Number one.

It had gone straight to number one in the charts - and not just in the USA, but in sixteen other countries. Her performance at the Grammys was being dubbed the 'comeback of the century' by various media outlets and she'd found herself performing it non-stop on award shows since.

It was nice.

It was also a very nice distraction from the reminder that she no longer had the love of her life.

Leia was beginning to sound like a broken record again, and her close friends were now officially growing tired of it. Georgie had asked her to either shut up about Taylor or just tell the blonde how she was really feeling... and well, they all knew that Leia was never going to do that.

Her supposedly quiet April that Riven had planned had been turned into a non-stop media circus. There was no more 'easing her into it', but rather throwing themselves fifty miles an hour at a brick wall and hoping they somehow phased through to the other side. And to be fair, she had to give it to Riven - it had worked.

She'd had very little time to mope around about the seemingly forever future that was awaiting Taylor and Joe, since she'd had little time to do much else than travel, sleep and wonder if she was hated or loved by the Universe.

Standard things.

To be honest, she'd not really spoken too much to Taylor either. They'd texted back and forth a few times and Gigi had slowly started to get their old group chat coming back to life, but other than that, it was pretty quiet on that front. Leia knew why, but she didn't want to think about it. Taylor wasn't in New York, so Leia wasn't on her mind. That was her easy solution, as to why Taylor wasn't messaging her often.

Even with her newfound success, Leia found herself caught in the familiar push and pull of the industry's demands. By late April, she had settled into a rhythm of sorts - interviews in the morning, studio sessions in the afternoon, and the occasional evening event that had her stumbling back to her apartment well past midnight, feet aching and voice raw.

She was sober still.

Tonight was one of those rare evenings at home. Her apartment in New York felt both foreign and familiar after weeks on the road. Georgie had flown back to London for a friend's birthday, leaving Leia to rattle around the space alone, surrounded by half-unpacked suitcases and forgotten coffee mugs.

The clock on her microwave blinked 11:43 PM as she padded across the hardwood floors, the city lights casting long shadows through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Outside, New York hummed with its perpetual energy, oblivious to her quiet solitude within these walls.

Leia sank onto her couch, wincing as her muscles protested. The day's recording session had been particularly gruelling - Jack pushing her through take after take until her throat felt scraped raw. But the results had been worth it. The new track was coming together beautifully, something with a little more edge than 'ends well' but equally catchy.

She reached for her phone, scrolling mindlessly through social media notifications. The response to her comeback continued to overwhelm her... fan theories about her lyrics, articles analysing her every move and an endless stream of comments expressing how much they'd missed her voice.

It felt nice to be in the news for something good for once.

It was strange, this rebirth. Sometimes she still felt like that girl from three years ago, wide-eyed and drowning in her own mistakes. Other times, she barely recognised herself in the mirror. She was more guarded, more deliberate, wearing her experiences like armour.

A little less innocent. A lot less happy.

Leia's phone buzzed against her thigh, startling her from her thoughts. She'd been staring at the same Instagram post for several minutes, not really seeing it, her mind wandering through the labyrinth of her new reality. With a sigh, she glanced down at the notification, expecting another message from Riven about tomorrow's schedule or perhaps Georgie checking in from London.

I miss us.

Well, fuck.

Leia's breath caught in her throat, her fingers suddenly clumsy as she fumbled to unlock her phone. The message sat there, stark against the white background of their text thread, the last exchange from weeks ago buried beneath it. No context, no explanation - just those three words hanging in digital space between them.

I miss us.

She read it again, staring at the grey bubble as if it was going to just disappear at any second.

The lowercase letters, the lack of punctuation - so unlike her usual careful texting style. The rawness of the sentiment, unadorned and direct. She glanced at the time stamp: 11:47 PM in New York meant...

"Four in the morning," Leia whispered to her empty apartment, the realisation washing over her like cold water.

It was 4 AM in London. Where Taylor was. With Joe.

And she was fucking drunk texting her ex.

Something twisted in Leia's chest - a familiar ache sharpened by understanding. She knew this pattern, had lived it before. The late-night messages when inhibitions were lowered, when the careful walls came down, when alcohol made truth easier to spill.

She thought of Taylor, probably curled up in that London townhouse she shared with Joe, wine glass empty beside her, the soft glow of her phone illuminating her face in the darkness. Had they fought? Was she lonely? Was Joe asleep in the next room, unaware of the message his girlfriend had just sent to her ex?

Or were they at some club? Was she texting Leia in between open mouthed kisses that he was leaving on her skin? Was she the one kissing him?

