None of their friends had a single idea what had happened between them in April and May to suddenly cause their rebuilding friendship to flicker back to awkward silences and forced civility at events.

They wouldn't talk about it.

They'd pose at award shows, smile in photos with their friends and move on like nothing had ever happened between them in public. In private, it was like they'd never reconnected. The last texts in their conversation were those unanswered messages from Taylor.

The summer heat shimmered over New York, turning the city into a concrete furnace. Leia's apartment offered little reprieve despite the cranked air conditioning, which hummed continuously as she paced across her living room. Three months had passed since the Brits – three months of carefully orchestrated public appearances where she and Taylor maintained the facade of distant acquaintances, their real story buried beneath practiced smiles and polite nods.

Leia's phone buzzed on the coffee table. Georgie's name flashed on the screen, accompanied by a text that made her groan.

Dinner at 8. No excuses. Cara's in town. Gigi confirmed. Dress cute but casual.

She knew what Georgie was doing – trying to normalize their friend group again, to heal the fracture that had appeared after London. What Georgie didn't know was how impossible that felt. How could she sit across from Taylor and make small talk when the memory of that night still burned so vividly?

Can't tonight. Studio session with Jack.

Leia typed back, the lie slipping easily from her fingers.

Georgie's response was immediate.

Nice try. Jack already confirmed he's coming too, so that's a lie. Car's picking you up at 7:30.

The hours ticked by too quickly. Before she knew it, Leia was sliding into the back of a sleek town car, dressed in high-waisted jeans and a silky emerald top that Georgie had once said brought out the gold flecks in her eyes.

Her hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, and she'd kept her makeup minimal – just enough to hide the shadows under her eyes that spoke of restless nights spent writing songs she'd never release.

She'd been in the studio a lot recently. Jack loved the inspiration that was pouring from her, her label execs loved the fact that she was finally about to start thinking about a sophomore album, and Georgie was absolutely terrified of what had happened between her and Taylor to have caused this sudden change in attitude.

The car pulled up to a small, exclusive restaurant in the West Village. Its unmarked entrance and discreet security were telltale signs of a celebrity haven. Leia took a deep breath before stepping out, steeling herself for the evening ahead.

She smiled at the paparazzi, waved gently and moved inside without little else to it. It was second nature.

Inside, the space was warm and intimate – exposed brick walls, soft lighting, and tables spaced far enough apart to allow for private conversation. Georgie waved from a corner booth, her ginger hair instantly recognisable. Beside her sat Cara, animated as ever, and Gigi, who offered Leia a gentle smile as she approached.

And across from them – empty space. Two empty seats.

"Am I early?" Leia asked, sliding in beside Gigi, relief washing over her.

"Taylor and Jack are running late," Georgie explained, confirming Leia's unspoken question with a sly smile on her lips. "Some last-minute song writing session."

So that's how Georgie knew she wasn't recording.

Leia's heart sank. She shot her sister a look that could have frozen the East River, but Georgie merely raised her eyebrows innocently and took a sip of her sparkling water.

"They should be here any minute," Gigi added, her voice gentle as if sensing Leia's discomfort. "Jack texted saying they finally nailed the bridge they've been struggling with."

Taylor was writing new music then, and not just working on the re-recordings, Leia thought. That was something that she wasn't sure how to feel about - she loved Taylor's music. She'd loved being a muse and just simply being a listener.

She had a gut feeling there were going to be some songs on there that she didn't want to hear.

"Of course they did," Leia muttered, reaching for the wine list to give her hands something to do. The paper trembled slightly between her fingers. She scanned the selections without registering a single word.

The three others shared a look that was missed by Leia.

"You could have warned me," Leia muttered to Georgie, who merely shrugged and took a sip of her wine.

"Would you have come if I had?" Georgie challenged, one eyebrow raised.

Cara leaned across the table, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

"So, what's the deal with you two anyway? The tension is so thick whenever you're in the same room, I could cut it with my butter knife."

"There is no deal," Leia said too quickly, reaching for the water glass in front of her. "We're fine."

