Name: India
She was stepping out of a car.
Music thumped somewhere nearby, bass rolling through pavement and bone. Neon lights bled across the street. He stood beside her like he belonged to the night itself. Not smiling. Just watching. Like he already knew what everyone else was about to learn.
Inside, people parted when he walked. Not dramatically. Naturally. Like doors opening on their own.
She didn’t remember how they met. Only that he’d been helping her. Guiding her. Showing up when things went wrong. He’d been kind in ways that felt rare. Safe in ways that felt dangerous.
He handed her flowers.
Right there.
In front of everybody.
The room went still.
A voice cut through the silence. “We already know what she’s been doing.”
Heat crawled up her neck. Faces turned. Whispers sparked. Two girls stepped forward, eyes sharp, posture stiff with attitude that didn’t need volume.
One of them tilted her head.
Her stomach dropped.
She looked at him.
He didn’t look back.
The realization hit like glass shattering in slow motion.
“You got a whole family?” she said, voice shaking but loud.“You proud?” the girl added “Ask your daddy what he been doing.”
Gasps. Phones lifting. People leaning in.
Then chaos.
Her friend.
“Stop. Come on. Come on.” She pulled her away, half dragging, half holding, steering her through the chaos and into the night air that felt colder than it should’ve.
They reached the car. She slid inside, breathing hard, heart still racing like it didn’t know the fight was over. Her friend didn’t say anything. Just started the engine.
Minutes passed in silence.
A huge event space. Industrial ceilings. LED panels. Ring lights. Cameras. Influencers everywhere, talking loud, laughing louder, faces half painted in glam and confidence. It looked like an overnight creator summit mixed with a launch party. People she recognized.
People who recognized her.
She didn’t know why she was there.
She just knew she was supposed to be.
Her chest still hurt. Her thoughts felt scrambled, like someone shuffled her emotions like cards and dealt them wrong.
Asia spotted her first. “Girl. What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.”
That one word came out too fast.
Asia squinted. She knew that tone. But before she could press, someone called her name from across the room and she got pulled away in a swirl of voices and perfume.
The noise pressed in.
She needed air.
She slipped down a hallway and into a bathroom, gripping the sink while her reflection stared back like it didn’t recognize her. Her eyes burned. Her throat tightened. She didn’t cry yet. The tears just… waited.
When she stepped back out, she kept walking until she found a massive auditorium. Dark. Empty. Quiet like a held breath.
A janitor was inside sweeping.
He glanced up. Took one look at her face.
“You look stressed,” he said gently. “I can step out.”
She nodded.
He rolled his cart toward the door, paused, then added, “Actually… I’ll stay. Just in case you don’t wanna be alone.”
Something in her chest cracked a little.
She sank into a seat.
That’s when Ricky appeared, sliding into the chair beside her like she’d always been there. No questions at first. Just presence. Warm. Steady.
That did it.
Tears spilled. Silent. Fast.
Ricky rubbed her back. “You don’t gotta explain. I got you.”
Minutes passed. Maybe more. Time didn’t feel real in that room.
Eventually her breathing slowed. Shoulders loosened. The storm inside her settled into a drizzle.
“I’m okay,” she whispered.
Ricky nodded like she believed her even if she didn’t.
Her phone buzzed.
A text from a friend asking where she was.
She went to find them.
That’s when she saw the girls again.
Same two.
Same energy.
Different hallway.
“Well look who came back,” the girl said.
She kept walking.
A hand grabbed her shoulder.
Wrong choice.
What followed moved too fast for memory to hold properly. Voices raised. Shoes scraping. Bodies colliding.
When it stopped, both girls were on the floor and the hallway was silent except for her breathing.
There was blood on her hands.
On her sleeve.
On the tile.
The girl groaned, nose bleeding, trying to glare through daze.
She crouched slightly. Calm. Cold.
“Call your daddy,” she said.
“Tell him I’m about to burn his studio down.”
The girl blinked.
She leaned closer.
“Not just the studio. Tell him I’m bringing that whole label building down.”
Then she stood and walked away.
Nobody stopped her.
Nobody spoke.
When she pushed back into the auditorium, it was full now. Lights blazing. Music testing through speakers. Creators everywhere. Laughter. Cameras. Energy like static.
Every head turned.
Blood has a way of stealing attention.
Ricky rushed over. “What happened?!”
“They just wouldn’t stop trying to fight,” she said flatly.
People stared. Whispered. Filmed discreetly. The noise slowly returned like nothing had happened.
Thirty minutes later things felt almost normal again.
Her brother dropped into the seat beside her.
Then someone sat on her other side.
She turned.
One of the girls.
Cleaned up. Quiet. Too quiet.
Her eyes narrowed.
Across the crowd she spotted a boy shifting through people. Hoodie. Head low. Hand near his pocket. Something about the way he moved made her chest tighten.
Instinct.
Her brother followed her gaze. His posture changed instantly.
Without a word, he stood, pulled her up, and guided her toward the exit.
“Don’t look back,” he murmured.
They were halfway to the doors when the boy’s hand slipped fully into his hoodie.
Metal flashed.
Her brother shoved the door open and pushed her through.
----
She woke up.
Dark room. Tangled sheets. Skin damp. Head throbbing like someone knocking from inside.
Beside her, he slept peacefully. Completely unaware he’d just starred in the wildest chaos her mind had ever directed.
She stared at him.
Smacked him with a pillow.
“What the—”
“Have you ever been married before me?”
“…No?”
She squinted.
Rolled over.
He lay there staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what crime he’d committed in a reality he hadn’t visited.
Behind him, she muttered sleepily,
“You know what you did.”
He did not.