Leia's stomach churned at the thought. She set her phone face-down on the coffee table, pushing it away as if it might burn her. Three words. Three simple words that threatened to unravel the fragile peace she'd constructed these past months.

"Not doing this," she muttered, standing abruptly. "Not again."

She moved to the kitchen, filled a glass with water, and drank it in long, desperate gulps. The cool liquid did nothing to ease the heat rising in her chest. Her reflection in the darkened window looked haunted, auburn hair falling in messy waves around her face, eyes too bright in the dim light.

The phone buzzed again from the coffee table.

Leia froze, water glass suspended halfway to the sink. She could ignore it. She should ignore it. Let Taylor wake up tomorrow with a hangover and the embarrassment of an unanswered message. Let her wonder and worry and feel a fraction of what Leia had felt these past years.

I shouldn't have said that.

Leia let out a humorless laugh. Of course. The classic Taylor follow-up – drop an emotional bomb, then immediately try to defuse it. Some things never changed.

As she stared at the screen, three dots appeared. Taylor was typing more. Leia's heart hammered against her ribs as she waited, thumb hovering over the keyboard, unsure whether to respond or simply watch this unfold.

The dots disappeared. Then reappeared. Disappeared again.

"Come on," Leia whispered. "Just say it."

I'm not drunk if that's what you're thinking. Just can't sleep. Your song came on shuffle.

What version of "us" did Taylor miss? The early days, when everything was secret smiles and hidden touches? The middle, when they built their own world behind closed doors? Or the end, bitter and raw, when they tore each other apart with words they couldn't take back?

Her phone dimmed, then darkened in her hand. Leia pressed the home button, bringing the message back to life. She should be sleeping. She had a 7 AM call time tomorrow, another interview where she'd have to smile and deflect questions about her personal life while promoting her music.

Sorry.

The single word appeared, somehow more devastating than the first message. Leia could picture Taylor's face - the slight furrow between her brows, lower lip caught between her teeth, the way she always looked when she was embarrassed or uncertain.

Leia's thumb hovered over the keyboard again, her mind racing through a dozen possible responses, each one more dangerous than the last.

Instead, she set the phone down with deliberate care, as if handling something explosive.

"Not tonight," she whispered to herself, pressing her palms against her eyes until stars burst behind her eyelids.

The phone buzzed again. Leia didn't turn to look.

She knew what she wanted to send: You don't get to text me at four AM from his bed. You don't get to do that to me.

She moved through her apartment with purposeful steps, leaving her phone on the coffee table. In the bathroom, she washed her face with cold water, the shock of it grounding her in the present moment. Once in her bedroom, she pulled back the covers of her unmade bed. The sheets were cool against her skin as she slid between them, her body heavy with a weariness that transcended physical exhaustion.

She could still hear her phone buzzing occasionally from the living room - Taylor, persistent as always. The sound seemed to echo through her apartment, each vibration a small earthquake threatening the foundations she'd rebuilt.

"She's probably just lonely," Leia murmured to the ceiling. "Or bored. Or fighting with him."

The sheets smelled of lavender detergent and faintly of the perfume she wore – not the one Taylor had once loved on her skin. She'd thrown that bottle away months ago, watching the amber liquid swirl down the drain, taking memories with it.

Was she staring at her phone, waiting for Leia's response? Was she curled against Joe's sleeping form, guilt and longing on her face?

"You don't get to miss us," Leia murmured to the empty room, anger beginning to simmer beneath her exhaustion as she allowed herself to finally fall asleep.

The following morning, Leia woke early. The city outside her windows was still half-asleep, the sky just beginning to shift from navy to pale grey. She lay still for a moment, eyes open, heartbeat steady. She didn't need to check her phone to know the messages would still be there.

Instead, she sat up slowly, wrapped herself in one of Georgie's oversized sweatshirts, and wandered barefoot into the kitchen. The apartment was quiet, heavy with the weight of unspoken words and unsent replies.

She made coffee, hands moving on autopilot, but her thoughts were sharp now, no longer dulled by exhaustion or emotion. There was a clarity to the morning that the night hadn't offered. Taylor's texts hadn't been cruel. They hadn't even been manipulative, really.

But they had been selfish.

It wasn't about the messages itself. It was the fact that they came at all.

Leia sat at the counter, nursing her mug, the bitter heat of the drink grounding her. She thought about all the times she had waited - for a text, for a call, for permission to be what Taylor never could fully let her be. The limbo. The middle ground.