Gigi exchanged a knowing look with Georgie.

"Right. 'Fine' is why neither of you has mentioned the other's name in months. 'Fine' is why you both look like you've seen a ghost whenever someone brings up hanging out."

Leia's fingers tightened around her glass. "It's complicated."

That was the end of that conversation. Gigi leaned back in her seat, raising her eyebrows at Cara who rolled her own eyes, before changing the topic. They'd all tried the same with Taylor - even Georgie - but she'd been equally as tight-lipped about why they'd suddenly gone from being besties at the Grammys to not speaking again.

"I hear your new stuff is fire. Jack's been raving about it to anyone who'll listen."

"It's... coming along," Leia replied, trying to sound casual. "Nothing concrete yet."

"Bullshit," Georgie interjected. "She's been locked in that studio like it's her personal bunker during the apocalypse. Our neighbours probably think I live alone at this point."

The table laughed, and Leia felt some of the tension ease from her shoulders. This was familiar – the banter, the warmth of friendship.

Then the restaurant's door opened.

Conversations around them dipped momentarily as Taylor walked in, Jack following close behind. She wore a simple black slip dress with a chunky cardigan, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders. Despite the casual outfit, she commanded attention – it was something in the way she carried herself, a quiet confidence that Leia had always admired, even when it infuriated her. Others craned their necks as she walked past, in disbelief that they were catching a glimpse of the Taylor Swift.

Their eyes met across the room, and for a moment, the bustling restaurant faded away. Taylor's expression flickered – surprise, hesitation, something unreadable – before settling into a polite smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

She obviously hadn't realised Leia was coming either.

"Sorry we're late," Jack announced as they reached the table. "Creative genius waits for no one."

Taylor rolled her eyes. "What he means is he refused to leave until we fixed a chord progression that was perfectly fine to begin with."

"It wasn't fine, it was good. Now it's brilliant," Jack countered, sliding into one of the empty seats.

Which left only one spot – directly across from Leia.

Taylor settled into the chair with practiced grace, almost as if it didn't bother her in the slightest. Leia shifted uncomfortably.

"Hi, everyone. Leia." She nodded in Leia's direction, her voice carefully neutral.

"Taylor," Leia responded, equally measured.

Georgie kicked her under the table.

The tension hung in the air like the humidity outside, thick and oppressive. Leia lifted her glass mechanically, the clink of crystal against crystal painfully sharp in her ears. She took a sip of wine, grateful for the momentary distraction.

Jack leaned forward, oblivious to the undercurrents or perhaps deliberately ignoring them.

"Both of you are sitting on gold. Seriously, I haven't been this excited about two projects simultaneously since... well, ever."

Leia felt Taylor's eyes flicker to her face. "You're working with Jack too?"

There was something in her voice – surprise, perhaps a hint of something else. Leia couldn't tell if it was hurt or curiosity. Honestly, she was surprised that Jack hadn't told Taylor that already, but then again, he also hadn't told Leia that he'd been recording new works with Taylor.

"Just preliminary stuff," Leia said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Nothing serious yet."

"She's being modest," Jack said, waving his hand dismissively. "The track we finished last week is already one of my favourites of the year."

Taylor's eyebrows rose slightly.

"That's high praise."

"It's exaggeration," Leia countered, suddenly feeling defensive. "It's just a demo. I don't know if I'll even keep it. Sabrina Carpenter - you know, the one - has taken a liking to it."

"It is 'decode'? Oh god, if you're talking about decode then it's fucking brilliant, is what it is," Georgie interjected. "I've heard it through the walls enough times to know. Though I'm still not convinced the bridge isn't about -"

"The menu looks amazing," Leia interrupted loudly, practically shoving her face behind the leather-bound list of entrees. "Has anyone tried the sea bass here?"

A knowing silence settled over the table. Taylor's fingers traced the edge of her menu deliberately, her eyes focused downward, but Leia could sense her attention hadn't left their conversation.

