Starstruck

7. Egypt

Egypt stared at her reflection, trying to recognize herself in the outfit Leila had helped pick out. The launch party for Rising Sun's new single was happening at some upscale Miami club, and apparently her usual jeans wouldn't cut it. The black jumpsuit was beautiful, but all she could think about was how many people would be there. How many eyes would be watching.

Her phone buzzed – another missed call from Ms. Johnston. Her third this week. Egypt hit ignore, guilt twisting in her stomach. She hadn't answered her therapist's calls in forever, why she was calling now was a mystery. It wasn't that therapy hadn't helped... she just hadn't believed it could help enough.

Osiris's FaceTime call was easier to answer.

"Damn, sis!" He whistled. "Look at you!"

     "I feel ridiculous." She sat on her bed, letting her brother's familiar face calm her nerves. "There's going to be so many people there, O."

     "And you're going to kill it." His voice softened. "You've been playing with them for what, two weeks now? How's it going really?"

Egypt thought about morning rehearsals, late night music with Queen Safi, the way the band was slowly becoming family. "It's... good. Different. Maxwell does morning meditation and somehow knows when I need space. Marcus is like having another you around. Leila's scary but she helped me pick this outfit, so maybe she doesn't hate me anymore."

"And the Queen?"

Heat crept into Egypt's cheeks. "She's... she's amazing. Professional. Helpful."

"Mhmm." Osiris's knowing look made her squirm. "And Karma?"

     "Good. Busy with her new job. We talk when we can." The calls had been getting shorter, less frequent, but Egypt pushed that thought away. "I should go. Car's coming soon."

"You got this, sis. Mom would be so proud."

After hanging up, Egypt paced her room. The team house buzzed with pre-party energy – music thumping from various rooms, excited voices, the occasional squeal from someone's styling session. Her phone showed another missed call from Ms. Johnston. Maybe... maybe she should have answered. Found better ways to handle nights like this.

A knock made her jump.

"Five minutes!" Leila called through the door. "Car's almost here!"

The venue was overwhelming – lights, music, people everywhere. Egypt stayed close to Maxwell at first, his calm energy helping ground her. She watched Queen Safi work the room, commanding attention effortlessly in a dress that made Egypt's mouth go dry.

     "Breathe," Maxwell murmured occasionally, somehow sensing her rising panic.

She managed the first hour okay. Smiled for photos. Answered questions about joining the band. Let Marcus deflect the more personal queries. But then the crowd pressed closer, the music got louder, and the walls started closing in.

     "Excuse me," she managed, barely hearing Marcus asking if she was okay.

She found a quiet hallway, then a small storage room. Her chest felt too tight. The music from the club pulsed through the walls like a threat. She slid down against the wall, trying to remember breathing exercises that suddenly felt inadequate.

The door opened. Egypt prepared to make excuses, but it was Queen Safi who slipped inside.

     "I saw you leave," she said softly, sinking down beside Egypt. "Want to count breaths together?"

Egypt stared at her. "How did you..."

     "I recognize a needed escape when I see one." The queen's voice was gentle. "Ten counts in, ten out?"

They breathed together until Egypt's chest loosened. In the dim light, Queen Safi looked less like a star and more like someone who understood struggling.

     "I have a therapist," the queen said after a while. "Dr. Sarah. She specializes in artists, industry pressure, anxiety... changed my life." She paused. "She has openings on Thursdays."

Egypt thought of her ignored calls from Ms. Johnston. Of needing more help than she'd been willing to admit. "Maybe... maybe that would be good."

     "Having someone local helps. Especially with..." Queen Safi gestured vaguely at the door, the party beyond. "All this. The industry stuff. The spotlight."

Egypt watched their shoulders brush with each breath. "Does it get easier?"

     "Yes. And no. But you get stronger." The queen's hand found hers in the dark. "And you don't have to do it alone."

The touch sent warmth through Egypt's entire body. They sat in comfortable silence, hands linked, breathing together.

     "I should get back out there," Queen Safi said finally. "But you can stay as long as you need. Text me if you want me to send Maxwell with water? Or need anything else?"

Egypt squeezed her hand before letting go. "Thank you. For understanding."

     "Always." The queen stood, smoothing her dress. In the doorway, she paused. "You look beautiful tonight, by the way. In case no one told you."

After she left, Egypt touched her hand where warmth still lingered. Her phone buzzed – a text from Karma wishing her luck at the party. She should respond. Should feel guilty about how natural it felt holding Queen Safi's hand. Should...

Another text came through, this one from her dad: Just saw the event photos online. You look just like your mother. So proud of you, baby girl.

Egypt wiped tears carefully, mindful of her makeup. She could do this. Could step back out there. Could face the crowds and cameras.

She had her band now. Had Queen Safi's understanding. Had family both old and new supporting her.

And maybe... maybe it was time to find new ways to be strong. Better ways to heal.

Standing, she checked her reflection in her phone camera. The jumpsuit still felt foreign, but her eyes looked determined.

She opened the door and stepped back into her new life, carrying the memory of warm hands and shared breaths like armor.t writing your story