The ache of being wanted but never chosen.

_____

Leia had made things awkward again.

Well, really, Taylor had done that by sending those messages.

Her lack of response had been taken loud and clear by Taylor: Leia Hudson did not appreciate the late night emotional messages, and that Taylor had well and truly fucked up.

And now, three weeks later, Leia found herself in London for the 2021 Brit Awards, nursing a glass of champagne she hadn't touched, while Riven hovered protectively at her side. The O2 Arena buzzed with pre-show excitement, a kaleidoscope of designer gowns and tailored suits swirling beneath the elaborate lighting setup.

Somewhere here, was Taylor.

Tree and Riven had tried to patch the tension between them but with both girls refusing to explain why they'd suddenly stopped speaking again, it was pretty difficult. Taylor hadn't told anyone about those messages - Leia wasn't surprised, she'd always been her favourite secret - and Leia was too frustrated to even tell any of her friends.

"You're at Table 14," Riven said, consulting his phone. "With one of the three remaining Little Mix girls. Should be fun - they've always liked you but I don't think you've ever officially met."

"Which one?" Leia asked, adjusting the strap of her black gown. The fabric whispered against her skin, cool and sleek, the high slit revealing a flash of leg with each step.

"Jade," he replied, and Leia nodded. The Little Mix girls were good company - professional enough to understand the industry's demands, yet relaxed enough to make the evening bearable. She could handle this. She could smile for the cameras, applaud politely, and maybe even enjoy herself a little.

Avoid Taylor, smile and perform and get the fuck out of there.

Easy.

"Your performance slot is right after the International Female Solo Artist category," Riven continued, checking his watch. "So you'll need to slip out during the commercial break before that to get ready."

"Got it."

Leia took a deep breath, inhaling the mingled scents of expensive perfume, hairspray, and anticipation that filled the air. She'd performed 'ends well' so many times in the last two months that it lived in her muscle memory, yet tonight felt different. Heavier. More significant.

Perhaps because she knew Taylor was here.

She hadn't seen her yet - had deliberately avoided scanning the crowd too thoroughly - but the knowledge of her presence hummed beneath Leia's skin like an electric current. Three weeks of silence since those texts. Three weeks of Leia composing responses in her head during sleepless nights, only to delete them all by morning light.

Three weeks of contemplating that Taylor was still choosing Joe over her.

"Let's get you seated," Riven said, placing a gentle hand on her elbow. "The show starts in twenty."

They weaved through the crowd, Leia smiling and nodding at familiar faces. She caught snippets of conversation, bursts of laughter, the occasional flash of a camera. The room was a living, breathing entity, pulsing with ambition and anxiety in equal measure.

Just as they approached the table, a harried-looking woman with a headset and clipboard materialised before them, her face flushed with the particular brand of stress unique to live television events.

"Ms. Hudson?" The woman's eyes darted between Leia and Riven, clipboard clutched to her chest like a shield. "I'm Melissa, one of the show runners. There's been a change to the seating arrangements."

Leia felt Riven stiffen beside her.

"We confirmed her table assignment yesterday," he said, his tone professionally polite but edged with wariness.

Melissa nodded rapidly, her earpiece crackling with static.

"Yes, I know, but we've had to make some last-minute adjustments. Network request." She gestured toward the front of the venue. "You've been moved to Table 3, near the stage. For camera angles during your nomination announcements."

"That's fine," Leia said, offering a reassuring smile to both Melissa and Riven. "Near the stage makes sense for my performance anyway."

Table 3 was draped in the same pristine white cloth as the others, but its position granted a perfect view of the stage's sweeping architecture. Two of the chairs were already occupied, and Leia recognised the centre figure immediately – Olivia Rodrigo, this year's breakout star, dressed in a deep black and lace dress that complemented her dark hair. The girl was chatting animatedly with who Leia assumed was her own PR manager, but looked up as Leia approached.

She knew of the girl, but this was the first time they'd ever met. Her single drivers license had been stuck on Leia's playlists all year.

"Oh my god," Olivia breathed, her eyes widening. "You're Leia Hudson."

"Olivia Rodrigo," Leia replied with a soft smile.

"I love your music."

"You're too kind," Leia replied, settling into the empty chair beside her. The compliment was genuine, she could tell, not just the reflexive flattery that so often passed for conversation at these events.

Riven took the seat on Leia's other side, immediately pulling out his phone to check messages. The familiar tap of his fingers against the screen created a comforting rhythm beside her, a small anchor in the swirling social current of the room.