"The sea bass is excellent," Gigi offered kindly, allowing them a moment of normality. "Though the scallops are what they're really known for."

Cara leaned forward conspiratorially. "So we're just going to pretend this isn't the most awkward dinner since my family's last Christmas? Cool, cool."

"Cara," Gigi warned under her breath.

"What? I'm just saying what everyone's thinking." Cara shrugged, taking a long sip of her wine. "These two used to be inseparable, and now they can barely look at each other. It's weird."

Jack cleared his throat.

"Maybe we should order some appetisers? The burrata here is life-changing."

Taylor finally looked up, her blue eyes meeting Leia's for a fleeting moment before shifting to Cara.

"Not everything needs to be discussed over dinner," she said, her voice carrying that familiar mix of warmth and steel that Leia had heard her use in interviews when questions veered too personal.

"Fine," Cara conceded, throwing her hands up. "But for the record, whatever happened between you two is affecting the whole friend group. Just saying."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the table. Leia's chest tightened as she felt five pairs of eyes flicking between her and Taylor. The restaurant's ambient noise seemed to amplify in the vacuum of their table's conversation.

"I just wanted to propose a small toast," Georgie said to them all, changing the topic. "I know she's asked to not celebrate milestones but I felt this one we had to. Leia, you're almost 12-months sober."

Leia smiled gently at her sister, having not expected her to bring it up. They'd decided that it was easier to adapt to it when it wasn't constantly brought up and had agreed to stop celebrating every month. Some were easier than others, but she'd been glad to know that the last few months had felt much easier.

"Yeah," Leia breathed as the others all grinned and raised their glasses - Taylor included. "Thank you guys."

"We're so proud of you," Taylor told her, and Leia knew that there was nothing but truth behind that. They looked at each other for a moment longer before the waiter interrupted with a second drinks order that they'd placed.

The conversation mercifully shifted to calmer topics - Gigi's latest photoshoot, Cara's upcoming film, Jack's tales from the studio that carefully avoided mentioning either Taylor or Leia specifically. Georgie, for her part, kept the wine flowing and the conversation moving whenever dangerous silences threatened to fall.

"So," Georgie said, turning to Taylor as their appetisers arrived, "I heard from Austin that you're wanting to start thinking about planning another tour soon. Any chance I could convince you to let me tag along? I promise I'll be less annoying than when I was on the rep tour and followed Leia everywhere."

Taylor laughed, the sound genuine despite the tension. "You were never annoying. Just... enthusiastic."

"That's a diplomatic way of saying I was a total pest," Georgie replied, grinning.

"You still are," Leia murmured, but there was affection beneath the teasing.

Taylor's eyes met hers across the table, and for a moment, something of their old connection flickered to life... the shared humour, the understanding that had once come so easily between them. Then Taylor looked away, reaching for her water glass.

"The tour is just a dream at this point. We haven't even finished on an album - those details are still being worked out," she said to Georgie, "but I'll keep you in mind. You'd be a welcome addition to the chaos. Austin would happily have you join him in the tour festivities again, he's missed having you around."

As the main courses arrived, Leia found herself relaxing fractionally. The food was excellent, the wine warming her from within, making it easier to pretend that this was just another dinner with friends. That the woman sitting across from her hadn't once known her better than almost anyone else.

"So what's this about 'decode'?" Cara asked, never one to let sleeping dogs lie.

Leia nearly choked on her wine. "It's just a song."

"Songs are never just songs," Taylor said quietly, the first direct comment she'd made to Leia all evening. "Not the good ones, anyway."

The table fell silent, the weight of Taylor's words hanging in the air. She would know, after all. Meanwhile, Jack looked delighted at this turn of events.

"It's about feeling like you're speaking different languages with someone," Leia finally admitted, staring down at her plate. "About trying to understand what went wrong when neither of you will say it out loud. Overanalysing it - every conversation, every moment... every message."

She didn't look up, but she could feel Taylor's gaze on her, intense and unwavering.

