Behind The Beat

VII - The Past

Rozalie sat curled up on Val's couch, her legs tucked beneath her as she idly scrolled through her phone. The soft hum of music filtered through the room, blending seamlessly with the gentle clinks and thuds of Val moving around somewhere down the hall.

The apartment felt warm and lived-in, filled with little touches that spoke to Val's personality—a half-empty mug left on the coffee table, a stack of vinyl records leaning against a bookshelf, a worn guitar propped in the corner. Rozalie found herself relaxing into the space, a small smile tugging at her lips as she let herself enjoy the calm.

Her peace was interrupted by the sound of raised voices down the hallway. At first, it was just muffled conversation—Val's voice low and steady, too indistinct for Rozalie to make out the words. But soon, the tone shifted, rising in sharpness and tension.

— You've got to be kidding me! — Val's voice broke through the quiet, carrying easily into the living room. Rozalie glanced toward the hallway, her stomach twisting slightly at the frustration in Val's tone.

She didn't mean to eavesdrop, but Val's voice grew louder, unmistakably angry now.

— No. No, I'm not doing this again. You don't get to show up out of nowhere and act like it's my responsibility to do this again!

The pause that followed was tense, filled with the faint crackle of Val pacing back and forth. Then came a bitter laugh, short and sharp.

— Closure? Is that what this is about? Because it sounds a hell of a lot more like you just want to pick another fight.

Rozalie set her phone down, biting her lip as she debated whether to say something. She hated the idea of intruding, but Val sounded... upset.

The call dragged on, Val's tone swinging between frustration and something softer, more vulnerable.

— Yeah, well, maybe I wasn't enough for you. But you weren't perfect either, you know?

Another pause. Rozalie could faintly hear the voice on the other end of the call, too muffled to make out the words but clearly insistent.

— God — Val muttered. — We're long gone, okay? Stop calling me.

The sharp click of the call ending was followed by heavy footsteps. A moment later, Val stepped into the living room, her phone still clutched tightly in one hand, her jaw clenched. She caught Rozalie's gaze and quickly looked away, running a hand through her hair.

— Sorry about that — she muttered, dropping onto the couch with a heavy sigh.

Rozalie hesitated.

— Everything okay?

— Yeah, I guess — Val admitted, her voice low. She set her phone down on the coffee table, shaking her head. — It was my ex. She has this incredible talent for showing up at exactly the wrong time.

Rozalie shifted slightly, unsure how much to press.

— That sounds... rough.

Val let out a bitter laugh, leaning back against the couch.

— Yeah, rough is one way to put it. She thinks I owe her something—closure, an apology, I don't even know. But every time we talk, it's the same thing: I'm the bad guy, and she's the victim.

Rozalie frowned, tilting her head.

— Why do you think she keeps calling?

— Hell if I know — Val muttered, crossing her arms. — Maybe she really does want closure. Or maybe she just wants to make me feel like crap one more time.