The lights dimmed briefly, then brightened again – a five-minute warning. Around them, the remaining attendees hurried to find their seats, a final flurry of movement before the broadcast began.

Still no Taylor.

Maybe Riven was wrong. Maybe she wasn't coming.

And maybe, just maybe, the Universe absolutely did hate her after all - because why was Tree Paine suddenly walking towards her when she looked up?

And behind her, like an apparition made flesh, was Taylor.

The sight of her knocked the air from Leia's lungs. Taylor was dressed in a cropped two-piece ensemble, the delicate beadwork catching the light with every breath she took. Her blonde hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and her signature red lip stood out starkly against her pale skin. She looked tired around the eyes - the kind of fatigue that makeup could only partially disguise. The kind of tired that only really Leia could see.

Their gazes locked for a fraction of a second, and Leia watched as a kaleidoscope of emotions flickered across Taylor's face - surprise, uncertainty, and something else Leia couldn't quite name.

Good, it wasn't just her that was surprised at this.

"Leia," Tree said, her voice pleasantly neutral as she approached. "Lovely to see you again. Looking forward to your performance later."

"Nice to see you too, Tree."

Taylor hovered half a step behind her publicist, fingers fidgeting with the thin gold bracelet on her wrist. The awkwardness between them stretched taut like a wire.

"Hi," Taylor finally said, the single syllable carrying the weight of their unfinished conversation from three weeks ago.

"Hey," Leia returned, equally inadequate.

The tension might have stretched unbearably if not for Olivia, who practically vibrated with excitement beside Leia.

"Hello!" Olivia's voice rose with genuine enthusiasm. "I didn't know we'd be at the same table!"

Taylor's face softened immediately, her smile warming as she turned to the younger artist.

"Olivia! It's so good to see you." She moved around the table to give Olivia a quick hug. "Your album is absolutely incredible. I've had it on repeat."

Leia watched the exchange, feeling strangely outside of herself. How many times had she seen Taylor like this - gracious and genuine with other artists, her smile reaching her eyes, her compliments never feeling rehearsed?

She almost forgot she was mad at her.

Next to her, Riven visibly cringed as he looked between them and turned back to the conversation he was having with Tree, the redhead having sat herself down beside him without much thought.

"We were moved table too," Tree explained to Riven, her voice professional but with an undercurrent of discomfort. "The network wanted more... star power at the front tables for the broadcast."

Leia kept her mouth shut, but she understood that. Usually this even had thousands of industry guests... this year it was minimal. A handful of tables, just like the Grammy's had been. Leia took a slow, deliberate breath, willing her expression to remain neutral.

Taylor took the seat directly beside from her, the centrepiece arrangement of white roses and silver accents failing to keep continuing to now create a barrier between them.

The lights dimmed again, this time staying low as the host's voice boomed through the arena. Camera operators scurried into position, their equipment gliding silently across the polished floor. Leia felt rather than saw Taylor's gaze on her face, knowing that as soon as the broadcast started, she'd remove her gaze.

"You look amazing," Taylor said quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the swell of orchestral music signaling the show's beginning. Her eyes flickered over Leia's gown, lingering briefly on the exposed curve of her shoulder.

"Thanks," Leia replied, taking a sip of water to buy herself time. "You too. The beadwork is beautiful."

Olivia looked between them from her seat beside Taylor, a smile on her face but curiosity in her eyes. For great friends, there was certainly an awkward vibe here.

Small talk. They were reduced to small talk, these two women who had once whispered secrets and dreams and fears to each other in the darkness.

The broadcast officially began, the host's jokes eliciting polite laughter from the audience. Leia clapped at appropriate moments, smiled when the camera panned to their table after a joke about her new single knocking Olivia off the top spot, and tried desperately not to notice how Taylor's fingers continued to twist that bracelet around and around.

"You haven't been answering my texts," Taylor murmured during a commercial break, her voice carefully controlled. Around them, conversations buzzed, providing a curtain of white noise.

Leia met her eyes directly for the first time since the show had started. "No, I haven't."

"I shouldn't have messaged you like that. I know that."

"Do you really think right now is the best time to have this conversation?" The question slipped out before Leia could stop it, harsher than she intended. Louder too, perhaps, as Tree and Riven both stopped their conversation to turn to look at where the two were sitting, looking tense.

Taylor's expression flickered, hurt and frustration battling beneath her carefully maintained composure. The air between them seemed to thicken, charged with unspoken words and simmering emotions.

