Golden Melody (Editing)

Chapter 128

Chapter 128 – Summer

—Miexha’s Point of View—

Summer came in like a fever dream.

Literally. I thought I was hallucinating when I saw myself in a TV commercial—me, Littlelune, awkwardly brushing my bangs while pretending to enjoy an energy drink. (Acting should pay triple.)

We skipped Valentine’s Day. Or rather, I emotionally skipped it.
Ofreigha did her annual national holiday performance—publicly declaring, once again, her undying love for her boyfriend, Zatariel.
Like, okay Queen Bee. We get it. Your man glows in the dark.

Meanwhile, Jayson gave me a tiny teddy bear that screamed airport gift shop panic-buy.
I gave him chocolates—ugly, rushed, lumpy ones.

I gave Zatariel the perfect ones.
Heart-shaped. Glossy. Sweet.
True love wins over husband. Sorry not sorry.

(Then I shared the leftovers with my bandmates because I’m not a monster.)

Sonata gave me flowers. Jayson took them.

That was Valentine’s.

---

The school year ended with field trips and fresh trauma.

Capital City Zoo. Sunshine. Selfies.
I cried over bunnies.

Actual tears. They were just so soft. So innocent. Too pure for this harsh, painful world. I was having a moment, okay?

And then I heard fists.

Zatariel and Jayson.
Fighting.
Loud and Brutal.

Rumors blamed a love triangle with Ofreigha.
Some students rooted for it like it was the main event.

But I knew better.

No one else knew about Huntington’s.
Not even Jayson.
Just me.
And a few teachers.

I wanted to scream. Of course Zatariel wasn’t the same.
His body was a ticking clock, and no one else could hear it.

But I stayed quiet. Like always.

---

Then came class rankings.
By some miracle, I made Top 10.

Ofreigha? Top 1. (Surprise surprise.)

Zatariel dropped to Top 5.

People noticed. Whispered.
But no one asked why.

---

And now... it’s summer.

Which means: no rest for the moderately famous.

Xymph is exploding.
Commercial shoots.
A toothpaste ad. A sunscreen promo. A cereal collab I still don’t understand.

Music videos—three back-to-back, no sleep, outfit changes in parking lots.
Live concerts. Stage fog. Endless lights.

And now, here we are again:
In the studio. It’s hot. My bangs are stuck to my forehead.

Echojam is yelling at Bluechord to stop flirting during practice.
Sonata’s pretending to stretch but is just admiring himself in the mirror.

And me?

I’m at the piano.
Fixing notes. Humming half-baked melodies.

Pretending everything’s fine.

---

Beach Concert

Summer. Sand. Sweat. Sea breeze. Teen fever.

Our first open-air beach concert.