𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 , ᶻᵃʸⁿ ᵐᵃˡⁱᵏ

a little time out

The fluorescent lights in the rehearsal studio felt harsher than usual, making me squint as I stretched my arms, trying to shake off the heaviness that clung to my body. I hadn't slept at all. After the meeting about the album, I stayed up in the studio, determined to record the last few tracks. Now, every muscle ached, and my throat felt raw.

"Serena, you good?" my choreographer asked, tilting her head.

I forced a smile, nodding, even though I could barely muster the energy to stand upright. "Yeah, just... need a minute."

Liam was in the corner, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room like always. His expression was unreadable, but I could tell he was watching me closely, probably counting how many times I swayed on my feet. I didn't need him to call me out right now, though. There was already enough on my plate.

"Alright, let's take it from the top," the choreographer clapped her hands, and the music kicked in again.

As I hit the first step, my limbs felt sluggish. Every beat I was supposed to hit felt like dragging myself through wet cement. The mirror in front of me showed a version of myself that looked tired and drained—nothing like the energetic performer I was supposed to be. I bit down on the inside of my cheek, trying to force some energy into my moves, but the burn behind my eyes reminded me how close I was to crashing out.

By the time we reached the chorus, I could feel my body slowing down, the exhaustion catching up with me. My foot caught slightly, and I stumbled, barely catching myself before faceplanting.

"Whoa, Serena!" one of the dancers called out, concern in their voice.

I let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Sorry, I'm just—"

Before I could finish, the music cut off, and I felt Liam's presence behind me.

"You're done."

I blinked up at him, startled. "What—Liam, no, I just need one more—"

He didn't even let me finish, his hand guiding me toward the door like there wasn't room for discussion. His touch was firm but careful, like he didn't want to hurt me, but he also wasn't going to budge.

"Liam!" I tried to twist out of his hold, but he was stronger, more resolute. "I can keep going, I swear. Just one more run—"

"No." His voice was calm, final. "You're pushing too hard."

I felt the heat of frustration rising, but my body was too drained to put up a real fight. "You don't understand—"

"I do," he murmured, his hand still resting on my waist as he steered me toward the exit. "That's why I'm stopping you."

I could hear the faint music still playing from the speakers, but it was already slipping away, like the energy I had left. The exhaustion hit me all at once, like a wave crashing down. My legs felt shaky as we neared the exit, and for a second, I was almost grateful he was holding me up.

"I hate you, you know that?" I muttered under my breath, though there was no real venom in it.

He didn't say anything, just gave me a look that said, You'll thank me later.

Liam's grip never faltered as we moved toward the exit, his hand steady at my waist like he was making sure I didn't collapse on the way out.

"Where are we going?" I asked, though I already knew he wasn't going to give me a real answer. He was stubborn like that.

"To the car," he replied, his voice as even as ever, ignoring my tone.

I sighed, letting him guide me toward the waiting SUV. My legs were still shaky, and as much as I hated to admit it, I needed a break. The last few days had been a whirlwind of late-night recording sessions and non-stop rehearsals, and it was finally catching up with me.