"I'm not trying to..." Taylor began, her voice dropping lower, the words meant only for Leia. She leaned closer, the delicate scent of her perfume, vanilla and jasmine and something uniquely her, washing over Leia like a memory made tangible. "I just thought we could at least talk about -"

"Okay!"

Tree's voice hissed through their tension like a whip crack, deceptively cheerful, though her expression was anything but light. She was suddenly leaning across the table and between them, smiling just wide enough to look pleasant on camera, but her eyes were sharp and deadly focused.

"I don't know what exactly is going on between you two," she began, her voice pitched low enough that only their table could hear her, "and frankly, I don't want to know. But unless one of you is about to announce a surprise single called 'Awkward Silence (feat. Your Ex)', I suggest you both put it away."

Taylor blinked up at her, surprised. Leia felt her spine straighten, like she'd just been caught passing notes in class. They were both incredibly grateful that Olivia had stepped away from their table to chat with one of the other artists during this break.

Tree glanced between them again, lowering her voice another notch.

"There are at least thirty cameras in this room, including two roving ones that have been circling your table for the last ten minutes. I don't care if you're arguing about a text message or the molecular structure of heartbreak, if you don't both start smiling and playing the part of civil, friendly colleagues, the media is going to tear into this before the night is over."

Leia opened her mouth like she might object, but Riven raised a hand.

"Nope. I'm not doing this with you again," Riven snapped, noticing that she was about to argue back. "We barely survived the past twelve months, and I am too young, too tired, and nowhere near enough to retirement to survive 'Feuds at the Brits' trending by midnight. Smile. Clap. Laugh if you must. Leia, you literally need to be getting ready to on stage during the next break. Please just be civil until then."

"Fine," she murmured, forcing her features into something resembling neutrality. Beside her, Taylor seemed to be going through a similar internal struggle, her fingers finally stilling on that bracelet.

The lights dimmed again, signaling the end of the commercial break. The host returned to the stage with renewed energy, announcing the next presenters. Leia shifted in her seat, angling her body slightly away from Taylor, creating what distance she could in the confined space.

"And the nominees for International Female Solo Artist are..."

Leia forced herself to focus on the screen where the nominations were being displayed. A number of familiar faces flashed - and Taylor's, of course. The camera panned across their table, capturing Taylor's gracious smile and Leia's carefully composed expression as she forced a smile on her face too.

Leia leaned slightly toward Taylor, her smile camera-ready.

"Good luck," she murmured, meaning it despite everything.

Taylor's eyes met hers, surprise flickering across her face before softening into something like gratitude. "Thank you."

"And the winner is... Taylor Swift!"

The room erupted in applause. Olivia, who had returned to their table just in time for the announcement, squealed with delight beside Taylor. Leia clapped politely, her smile fixed in place as Taylor rose from her seat, smoothing her outfit with slightly trembling hands.

Before heading to the stage, Taylor paused, her hand briefly touching Leia's shoulder – a fleeting connection, warm through the fabric of her gown.

Then Taylor was making her way to the stage, her composure returning with each step, transforming into the poised, gracious artist the world adored.

"Thank you so much," Taylor began, her voice warm and steady as she accepted the award. "This means the world to me... The Brits have always been so kind to me, and I'm truly grateful."

She launched into her acceptance speech, thanking her team, her fans, the other nominees. As Taylor continued her speech, Leia felt Riven's light touch on her arm.

"Almost time to go," he whispered. "They need you backstage for sound check before your performance."

Leia nodded, grateful for the escape.

"...and I want to thank all the incredible women in my life," Taylor was now saying, her gaze sweeping across the room and settling on Leia's face for a moment.

Leia blinked.

"The women who have inspired me, challenged me, and sometimes..." Taylor paused, her fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around the award, "...the ones who have written songs that cut straight to my heart."

A small, vulnerable smile played at the corners of her mouth. Leia wanted to throw up.

"Leia Hudson - your voice has been the soundtrack to so many moments in my life. Your courage to put your truth into your music has pushed me to be more honest in mine. Thank you for that gift."

The words hung in the air like suspended crystal, catching the light, refracting it in a thousand different directions. Leia felt the weight of hundreds of eyes turning toward her, felt the subtle shift of camera lenses adjusting to capture her reaction.

Her face burned hot. This wasn't part of the script. This wasn't supposed to happen. She'd acknowledged her. Not just as a fellow artist, but as someone who mattered. Someone who had shaped her.

Across the table, Tree's expression remained perfectly placid, but Leia could see the slight widening of her eyes, the only tell that this hadn't been planned.

