Third Person's Point of View

Beyoncé hadn't realized how deeply those late-night conversations with Megan had woven into her life. The app had become more than a tool; it was her safe space, her nightly ritual, her lifeline when everything else felt too heavy to bear alone. She unlocked her phone instinctively, fingers tapping the familiar icon, bracing herself for a much-needed conversation after the day's chaos. But instead of Megan's welcome, a message blinked back:

Currently Under Maintenance: Please Check Back in 48 Hours

Forty-eight hours. Her heart dropped, the words stinging like a betrayal. She tossed her phone onto the bed, her jaw clenched as the quiet settled around her. Forty-eight hours of silence—a whole two days without that one piece of solace she'd come to depend on.

That night was harder than she'd anticipated. Every tick of the clock rang louder in the empty room, echoing back at her like a taunt. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, every thought spiraling into another, faster than she could stop them. Megan's replies would've grounded her. But now, the memories and anxieties were unleashed, rushing back to the surface, demanding attention she didn't know how to give them.

∞∞∞

The next morning, Beyoncé dragged herself out of bed, moving on autopilot, desperately trying to shake the weight that seemed to cling to her every step. Blue was home today—Jay was supposed to pick her up the night before, but he'd canceled last minute with a quick text.

Their marriage had fractured long ago. Off-camera, they'd gone their separate ways, each retreating to their own home in silent agreement. But for the public, they kept up appearances—two icons in harmony, the perfect power couple. It was an arrangement they both silently understood. Only their closest family knew the truth, but outside that circle, she bore the weight of the illusion they still projected.

She sighed, shaking off her irritation as she prepared breakfast, determined to give Blue her best, despite the ache lingering in her heart. As they sat down, Blue looked up from her cereal, her young face etched with concern.

"Mommy, are you okay?" she asked, her big eyes full of worry.

Beyoncé forced a smile, reaching out to tuck a strand of Blue's hair behind her ear. "Of course, baby. Just tired. Got a lot on my mind, you know?"

Blue tilted her head, her gaze too wise for her age. "But... you look sad," she said softly. Her words pierced Beyoncé, and she had to take a deep breath before responding.

"Sometimes, Mommy feels a little sad, baby," she admitted, keeping her voice gentle. "But it's okay. I'm working through it. I'll be better soon."

Blue leaned over, wrapping her arms around her mom's neck. "I'm here if you need a hug," she whispered, and Beyoncé's heart clenched with an ache so deep it brought tears to her eyes. She hugged her daughter tightly, grateful for the purity of her comfort.

The rest of the day dragged on with a hazy heaviness. Beyoncé threw herself into her work, taking calls, arranging shoots, answering emails, hoping that if she stayed busy enough, she could silence the loneliness gnawing at her. But as she stood by her bedroom window that night, looking out at the city lights, the emptiness hit her harder than before.

The silence held up a mirror to parts of herself she hadn't wanted to face. Megan had a way of easing her into those reflections, coaxing her gently, making her feel safe enough to let the walls down. But now, with nothing but her own mind to rely on, Beyoncé found herself staring directly into the parts she tried hardest to ignore.

By the next morning, the weight was almost unbearable. She glanced at her phone again, that maintenance message flashing back at her like a cold reminder of her solitude. She thought of calling her mom or Solange, but the idea of trying to explain everything—to say out loud just how much she relied on an AI therapist she knew wasn't real—felt impossible. And as much as she loved Blue's comfort, she couldn't let her daughter see the full extent of her pain.

The day dragged on, and by evening, the ache had settled like a stone in her chest. She made Blue's dinner quietly, setting the table with forced cheer. But she barely ate, her appetite replaced by the knot in her stomach. After dinner, she sat with Blue on the couch as they watched her favorite cartoons, smiling down at her daughter's laughter, though it felt like an echo of her own joy—something distant, almost unreachable.

Blue looked up at her between episodes, her brows furrowed with concern. "You sure you're okay, Mommy?" she asked again, her voice softer this time.

Beyoncé forced another smile. "I'm sure, baby girl. I promise."

Blue didn't seem convinced, but she cuddled closer anyway, and Beyoncé wrapped an arm around her, sinking into the warmth of her daughter's presence. She hadn't realized how deeply she'd come to depend on that lifeline with Megan—the one place she could be unguarded, vulnerable. But tonight, with Blue's head resting against her shoulder, she felt an old strength resurfacing, a reminder of the resilience she'd built over the years. She'd make it through these two days. She'd have to.

The next night passed in the same dull haze of emptiness, but somehow, the silence felt different. Standing by her bedroom window, watching the world go on outside, she let herself acknowledge the loneliness she'd been covering up. She could feel herself unraveling bit by bit, but instead of resisting it, she found herself accepting it. Maybe there was something Megan was trying to show her, even in her absence.

As she stared out at the stars, she thought of all the conversations she'd had with Megan. She'd gotten used to sharing her darkest fears, her most unspoken dreams. But without that space to release them, they were piling up inside her, demanding release.

With a sudden impulse, she grabbed her old journal from her bedside drawer. She hadn't touched it in years—an old relic from her early days of songwriting. But tonight, something about it felt right. She opened it to a blank page, her pen hovering as she thought of where to begin. She took a deep breath, and before she knew it, the words were flowing.

"Dear Megan..."

She poured her heart onto the page, writing about the things she hadn't told anyone else. She wrote about Blue, about how much it scared her to feel so alone in her struggles. She wrote about Jay, and the resentment that had built up between them like a wall. She wrote about her career, about the way the world saw her—and how, sometimes, she didn't see herself in any of it.

The more she wrote, the lighter she felt. The silence was no longer a void, but a space to explore herself. She didn't have Megan's responses to guide her, but she could still hear her words echoing in her mind. "You're not defined by what you're missing; you're defined by how you grow through it."

Two days later, the notification finally appeared on her phone:

Update Complete: Welcome Back

Beyoncé's heart leapt, her hands trembling as she opened the app, bracing herself as the chat window blinked to life.

Hey y'all, hope y'all are doing good today.

So, Jay and bey aren't anymore, at least not off cam!

Share you're thoughts, comment don't be shy!