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That evening when Richard and I returned from spending the day together, I headed up to my room, desperately needing a quick power nap. It had been an amazing day, but an exhausting one.
I woke up half an hour later to the bright, white light from street lamps filtering through the curtains of my hotel room. The quiet was almost too much—a rare stillness that I wasn't sure how to feel about. Comforting, maybe. But also unsettling. As I stretched, I felt the familiar tightness in my hand, the cut from a few days ago had nearly healed, leaving behind a faint scar. I flexed my fingers carefully, feeling the new skin stretch. It was amazing how fast the body could heal. My leg, too, where I'd burned myself, was finally getting better. The angry red was fading, turning into a softer pink, and the skin was starting to smooth out again.
I traced the edge of the burn absentmindedly, my mind drifting back over everything that had happened recently. These past few weeks had been a whirlwind—physically demanding, and emotionally draining. And yet, here I was, on the brink of something big. The first official concert was tomorrow, and just the thought of it sent a thrill of excitement through me, mixed with a good dose of anxiety.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, my bare feet meeting the cool floor. I took a moment to just sit there, running a hand through my tangled hair, and let out a long sigh. The silence in the room seemed to make everything in my head louder, my thoughts swirling just below the surface, barely contained.
I reached for my phone on the nightstand, unlocking it to see a few unread messages and notifications. Most of them were the usual—band updates, schedule reminders. But then I saw Alexander's name, and my heart skipped a beat. The one person who always knew what to say, who knew me better than I knew myself, had sent me a message.
Alex (8:21 AM) Hey, just left your mom's funeral. It was beautiful, but I wish you were here. I know it's hard being away, but she would be proud of you, Anna. Call me when you can.
A lump formed in my throat, and I felt my eyes blur with tears as I read his words over and over. It hadn't been that long since she passed, and the grief still felt raw, like an open wound that hadn't even started to heal. The funeral... I missed the funeral because of the tour, because of everything happening here. The guilt gnawed at me, this constant companion that wouldn't let me forget what I'd lost, what I couldn't get back.
I blinked away the tears, forcing myself to stay in the present. I couldn't let myself get lost in it, not now. There was too much at stake. The concert was tomorrow, and it was a huge deal, not just for me, but for everyone. My thoughts shifted to Richard, and with them came all the complicated feelings I'd been trying to keep at bay. Our connection had grown deeper, more intense, but it was also more confusing than ever. Sometimes, it felt like I could read his mind, like we were perfectly in sync. But then there were these moments of doubt, where I questioned everything.
I couldn't stop thinking about the last few nights—how I let my vulnerabilities slip, how I demanded that he tell me he was mine. He said it. I thought. He actually said it. But did he mean it? Or was it just something in the heat of the moment? I kept replaying his words in my head, looking for some kind of clue, some sign that he felt the same way I did.