"And to all my fans," Taylor continued smoothly, transitioning back to safer ground, "you continue to astound me with your kindness and support. This award belongs to you as much as it does to me."

The applause swelled again as Taylor finished, gracefully exiting the stage with award in hand. Leia managed to maintain her composure, her smile fixed in place even as her mind whirled with the implications of what had just happened.

"We need to go. Now," Riven whispered urgently, already half-rising from his seat. "Your performance is up in ten minutes."

She slipped away from the table during the transition, following Riven through the labyrinthine backstage corridors of the O2. The sounds of the ceremony faded behind them, replaced by the controlled chaos of production assistants, sound technicians, and stage managers hurrying to keep the show running smoothly.

"What the hell was that?" Riven finally said once they were safely enclosed in her dressing room, his voice tight with a mixture of concern and exasperation.

"Riven, I think I'm going to throw up."

"No, you are NOT!"

"No, Riv, I don't -"

"Leia Hudson, look at me-"

"No, Riv, I don't mean like that," Leia pressed a hand to her stomach, taking deep breaths. "I literally feel sick. What the fuck was that? We're literally not speaking right now? Why would she-"

"I don't know," Riven said, his voice softening as he recognised genuine distress on her face. "And I don't know why you're both arguing with each other or what about. But right now, we don't have time to analyse it. You have seven minutes before you're on that stage."

Leia nodded, swallowing hard against the knot in her throat. She moved to the dressing table, where her outfit was already waiting, hands flying to get changed and put in her in-ears.

"I don't understand why she would do that," Leia murmured, more to herself than to Riven. "Why now? Why like this?"

"Because she's Taylor Swift and dramatic gestures are her love language," Riven replied dryly, checking his watch. "Five minutes."

"She's not in love with me, she's in love with Joe. Joe, who-"

Leia cut herself off this time. Riven rubbed at his head in annoyance, almost as if this entire thing was giving him a headache.

"Joe, who she's probably texting right now to explain why she just name-dropped her ex in an acceptance speech... and not him," Leia finished, her voice tight. "Why did she mention me but not him?"

"Four minutes," Riven said, handing her a bottle of water. "Drink. Focus. You can have your existential crisis after you perform."

She should've been focusing on the performance. This was the Brits. The stage was iconic, the audience global. Her number one single, her career-defining comeback, was about to be watched by millions. And yet... all she could think about was Taylor's voice echoing in her head.

Leia Hudson – your voice has been the soundtrack to so many moments in my life.

How dare she say that now. How dare she, when she had Leia's number and didn't use it for three weeks. How dare she bring her mind back into another spiral again - publicly, unmistakably, when Leia hadn't even had a chance to breathe.

"Two minutes," came a voice from outside the dressing room.

Leia stood. Riven adjusted her mic pack, checked the fit of her in-ears, and gave her a once-over like a soldier going into battle. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. She didn't look confused as she felt inside. She looked sharp. Dangerous.

"You're going to kill it," Riven said firmly, placing his hands on her shoulders. "You always do."

Leia nodded once. "Let's go."

___

She kind of had grown to be nervous of after-parties, with her history considered. They were a place with unlimited power, money and alcohol... which often meant the chances of the other stuff being present in some way or another was significantly higher than just your average night out.

It was the perfect excuse to ditch. Tell Riven that she wasn't feeling great, like mentally and physically.

Unfortunately, the man could see right through her.

"You're going," Riven said firmly as he ushered her into the sleek black car waiting outside the O2. "Your performance was flawless. Critics are already raving. #LeiaHudsonBrits is trending worldwide. You've earned this celebration, and we both know you're only not wanting to go to avoid speaking to Taylor - which, by the way, you've still not explained to me."

He was right, she'd refused to explain why there had been significant tension between them. How could she tell him abut those texts and not sound ridiculously hung up on her ex?

Leia sank into the leather seat, still riding the adrenaline high from her performance. She eyed the driver in the front, missing Azul. The man had taken some leave to visit his family and Leia figured she owed him enough in life to let him have some time off.

"One drink," Riven said, his tone brooking no argument as he slid into the back of the waiting car next to her. "One appearance. Twenty minutes. Then we're out."

"Fine," she conceded, watching London's lights blur past the tinted windows. "Twenty minutes. Not a second more."

The after-party was being held at some exclusive members' club in Mayfair - all dark wood, velvet upholstery, and carefully cultivated exclusivity. As they approached, Leia could already see the flashing cameras capturing arrivals, the security guards screening guests with practiced efficiency.