"Sounds familiar," Gigi murmured, just loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Doesn't it just," Cara added, smirking as she took another sip of wine.

Taylor's fork paused midway to her mouth, her expression unreadable. The restaurant's dim lighting cast soft shadows across her face, highlighting the sharp angles of her cheekbones and the slight furrow between her brows.

For a moment, it seemed like she might respond - might finally acknowledge the elephant that had been following them through award shows and industry events for months.

Instead, she simply took a bite of her scallop, chewed thoughtfully, and redirected.

"Jack, tell them about that ridiculous synthesiser you insisted on buying last week," she said, her voice light but leaving no room for argument.

Jack, ever the peacemaker, launched into an animated story about vintage equipment and "sonic textures" that had everyone laughing within minutes.

Maybe Leia was right - there was nothing left between them to decode now.

____

She'd spent so long thinking about avoiding Taylor wherever she went, that she hadn't really stopped for a moment to consider that there were worst situations to find herself in, and worst people to end up bumping into when out and about.

Like, sure - accidentally sitting next to Taylor at an industry dinner? Bad. Running into her in the bathroom at an awards show and being forced to make strained small talk while washing their hands? Also bad. Being caught by a paparazzi in the same frame as her? Disastrous.

But there were worse things.

Like losing your voice the morning of a live televised performance.

Like accidentally liking a two-year-old photo of your ex on Instagram at three in the morning.

Like being seated between your therapist and your mother during a radio interview - which thankfully, she didn't think she'd have to worry about any time soon.

Worse things.

Leia could think of a thousand of them—little humiliations, minor catastrophes, career-threatening missteps.

But she hadn't imagined this.

She hadn't imagined him.

"Shit," she breathed before the moment fully registered. That it wasn't going to be a good moment but most likely a negatively bad moment. She'd thought of bad outcomes, but not this bad.

Not charity-gala-in-an-old-mansion bad.

Not him bad.

She'd barely made it through the front entrance. The security had been tight but polite, the guest list small and star-studded - an event for a children's cancer fund, hosted in an ornate ballroom filled with soft jazz and stiffer champagne. She was doing her best impression of someone who belonged here. Dress on. Smile present. Shoulders back.

And then he appeared.

Just... there. By the vintage bookshelf-turned-bar, holding a lowball glass and speaking quietly with some aging producer Leia vaguely recognised from a BAFTA panel. His posture, relaxed. His face, effortlessly composed.

Like he hadn't ruined her life without even knowing he had.

Leia froze, a step short of fully entering the room. For a second, she thought she might hallucinated him - some cruel manifestation of every sleepless night and unread message. But no. That was him. That was really him.

She didn't really have a right to hate him, and maybe that's why it was so hard to do so. Yet she did, she well and truly despised him and she knew that she couldn't hide that well.

She hated him, because she remembered. She remembered when he was just a name mentioned in a fake dating rumor. Just a PR shield. A convenient illusion while Taylor curled up next to Leia in secret and whispered things like only you and this isn't real.

But then it had become real.

Taylor had picked him when the lights came on. Taylor had picked him when it started to matter. Taylor had picked him when she'd stopped picking Leia.

And now here he was, in some perfectly tailored tuxedo, his blonde hair artfully tousled like it had taken hours to not look like it took hours. He hadn't seen her yet. He was nodding to something the producer said, listening, present. And she hated him for that - for being present. For being real. For being the choice she hadn't gotten to fight against.

Leia's first instinct was to retreat, to turn on her heel and slip out before she was spotted. But the ballroom's entrance was crowded now, a sea of designer gowns and tuxedos blocking her escape route. The string quartet in the corner shifted into a gentle melody that seemed to mock her racing heart.

"Leia! There you are."

Georgie appeared at her side, resplendent in a midnight blue dress, her auburn hair swept into an elegant updo. Her smile faltered as she followed Leia's frozen gaze across the room.

"Oh," Georgie breathed, her hand finding Leia's elbow. "I didn't know he'd be here."

