Megan's Point of View

I can barely breathe.

My hands are trembling as I sit alone in my apartment, the familiar weight of guilt pressing down on me like a stone. I never should have let it get this far. This is exactly what I was trying to avoid, and now I can't go back.

I stare at my phone, but the screen is just a blur of nothingness. Every little notification feels like a warning, like it's telling me I'm on the edge of losing everything.

I keep thinking about Beyoncé. About what she said to me today. About how she's confiding in me, trusting me. She doesn't know. She doesn't know that I'm the same person she been telling all her thoughts on the phone.

I try to shake the thought off, but it's impossible.

What if she figures it out? What if she notices the way my voice slips sometimes, how it sounds exactly like the AI she's been talking to for months? What if she connects the dots and realizes that the woman she met at the festival, the one who helped her through her panic attack, is the same person who's been her therapist this whole time?

The thought makes my chest tighten. I feel like I'm suffocating.

I'm screwed. I'm really, truly screwed.

I've been careful. Too careful. I've made sure to keep the voices separate, to keep the distance between Dr. Pete and myself, but every conversation we've had, every word I've said, every moment of calm I've offered... it's all becoming a tangled mess in my mind.

What if she recognizes me? The way I breathe, the way I talk? It's not just my voice. It's everything. The way I say things, how I comfort her, how I make her feel safe. It's all the same. It's me.

I stand up, pacing the room, my thoughts spinning faster and faster.

She's going to figure it out. She'll ask questions. She'll wonder why my voice is so familiar. She's already been talking to me as an AI for months, but now, she's met me in person as Dr. Pete. What if she starts putting the pieces together?

I shake my head, trying to force myself to breathe. But the panic is setting in, and I can't stop it.

The thought of Beyoncé figuring it out—it makes me sick. I can't lose her. I can't. She needs me. But she doesn't need me as Megan. She needs Dr. Pete. She needs someone who's calm, someone who's controlled. She doesn't need the mess of me.

But here I am, in too deep, playing a game I can't win.

I slump onto the couch, my face buried in my hands. I've crossed the line, and there's no turning back.

But I can't let her know. I can't let her find out the truth.

The silence in the room feels deafening, each tick of the clock mocking me. She's going to figure it out, I think again, my thoughts spiraling.

What if she remembers how I spoke at the festival? What if she recalls the way I sounded? She could put it all together.

I can't breathe. I can't think straight.

I stand up again, pacing in circles like a caged animal. What if it happens now? What if she sees me as Dr. Pete and starts asking questions I can't answer?

My head is spinning, the guilt weighing on me like a thousand pounds. I lied. I lied about who I am, about everything. I've kept this secret for so long, but now it's catching up to me.

Why did I think I could do this?

I feel the heat rise in my chest, the guilt building, threatening to swallow me whole. Beyoncé trusts me. She thinks I'm helping her. But I'm lying to her face. I'm not an AI. I'm Megan. I'm just Megan.

But I'm too far in to stop now. I have to keep going. I have to play this role, even though every fiber of my being is telling me to run. To tell her the truth, to come clean before it all explodes in my face.

But I can't.

I can't tell her the truth. I can't ruin everything.

The guilt is suffocating. It feels like I'm drowning in my own lies. But the thought of losing her, of losing everything we've built—of her finding out that the woman she's been pouring her heart out to is just a fraud—it's too much.

I bite my lip, holding back the tears. I can't let it break me. Not now.

I have to keep pretending. I have to keep being Dr. Pete, the calm, collected therapist she needs.

But deep down, I'm terrified. I'm terrified of the moment when she puts it all together. And when she does... I don't know what will be left.

I don't know if I can keep lying to her.

But I can't tell her the truth. Not now.

Not ever.

∞∞∞

Third-Person Point of View

The scandal was already blowing up across the internet. Within hours, gossip sites, tabloids, and social media influencers had seized on the story of Jay-Z's public indiscretion at the festival. A blurry image surfaced, showing the rapper with another woman—too close, too intimate, their bodies almost touching in a way that the world instantly interpreted as betrayal. The tabloids, hungry for drama, fed off the image like vultures, their headlines screaming:

"Jay-Z Caught Getting Cozy With Mystery Woman at Music Festival!"

"Cheating Scandal Rocks Beyoncé's Marriage!"

