Finding Us (Interracial Romance)

Broken Notes and Small Lights

Cecilia 

The morning sun filters through my half-open blinds, but it doesn't warm the heavy numbness wrapped around my chest. I haven't left this bed in hours, maybe a day. My phone is buried somewhere in the mess of sheets, likely flooded with messages I can't bear to read. The thought of responding to anyone feels like lifting a mountain.

My Grammy sits on the dusty shelf across from me, a golden beacon of everything I'm supposed to be proud of. It's not that I'm ungrateful. I remember the night I held it in my trembling hands, feeling overwhelmed by the love of an audience that saw me as a force to be reckoned with. But now? Now, it's just a hollow trophy that mocks me.

The clock reads 10:24 AM, Saturday. It blinks every second as if to remind me that time keeps moving forward, with or without me.

My bedroom door creaks open. "Mija?" A familiar voice slips through. My mom. Her gentle knock makes my heart ache.

"Not now," I croak, rolling over to face the wall.

Mom steps cautiously inside anyway. Her footsteps are soft, but her concern is loud, echoing in the air between us. "Sweetheart, we've barely seen you all week."

I let silence hang, feeling the pressure of my mom's worry in every corner of this room. She deserves more than this, but I don't have it in me to pretend. "I'm fine, mom," I whisper, but even I don't believe it.

I hear her sigh and she sits on the edge of my bed. "This isn't you, Cecilia. Hiding away... you haven't used your voice with that beautiful, special gift God has blessed you with, in weeks." Her voice wavers, as if the weight of watching me like this is too much to bear. "I just want to help."

I swallow hard, my throat feeling raw from the emptiness inside me. "I don't know who I am right now," I finally admit, my voice cracking.

Mom gently places her hand on my shoulder, but I still feel so far away. "You're my daughter," she says softly. "And you're loved. Whether you're singing, writing, or just... breathing."

I close my eyes, biting back the tears that come too easily these days. I feel like I'm losing a part of myself that used to make sense, and I can't quite figure out how to hold on. "Mom, it's like I've forgotten how to feel like me," I say, the honesty spilling out before I can stop it.

Her hand squeezes lightly. "Maybe you don't have to know right now. Just... one moment at a time."

One moment at a time. I wish it were that frickin' simple. I feel her get up and leave, her presence replaced by the loneliness that never really left. I know she's hurting for me. I hear it in her quiet steps down the hall, the muffled conversations she has with Dad about me, how they wonder if this storm in me will ever pass.

The house feels suffocating, so I decide to force myself up. I stumble into the bathroom and splash cold water onto my face, hoping it'll wake me from this fog. My reflection in the mirror is a stranger. I pull my bonnet off my head, revealing my tangled curls and my eyes are hollow, like a shadow of the girl who used to dream so loudly. Music used to pulse in my veins, but now it's just static.

My phone buzzes on the bathroom counter. I don't know when I grabbed it from my bed. A text lights up the screen. It's from Athena.

Athena: Hey, CeCe, thinking of you. Wanna come over? Annaliese misses you and we can binge something.

Her kindness twists something deep inside me. Athena has been trying so hard, and yet I feel like an anchor, pulling everyone down. I start typing a response: Sorry, I can't—

No. I can't keep isolating. My thumb hovers over the keyboard, and I force myself to delete the message. Instead, I write, Yeah. I'll be there in an hour. The decision is a small step, but it feels monumental.

When I finally leave the complex, the weight of the outside world feels different, almost surreal. The air is crisp, the California sky impossibly blue. Everything looks too bright, too full of life, compared to the emptiness I've been carrying.

Athena's house isn't far, just a fifteen-minute drive. I park outside and sit there for a moment, trying to catch my breath, to ground myself. My hands tremble as I think about going in, about pretending to be okay, but I can't back out now.

Athena opens the door before I can knock. Her hair is pulled into a messy bun, and she's wearing an oversized soft pink sweatshirt that reads Keep it Cozy. Her smile is soft but tentative. "Hey, you," she says, stepping aside to let me in. "Glad you made it."

"I almost didn't," I confess, giving her a weak smile.

Her eyes flicker with understanding and she wraps me in a hug that's warm and familiar. "It's okay. You're here now."

Before I can respond, Annaliese toddles into the hallway, her chubby hands clutching a stuffed unicorn. Her big brown eyes light up when she sees me. "Ce-Cee!" She exclaims, running toward me.

My heart squeezes and for a second, the heaviness lifts. I crouch down to her level, managing a genuine smile. "Hey, Annaliese," I say, catching her as she throws her little arms around my neck.

"Unicorn!" She announces, holding her toy up for me to see.

I laugh softly, the sound unfamiliar but welcome. "She's beautiful," I say, ruffling Annaliese's soft curls.

Athena watches us with a mixture of relief and love. "She's been talking about you nonstop," she says. "She even made me play your old songs just to hear your voice."

The mention of my music sends a pang through me, but Annaliese's innocent joy keeps the darkness at bay, if only for a moment. I follow Athena into the living room, where a stack of blankets and a pile of Annaliese's toys wait for us.

We settle in with The Great British Bake Off playing in the background. Annaliese snuggles between us, clutching her unicorn and giggling at the colorful cakes on the screen. The simplicity of it all—the warmth of Athena's home, the innocence of Annaliese's laughter—feels fragile yet grounding.

Athena turns to me, her eyes gentle. "Talk to me," she says softly.

I take a shaky breath, feeling the dam I've been trying to hold together start to break. "I don't know how to explain it," I say. "I thought the hiatus would help, that stepping back would make me find myself again. But it's like... the silence is swallowing me."

Athena's hand finds mine, her fingers warm and steady. "You don't have to explain it perfectly," she says. "I just want to hear whatever you can share."

I squeeze her hand, the tears slipping down my face. "It's like every time I try to create something, I hear people from the label that was supposed to support me, my choices, and my art as well as Damien's voice," I admit. "Telling me that my art, my faith, my voice, is a joke. And it's stupid because I know he's wrong, but..." My voice trails off, and my shoulders shake.

"Damien O'Brien and the entertainment business doesn't get to define you," Athena says firmly, her voice thick with emotion. "You're more than his cruel words. More than the pressure they put on you, more than that damn Grammy that shouldn't have to mean everything."

Annaliese reaches up, touching my face with her tiny hands. "No cry," she says softly, her little brows furrowed with concern.

Her sweet innocence undoes me and I gather her into my arms, holding her close. "I'm okay, Annaliese," I whisper, even though I'm not entirely sure I believe it. But holding her feels like holding onto a small, precious light.

Athena's eyes are fierce yet kind. "You matter, Cecilia. Your pain matters and you're allowed to feel this, even if it takes a long time to heal."

Her words sink into me, and for the first time in days, I feel a sliver of hope. Maybe this is what healing is—these raw, ugly moments with people who don't walk away when things get hard.

Annaliese giggles, distracted by the show's contestants crying over a ruined cake, and I can't help but smile. The episode continues and I let the warmth of Athena's friendship and Annaliese's laughter fill the cracks. It's not a cure and I know this darkness won't magically lift, but it's something. It's a step.

And for today, that has to be enough.