sonara143
Amaya is a quiet, introspective 16-year-old girl living in London with her young, emotionally complex mother. Unlike most girls her age, Amaya doesn't chase popularity or attention-she finds solace in music. Ever since she was twelve, she's been obsessed with the song Champagne Coast by Blood Orange, often listening to it under the moonlight, imagining a life that feels far away from her own.
Her father-a charming womanizer-left for Korea with her older brother when she was still too young to remember much. The only image she carries is of the day they left, her tiny hands gripping her mother's as the cab disappeared into the night. Her mother still struggles with that loss, sometimes calling her ex just to ask about her son, despite their strained relationship.
Amaya's mother was once a carefree 20-year-old who followed friends from one fleeting dream to another. She met Amaya's father while still entangled in a healthy relationship with a man who loved her. But when she discovered she was pregnant with Amaya, her life split into the "what could've been" and the messy, beautiful chaos of what is. She often wonders about her first love-a dear friend she never stopped missing.
Amaya dreams of becoming a singer. She sings when she's alone, her voice soft, but full of soul. She recently found out from her mother that her older brother-now a stranger-also dreams of making music as a guitarist. This strange, bittersweet connection drives her even more.
Her only close friend at school supports her dreams wholeheartedly. They talk about the future, share playlists, and encourage each other to keep going, even when life feels too heavy.
Then there's him. The boy with the guitar and the cigarettes. One year older, always leaning against the wall with that sleepy look in his eyes. He barely speaks, but Amaya feels drawn to him. Every time their eyes meet, something stirs inside her-something like a song she hasn't written yet.