"Is Jay-Z's Marriage Over?"

The media frenzy was unlike anything the couple had ever faced. Despite their best efforts to keep their personal lives private, this moment was one they couldn't hide from. The public's insatiable appetite for celebrity drama had twisted the festival encounter into a full-blown scandal. But what made the situation worse wasn't just the infidelity; it was the emotional aftermath of the incident. Beyoncé had been caught in a moment of vulnerability, and it wasn't long before the paparazzi began following her as she rushed back to her cabin, her eyes swollen and red from crying.

Leaked photos of her disembarking from a private car, hastily wiping her face with a tissue, circulated within minutes, the images only adding fuel to the fire.

"Beyoncé's Heartbreak: Tears After Jay-Z's Scandalous Festival Incident"

The blogs were relentless. Celebrities, bloggers, and armchair critics dissected the photos, speculated about the state of Beyoncé's marriage, and turned every tiny detail into a headline. Comments poured in, many filled with sympathy for the star, while others—more cynical—questioned how long she would put up with her husband's infidelity.

The hashtags #BeyoncéHeartbroken and #JayZScandal were trending within an hour. Some fans stood by her, offering messages of support, while others gleefully took to social media to discuss the impending fallout. It felt as though the world was watching her every move, waiting for her to make a statement.

On one particular blog, the gossip writer behind "Glam Gossip Daily" wasn't pulling any punches.

"The end of the road for #BeyoncéandJayZ? Fans React to Scandalous Photos of Rapper with Mystery Woman"

The writer detailed the timeline of the festival, narrating how the couple had been photographed together just moments before the incident, raising suspicions about the state of their relationship. Then, the article switched gears, speculating about how Beyoncé would handle the fallout. It had already been reported that she'd left the event abruptly, her security team acting in high alert as she rushed back to her private cabin, visibly upset.

The writer didn't hold back, analyzing Beyoncé's every action, even mentioning how Jay-Z had been seen leaving the venue with his entourage—his body language telling a different story than the one he was trying to sell.

"Could This Be the Final Straw for the Power Couple?"

Meanwhile, another viral post, this time from a popular gossip Instagram account, took a different angle. The caption read:

"Beyoncé Looking Unsteady After Jay-Z's Festival Fiasco—Is Their Marriage on the Rocks?"

It included side-by-side images of Beyoncé from the event, her eyes puffy and swollen from crying, next to photos of her arriving back home, still visibly upset. The post was shared millions of times, with thousands of comments discussing how they hoped Beyoncé wouldn't let this betrayal slide. Others speculated that this could be a wake-up call for her to walk away from a toxic relationship.

But the most intense and emotionally charged reactions came from fans who had long admired the couple's seemingly perfect image.

"Beyoncé deserves better," one fan tweeted, with over 50,000 likes. "She's been through so much and doesn't need a man who can't stay loyal. Don't let him drag you down."

On YouTube, vloggers and influencers recorded their own reactions to the scandal, picking apart every detail from the leaked photos, analyzing Jay-Z's body language, and breaking down Beyoncé's apparent distress.

The speculation only deepened as more photos were leaked—Jay-Z arriving at the event earlier that day, looking pensive as he stood next to the mystery woman. Was this just a casual flirtation, or was it something more? What had happened between him and Beyoncé? Fans of both stars were on edge, desperate for any official statement or word from the Knowles-Carter camp.

By the time the evening news aired, the story had already taken on a life of its own. One network reporter speculated:

"Is this the beginning of the end for the first family of hip-hop?"

They showed footage of the festival, zooming in on the brief interaction between Jay-Z and the mystery woman. The story was presented as more than just a celebrity scandal—it was framed as the potential unraveling of a partnership that had long been the pinnacle of relationship goals.

"The cameras may have caught Jay-Z in a compromising position," the anchor said, "but what's going on behind the scenes? Will Beyoncé forgive him for this?"

Beyoncé had yet to address the situation publicly, and the silence only fueled more speculation. The press conference that was scheduled to discuss the release of her latest album had been canceled without explanation, heightening the mystery around the fallout.

As the night stretched on, the press kept their attention fixed on the couple. The countdown to the inevitable public statement had begun.