"Remember," Riven murmured as their car joined the queue, "smile, be gracious, avoid drama -"

"I never said -"

"- and for the love of God, if Taylor approaches you, just be civil. No dramatic exits, no public confrontations," Riven replied, ignoring her objection. "Go back to staring at her like a lost puppy at the Grammys, if you must."

Leia shot him a withering look. "I'm not sixteen, Riv."

"No, but sometimes you act like it when she's involved."

She couldn't argue with that. Not when her pulse was already quickening at the mere possibility of seeing Taylor again. Not when her mind kept replaying those words from the acceptance speech, turning them over like puzzle pieces that didn't quite fit.

Inside, the party was already in full swing. The music pulsed at a volume that allowed conversation but discouraged eavesdropping. Celebrities and industry executives clustered in groups, champagne flutes and cocktail glasses catching the light from the ornate chandeliers overhead.

"I'm getting that drink now," Leia said, making a beeline for the bar before Riven could object.

Drinking was something that she tried to regulate a little. Truth be told, she'd been terrified when she had her first drink after leaving rehab, even though it had never been a concern before. Her team in there had drilled into her about the dangers of going from a drug addiction to an alcohol addiction, and it honestly had scarred her to death.

Thankfully, she hadn't found that to be a concern. Didn't make Riven worry any less.

The bartender recognised her immediately, his professional smile widening.

"Ms. Hudson, congratulations on your performance. What can I get you?"

She missed being no-one sometimes.

"Soda water with lime, please." The words left her mouth automatically, surprising even herself. Riven, who had appeared at her side, raised an eyebrow.

"Thought you wanted that one drink," he commented as the bartender prepared her order.

Leia didn't respond to Riven's comment. She just took the glass and sipped from it, eyes already scanning the room out of habit. Not for anyone in particular, of course.

And then she saw her.

Taylor was across the room, standing with a small group near a velvet couch, a glass of red wine in her hand. She looked almost exactly the same as she had on stage, but softer somehow — her heels off, her bracelet finally still, her face less guarded. As if the moment she stepped off stage, some weight had been lifted.

And then Taylor's eyes found hers.

Leia looked away immediately, her pulse jumping. She turned slightly on her stool, pretending to be deeply engrossed in whatever Riven was muttering beside her about social media stats. But she could feel it. That familiar weight of Taylor's attention, like sunlight on her skin even when she didn't want to feel warm.

She hoped Tree would intercept her. She hoped someone would.

No one did.

Taylor appeared at her side just as Leia was setting her empty glass back on the bar. Her voice was quiet but firm.

"Can we talk?"

Leia blinked at her, heart hammering as she turned to face her. Taylor's expression was unreadable — not pleading, not apologetic, just... steady.

"Here?" Leia asked, gesturing to the crowded room.

Taylor shook her head. "No. Somewhere quieter."

Leia hesitated. She could say no. She should say no. But her legs were already moving.

"Riven," she said over her shoulder, "I'll be right back."

Taylor led her through a narrow corridor at the back of the club. A security guard gave them a nod and opened a side door without question, revealing a private lounge area. It was dimly lit, luxurious and mostly empty, save for a few stray glasses on a table and the lingering scent of someone's perfume.

As soon as the door shut behind them, Leia turned.

"Why did you send those messages?"

Taylor's brows knit. "I was going to ask if I could explain that."

Leia folded her arms. "Then go ahead."

Taylor took a breath, looked down at her shoes, then back up at Leia. "I didn't plan it. That night, your song came on, and I just... I couldn't stop thinking about us. About you."

Leia laughed softly, humourless. "At four in the morning. While lying next to your boyfriend, I presume."

Taylor winced. "No. He wasn't home that night."

Leia's jaw tightened. "That doesn't make it better."

"I know," Taylor said, her voice quieter now. "But it was honest. I missed you."

"You missed me," Leia repeated, voice sharp now. "And then what? You wake up, you feel guilty, and you ghost me for three weeks? Until you're suddenly accepting an award in front of the entire world and decide to name-drop me for bonus drama points?"

"That wasn't what that was," Taylor said quickly. "I meant it."

"You always mean it, Taylor," Leia shot back. "And then you go right back to pretending we're just friends."

"Taylor, I've been trying so hard to be your friend. To play this part. But I can't do it if you keep giving me mixed signals. If you want to be friends, then be my friend. Don't text me in the middle of the night saying you miss us. Don't look at me like that. Don't say my name like it still means something."

Taylor's face crumpled slightly, her façade breaking. "It still does mean something."

