
The ride home had been quiet, content even, until Axel suddenly veered off the main road.
"Where are you going?" Laura asked softly, lifting her head from the window.
Axel smirked. "You're all running on fumes. We're making a quick pit stop."
It wasn't long before the bright yellow arches of a McDonald's came into view — nestled at the edge of a convenience plaza, glowing like a weird little oasis in the dusk.
Zane perked up from the back seat. "You serious?"
"My treat," Axel said, already pulling into the drive-thru lane. "For surviving the interview."
Sunny made a quiet little gasp sound. "Wait... you're paying? Axel? Are you sick?"
"Shut up and order," he grinned.
They began to call out their cravings like kids on a field trip.
"Nuggets!" Sunny declared immediately, leaning over Zane to get closer to the mic. "And a medium fries! Oh— and a vanilla McFlurry. With extra Oreo, if they can."
"Make that two McFlurries," Zane added. "Also… Big Mac. Extra pickles. I'm celebrating."
Laura glanced down at the menu on the glowing screen, hesitant. Fast food wasn't usually her thing. The oil, the salt, the heaviness — she'd always avoided it. But tonight... maybe she could bend her own rules, just a little.
"Just fries," she said at last, quietly. "Light on the salt, if they can manage it."
Axel looked at her sideways, eyebrows lifting in amusement. "Living on the edge tonight, huh?"
"Shut up," she muttered — but her smile betrayed her.
"And I'll take a double cheeseburger," Axel added smoothly. "No onions."
"Make that two," Zane said. "Let's go out greasy."
Sunny raised an eyebrow as she looked over the growing stack of items in his lap. "A Big Mac and a double cheeseburger? Zane, how much do you eat?"
Zane gave her an exaggerated shrug, reaching for a fry like it was no big deal. "Don't you know me by now? Besides—" he grinned, cocking his head smugly, "I'm still growing."
Laura turned around from the front seat, one eyebrow arched. "You're twenty-one."
"So?" he fired back without missing a beat, his mouth already half-full. "Growth is spiritual."
Sunny laughed, nudging him in the side with her elbow. "Growth is horizontal, with that much food."
Zane held up a fry in mock offense. "Hey. Watch your mouth. These are sacred calories."
Axel shook his head from the driver's seat, amused. "Can't believe I paid for this chaos."
"You funded greatness," Zane said proudly, gesturing to the pile of burgers on his lap.
And for a brief moment, in the midst of all the noise, wrappers, and dumb laughter, they felt like kids again. Tired, yes. But safe. Together. Whole.
They pulled ahead to the next window, the golden warmth of the lights pouring into the car. The smell of fried food filled the air as bags were passed in through the window — warm, crinkly, paper-wrapped comfort.
A few minutes later, they found a quiet spot in a nearby parking lot and parked the car.
Zane handed out food like it was sacred, passing napkins and sauces around like offerings. Sunny unwrapped her nuggets with exaggerated reverence, dipping one into sweet 'n sour sauce and humming in approval.
"Nothing hits like post-stress nuggets," she said, popping another into her mouth.
Zane passed her the McFlurry with a grin, before cracking his own open and scooping a spoonful directly into his mouth. "And this. This is pure art."
Laura picked at one fry, cautious — until she tasted it. Still hot, soft on the inside, a little crisp. A bit salty, sure, but not overwhelmingly so. She blinked.
"Huh," she murmured. "Not… awful."
"High praise from you," Axel chuckled, already halfway through his burger.
She glanced at him and smiled faintly. "Thank you. For driving. And for this."
He reached over and gave her knee a light squeeze. "Anytime."
And there they were. Four tired artists, crammed into a car full of wrappers, golden light, and laughter echoing through the open windows as the night slowly settled over the city around them.
---
After finishing their greasy feast and tossing their wrappers in the nearest bin, no one really wanted to call it a night. The city lights felt too loud, too final, like waking up from a good dream. Axel glanced in the rearview mirror, meeting Zane's eyes. No words needed.
"Let's not go home yet," he said softly, fingers already steering the car in a new direction.
He drove them to the edge of the city, where the skyline faded and the world grew quiet. They climbed a winding hill that overlooked everything — the glimmering lights below, the hush of trees lining the horizon, the vast stretch of sky just beginning to deepen into indigo.
No one said much at first. They just laid out a couple of blankets Axel kept in the trunk, sat close together, and let the stars slowly crawl into view above them.
It wasn't silent. It was... full. With laughter. Teasing. Zane and Sunny trying to guess constellations (and mostly getting them wrong), Axel narrating fake sci-fi lore about star systems, and Laura — for once — giggling without restraint. They shared the last of their drinks, made up dumb dares, pointed at satellites. Hours passed like minutes.
Eventually, exhaustion crept in. Laura leaned her head on Axel's shoulder, Sunny curled up at Zane's side. They were all halfway asleep, tangled in the stillness of night. Until the sky began to shift.
A blush of light spilled across the edge of the earth — golden and pink and impossibly soft.
Zane rubbed Sunny's shoulder gently. "Hey," he whispered. "You're gonna miss it."
Axel did the same, brushing Laura's cheek. "Look," he said, voice low, warm.
The girls blinked awake just in time to see it. The sunrise. Slow and glowing. Quiet but certain. Like the promise of something new.
They didn't speak much. Just watched. Fingers intertwined. Hearts still full.
And at the end of the day… at the end of everything… maybe it didn't matter what the future had in store for them.
As long as they had each other.
Fin.