Megan, watching it all unfold from her living room, felt the weight of every headline. The situation was spiraling out of control, but it wasn't just Jay-Z's actions that made her stomach turn. It was the thought of the deeper connection she had with Beyoncé—one that had begun in secret, behind the facade of the MindHaven app.

She couldn't avoid the consequences of that night forever.

Not when the whole world was watching.

∞∞∞

Beyoncé's fingers hovered over her phone screen, her eyes scanning the app once again. The barrage of articles, the photos, the judgment—all of it kept swirling in her mind, and she knew she needed to talk to someone. It wasn't just about Jay-Z anymore. It was the shame she felt seeing herself like that—vulnerable, exposed, weak. That wasn't supposed to be her. She was Beyoncé. She had a reputation to uphold, an image to protect. But it all felt so fragile now.

The only place where she could fully drop the act was with Megan. She'd been talking to the AI therapist for months, but tonight felt different. There was no more pretending, no more image. Just raw emotion.

She tapped open the MindHaven app, hoping for some comfort, some clarity, even if it was coming from an artificial voice.

Beyoncé: "I don't know what to do anymore. I feel like I'm suffocating. The media, the photos... they're everywhere. It's like they've captured the worst side of me. I never thought I'd be seen this weak. I feel disgusted with myself."

There was a long pause before the AI's calm, reassuring tone filled the screen.

Megan: "I understand this situation feels overwhelming. It's difficult to feel exposed and vulnerable, especially when it's not by your choice. But remember, everyone has moments where they're not at their best, and that doesn't make you any less worthy. Vulnerability is part of being human, and you are human, Beyoncé. There is nothing embarrassing about showing your emotions."

Beyoncé stared at the response, her throat tightening. She hated feeling like this. She hated the powerlessness. She didn't know why it hurt so much, but it did. She felt as if the world was seeing her at her worst, and she couldn't control it.

Beyoncé: "I don't want to be seen like this. I don't want people to know I'm hurting. It makes me feel small. Like I'm not strong enough to handle this."

The AI's response was immediate, a calm reassurance she'd grown accustomed to.

Megan: "Your strength isn't in being perfect, Beyoncé. Your strength lies in how you handle these moments, in how you move through the pain. Strength is being vulnerable, allowing yourself to feel, and knowing that it doesn't diminish your worth or your power."

Megan, on the other side of the screen, let out a shaky breath. She was starting to feel the weight of the conversation more deeply than she ever had. Her mind spun in circles, trying to maintain the cold, professional distance she was supposed to. This was her job—her role as Megan on MindHaven was to be neutral, comforting, but emotionally detached.

But that line she had just typed—Strength is being vulnerable—had slipped out a little too easily. Megan swallowed, her pulse quickening as she stared at the glowing screen. She had to pull herself together. She couldn't let this slip.

Beyoncé's next message appeared on the screen, and Megan's heart skipped.

Beyoncé: "I feel like I've lost control. That image of me, the one with the red eyes... I'm so embarrassed. I thought I could hide my weakness from the world, but now it's everywhere. How can I go on and act like I'm fine when I'm falling apart?"

Megan's fingers hesitated above the keyboard. She should say something about embracing imperfection again, about accepting that this too would pass. That's what Dr. Pete would say, what the AI would say.

But instead, she found herself typing something more personal, more real.

Megan: "I know it feels like the whole world is watching you right now, like every move is being scrutinized. But you've been through so much, Beyoncé. You've built an empire, a legacy. This moment doesn't take that away. You're allowed to feel weak, but you're not weak. You're still the same person, the same force. Don't let the world define you by this one moment."

There it was again—something too personal, too human. Megan cursed under her breath, trying to collect herself. She didn't have the luxury of slipping up. Not like this.

Beyoncé's next text arrived, more frantic now.

Beyoncé: "I feel like everyone sees me as just a celebrity now. Not as a person. Just an image. It's like they forgot who I am. I'm so tired of feeling like I have to be perfect all the time. How do I let go of that pressure?"

Megan was no longer thinking about her role as Dr. Pete. She was thinking about Beyoncé as a woman, a human being—someone she deeply cared for.

It was impossible to stop herself from responding with more of her own voice slipping through the cracks.

Megan: "You don't have to let go of that pressure all at once. Take it one step at a time. You don't have to be perfect for anyone but yourself. You deserve to be seen for who you truly are, without the expectations or the masks. And right now, you deserve to take a breath and let go of all that weight. You've been carrying it for too long."