Leia stepped back. "Then stop pretending I'm just some girl who used to matter to you."

The silence stretched between them. For a moment, the thud of music through the wall was the only sound.

Taylor's voice was quiet. "I'm not pretending."

Leia didn't respond right away. Her jaw was clenched, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest. She felt raw. Exposed.

The silence between them seemed to fold in on itself, condensing into something tangible in the dimly lit room. Leia studied Taylor's face... the delicate curve of her jawline, the slight tremble in her lower lip, the vulnerability in her eyes that she so rarely allowed the world to see.

"What do you want from me, Taylor?" Leia finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Because I can't keep doing this dance. I can't keep pretending that every time you look at me, it doesn't feel like the ground is shifting beneath my feet."

Taylor took a step closer, the dim light catching on the beadwork of her outfit.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she admitted, the words hanging in the small space between them. "I just know that I can't stop thinking about you. About us."

"There is no us," Leia said, but the words lacked conviction. "There's you and Joe. And there's me, trying to rebuild my life after..."

She trailed off. It didn't need to be brought back up. The truth of whatever this encounter was, was written in every careful inch of space she maintained between them, in the way her fingers curled into her palms to keep from reaching out.

"I shouldn't have texted you that night," Taylor continued, her voice steadier now. "But I can't regret it either. Because it was true. I do miss us. I miss the way you used to look at me like I was the only person in the room. I miss the way you'd play me new songs before anyone else heard them. I miss falling asleep next to you and waking up to find you writing in that little notebook you kept by the bed."

"Stop," Leia whispered, but it wasn't clear if she was talking to Taylor or to herself.

Taylor was close enough now that Leia could smell her perfume, could see the flutter of her pulse at the base of her throat. Outside, the party continued, oblivious to the storm brewing in this quiet room.

"I can't stop," Taylor said, her voice breaking slightly. "I've tried. God, I've tried so hard to be what everyone expects me to be. To want what I'm supposed to want. But then I hear your voice on the radio, or I see your face on a magazine cover, and it all comes rushing back."

Leia's breath caught as Taylor reached out, her fingers hovering just shy of touching Leia's cheek. The gesture was achingly familiar – a habit from their past, when Taylor would trace the line of her jaw before kissing her.

"Taylor," Leia warned, but it came out more like a plea.

And Leia felt herself leaning in before she could even think. Their noses nearly touched. Their breath tangled in the silence. It would be so easy.

So easy.

And it had always been so hard.

Leia pulled back.

"Don't," she whispered, voice cracking under the weight of restraint. "Don't do this."

Taylor's brow furrowed, confused, her lips parted as if she couldn't understand what had just happened. Leia's breath trembled as it left her. She wasn't even sure if her heart was beating anymore, it just hurt. Everything hurt.

"I can't," she said softly. It came out like a prayer. Like a plea to herself.

Taylor blinked. "Leia..."

"No." Leia shook her head, and the tears were already rising - tight behind her throat, stinging in her eyes. "Don't say my name like that. Not if you don't mean it. Not when he's still waiting for you to come home."

Taylor's face crumpled, and she looked down, her jaw tightening.

"I'm not with him tonight. I didn't even tell him I was coming to this after-party. I didn't want him here. I just wanted -"

"Me?" Leia finished bitterly. "You wanted me tonight? Like a secret? Like a souvenir you keep hidden at the bottom of a drawer and only take out when it's safe?"

"Leia, that's not fair -"

"No," Leia said again, more firmly now. "What's not fair is that you say these things... these beautiful, aching things... and then go home to someone else. You send me I miss us at four in the morning and then act like you don't know why I stopped replying."

Taylor flinched, but Leia didn't stop. Couldn't.

"I love you," Leia whispered, and the tears finally spilled over. "God, I love you. I probably always will. But I can't be the person you cheat on him with, Taylor. I won't do that to him, and I won't do that to me."

Taylor's breath hitched, but she didn't speak.

"If you want me... if any of this is real - then you have to pick me. Not at award shows. Not in speeches. Not in secret. For real. For good."

Silence.

Taylor stood there, trembling, lips pressed together like she was holding in a thousand confessions.

But she didn't say anything.

Leia took a shaky step back.

"I can't keep surviving on scraps," she murmured. "So if you don't know, if you're still unsure... then please, just let me go."

She turned toward the door, hand already reaching for the handle, but her voice came one last time.

"I would've chosen you without a single second of hesitation. Every time."

And then she left. She didn't look back. Not this time.