Finding Us (Christian Interracial Romance)

When the Music Stops

Jeremy

"What's wrong, Athena?" Ellie queries, glancing around the room as if she's trying to process any information. 

The air feels thick with tension in our living room. I pace back and forth, trying to make sense of everything I'm hearing. My heart pounds as I pick up pieces of the conversation coming from the couch where Thomas, Bradley, and Ellie sit, staring at Athena. Her voice is breaking as she recounts the news.

"Cecilia," Athena says, her eyes glistening, "she's taking a break from music. She announced it today."

Bradley leans forward, confusion drawing lines across his forehead. "But she just won a Grammy," he says, his voice half incredulous, half worried. "Like, two weeks ago. How does that even make sense?"

Ellie pulls her knees to her chest, looking smaller than ever. "Why would she quit now?" She echoes, her voice trembling.

Athena takes a shaky breath, tears sliding down her cheeks. "It's not about the Grammy's," she says, her voice cracking. "It's everything. The industry, the pressure, how... demonic the whole thing is. She's tired, depressed, and done with it all. Even the awards—she told me and the girls how satanic they feel. We all felt it, we were in the same room. The Grammy Awards have always been... messed up. And she's done pretending it's fine."

The room goes silent, except for the sound of my footsteps on the hardwood floor. I can't stop pacing. My mind races back to Cecilia, to the girl I've known almost my whole life. Memories rush in—her singing her heart out at family barbecues, her performing during school talent shows with that spark in her eyes. How she owned the stage in school productions, how she sang softly to herself when she thought no one was listening. How she had this way of making everyone feel the music in their bones.

Athena looks up, wiping her eyes. She doesn't even glance at me and the distance between us feels deeper than the Grand Canyon. It's been four months since I came back home for good and mine and Cecilia's last conversation face-to-face from three months ago still haunts me. But right now, even my strained relationship with my twin sister pales in comparison to the knot in my chest as I think about Cecilia.

"Cecilia is really hurting," Athena continues, and there's so much pain in her voice. "I wish... I wish we could've left the venue as soon as possible when that moment was unsettling, but it was too late. She's pulling away from everything. I don't even know if she's praying anymore."

I stop pacing. Praying. The word hits me like a punch to the gut. Cecilia used to pray about everything, her faith woven into every melody she created. Now, I can't imagine how dark things must be for her if she's losing that light.

Thomas looks at Athena, his eyebrows drawing together in doubt. "Come on, Athena," he says, shaking his head. "There's no way Cecilia would stop praying. She's too grounded to her faith to not pray." 

Athena wipes her eyes, and a fresh wave of pain crosses her face. "I thought the same thing," she whispers. "But even the strongest people can lose hope when they're hurting. And Cecilia... she's hurting more than you know."

Before I can say anything, mom and dad walk into the room. Dad has this grave look on his face, and mom's lips are pressed together, eyes clouded with worry. I know something heavy is about to drop.

Dad clears his throat, his usual warm demeanor replaced with a somber one. "We just got off the phone with Cecilia's parents," he says. "They confirmed it. She's really stepping away from the music industry. She needs time and she needs healing. We need to keep her and the Evans family in our prayers."

Mom nods and she looks directly at me. She knows. She knows how badly things ended between Cecilia, Athena, and me, even if we didn't tell her every detail. She walks over and places a gentle hand on my arm, guiding me to the couch. I sink down beside her, feeling more lost than ever.

"Jeremy," Mom begins, her voice soft but firm, "I know how much you care about Cecilia, even if things haven't been right between you two. But now is the time to pray for her. Pray for her healing, her heart, and her faith. You've drifted from God, but I believe He's calling you back. Jesus Christ is coming soon and I don't want you to wait until it's too late."

I look at her, my chest tight. It's been a long time since I've really believed or prayed. I can't even remember the last time I genuinely felt anything spiritual. Mom's words press against the walls I've built around my heart, walls I've kept up to guard myself from pain, from disappointment.

Dad steps forward, his hands resting on top of mom's shoulders. "Your mother's right. Remember what I told you, Jeremy," he adds, his voice a mix of concern and hope, "you're free now. Free from Hannah and all the damage she caused. You can't let her manipulations keep haunting you. Focus on what matters. Focus on your faith. And focus on people like Cecilia."

I clench my jaw. The mention of Hannah stirs up old wounds. She manipulated me, turned me against the people I cared about most, including Cecilia. And now that her light is dimmed, I'm left to face the broken pieces.

"Mom, Dad," I say, my voice low, "I know you're right. I... I just don't know how to start again."

Mom squeezes my hand. "You start by talking to God," she encourages. "By trusting Him, even if it feels impossible. And by being there for people you love, even if it's from a distance."

I nod slowly, but I'm not sure how to pray, how to reach for something I feel so disconnected from. Cecilia's face flashes through my mind—her laugh, her music, the way she lit up every room. I want to be there for her, but I don't even know if she'd want me to be.

Athena stands, gathering her things. Her eyes meet mine for the briefest moment and I see so much anger and sadness there. She's still not ready to forgive me and I don't blame her. She heads to the door, her voice small as she addresses everyone but me. "I need to go be with Annaliese," she says. "We'll talk later."

The door clicks shut behind her, and the emptiness she leaves behind feels suffocating. I stare at the floor, memories swirling around me—of Cecilia, of the moments we shared, of how the world feels a little less bright without her music. And memories of me and Athena, we used to be attached to the hip and really close despite the fact she's thirteen minutes younger than me and she acts like she's older than me.

I whisper under my breath, the words clumsy and uncertain. "God, if you're there... please, please help Cecilia. Help me know how to be there for her. Help me believe again."

The silence that follows isn't comforting, but maybe it's a start. And maybe, just maybe, it'll lead to something more.