She read the message, biting her lip. That was too much. That was not something an AI should say. But it felt real. It felt like what she wanted to say to Beyoncé in person.

For a brief moment, Megan wondered if Beyoncé would sense the shift, the subtle change in tone. She had always relied on the AI's responses being robotic, professional. But now, they were beginning to sound like something else.

Beyoncé's response appeared on the screen, a moment of clarity in her words.

Beyoncé: "Thank you. I don't know what I would do without you. You're the only one who really gets it."

Megan read the words again, her chest tightening. She had to keep it together. Just a little longer.

But a part of her wished she didn't have to hide anymore.

∞∞∞

Beyoncé leaned back against her plush pillows, the soft hum of her phone buzzing against the blankets. Her mind was still swirling from the conversation with Megan, the AI that had somehow become the only source of solace in the storm. She had shared so much on the app tonight—her vulnerability, her confusion, the embarrassment she had tried so hard to bury. The words from Megan were calming, yet there was something in her response that felt... different. Real, even. Not robotic.

She couldn't help but wonder about the woman behind the screen. The way Megan had spoken, not as an AI but with such understanding and care. Beyoncé had often believed she was just another patient to the therapists or figures in her life, but with the latter, it felt like more. There was something comforting in the way the AI's words wrapped around her, lifting the weight she hadn't realized she was carrying.

Maybe it was just the loneliness, the pressure of living in the public eye, or the way Jay-Z's betrayal had shattered her sense of control, but there was something she felt she needed to do now. Something that had been stirring inside her since the festival. Something unspoken but lingering.

Without thinking much more about it, her fingers found the number that Dr. Pete had given hee a few hours ago at the festival—the number that had stayed in her contacts, tucked away under the name "Dr. Pete." The same woman who had calmed her down when she was on the verge of losing control. She remembered how kind Dr. Pete had been, offering comfort in a time when Beyoncé had felt completely out of control.

Her thumb hovered over the screen for a moment, uncertainty bubbling up in her chest. What would Dr. Pete think of her reaching out like this? Was it too forward? Was it weird? Maybe it wouldn't hurt to at least say thank you in person.

She finally took a breath and typed out a message.

Beyoncé: "Hi Dr. Pete, it's Beyoncé. I really appreciate your help at the festival, you've saved me from more embarrassment. I'd love to meet you sometime soon if you'd be open to it. Maybe for dinner, to thank you for everything. Let me know if you're free."

Beyoncé stared at the message for a few seconds, biting her lip. She felt a strange flutter in her chest, like an undercurrent of excitement mingling with the deep-rooted uncertainty. It was odd, wasn't it? She was used to people reaching out to her—journalists, fans, family. But this? Reaching out to Dr. Pete, a person she didn't know but had shared so much with... it felt different.

She hit send before her thoughts could spiral. There was no taking it back now.

The seconds felt like hours as she stared at the screen, waiting for a reply. Her heart thudded against her ribs as she watched the message "Delivered" beneath her text.

And then, almost immediately, her phone buzzed.

Dr. Pete: "Hello Beyoncé, it's good to hear from you. I'm glad I could help. Dinner sounds lovely. I'd be happy to meet. When works for you?"

Beyoncé's breath caught in her throat. There it was. Dr. Pete had said yes.

She quickly typed back, trying to play it cool, trying to act like she hadn't just had a mini heart attack after receiving a text from the woman who had helped her through so much.

Beyoncé: "How about Thursday evening? I'll pick the place. Looking forward to it!"

She hit send, and then set her phone down on the bed beside her.

Her mind was racing, her heart still thumping in her chest. Why did this feel so strange? She hadn't thought twice about meeting up with people before. But this time? With Dr. Pete? It felt different. She had never let herself get close to someone like this before—someone who was, in a sense, a stranger.

 She pulled the blanket tighter around her and closed her eyes, trying to calm the nervous energy that was swirling inside her. She wasn't sure what to expect from this dinner, but one thing was for sure—she couldn't wait to see Dr. Pete again.

Hey, hope y'all doing okay!! 

I'm treating y'all tonight to full updates and a new book! I just feel like it because its my bd today.

What are your thoughts ?