"Neither did I," Leia managed, her voice barely audible over the ambient chatter. She forced herself to look away, focusing instead on her sister's concerned face. "It's fine. I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. You look like you've seen a ghost." Georgie's grip tightened. "We can leave. Say you're not feeling well..."

"No," Leia interrupted, straightening her shoulders. "I'm not running away. This is important for the label, and I promised I'd perform tonight."

Georgie studied her face. "Are you sure? Because your 'I'm totally fine' face looks suspiciously like your 'I might throw up or cry' face."

Despite herself, Leia laughed.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

A waiter glided past with a tray of champagne flutes. Leia snatched one, took a steadying sip, and winced at the bubbles that rushed too quickly down her throat.

"Just... stay close?" she asked, hating the vulnerability in her voice.

Georgie nodded, linking their arms. "Like glue. Super expensive, designer glue."

They ventured deeper into the ballroom, Leia acutely aware of her heartbeat in her fingertips. She greeted industry executives with practiced smiles, accepted compliments on her latest single with gracious nods, all while maintaining a calculated orbit that kept her as far from him as possible.

Until she couldn't anymore.

"Leia Hudson," he said when he reached her, his voice carrying that infuriating warmth that made it impossible to hate him outright. "I didn't know you'd be here tonight."

"Joe Alwyn, I could say the same," she replied, proud of how steady her voice sounded. "Small world."

"Getting smaller by the minute in our circles." He smiled, that easy, charming smile that had graced tabloid covers and Taylor's paparazzi pictures. She wasn't sure she'd seen him in anything else. "You look well."

The formality of it all was excruciating. As if they were mere acquaintances. As if he didn't know exactly what his presence meant to her.

"Thank you. You too." The words tasted like ash in her mouth. "How's... everything?"

He tilted his head slightly, studying her with eyes that seemed to see too much.

"Good. Busy. You know how it is." A pause. "I caught your performance at the VMAs. That new song is something else."

She hummed.

It had been a month since that dinner at the restaurant. Just under a month since she woke up one morning, anger in her body at another paparazzi photo of Taylor and Joe coming up on her twitter feed, before she'd rolled over and told Jack she wanted to drop decode that evening.

She'd performed it only the other evening at the VMAs - which Taylor had conveniently not attended.

Of course he'd seen that. Of course he'd heard decode performed live. Had Taylor been watching with him? Had they dissected it together, line by line, trying to determine which parts were about her, or was that just another thing she was hiding from her boyfriend?

"Thanks," she said, fighting the urge to drain her champagne in one desperate gulp. "Just... working through some things, I guess."

"I bet," he replied, and Leia wasn't sure how to take that.

She stayed silent and bit her tongue.

"Taylor's not here tonight," he offered finally. "She's in Nashville working on -" He stopped himself, as if suddenly remembering who he was speaking to.

"I didn't ask," Leia said sharply, then immediately regretted her tone. This wasn't his fault, not really. He was just the evidence of choices made, paths taken.

He studied her face for a moment, his expression unreadable. "No, you didn't."

Another pause.

Joe shifted his weight, his perfectly polished Oxford shoes making the slightest sound against the marble floor. His fingers tapped a subtle rhythm against his glass – once, twice – before he cleared his throat.

Where had Georgie gone?

"For what it's worth," he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear it over the ambient noise, "I think I understand more than you might believe."

The cryptic statement hung between them, loaded with implications Leia wasn't ready to unpack. She had no idea what he was talking about, to be frank. She nodded tightly, her earrings catching the light as they swayed with the movement.

"Enjoy your evening, Joe," she managed, the politeness requiring every ounce of her professional composure. The emerald silk of her dress whispered against her skin as she took a half-step backward, creating distance both physical and symbolic.

He offered a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes – the kind reserved for red carpets and press junkets.

"You too, Leia. And good luck with your performance tonight."

He raised his glass in a small salute before turning away, disappearing into the crowd with the practiced ease of someone accustomed to slipping in and out of spotlights.

Leia exhaled slowly, the breath she hadn't realized she was holding escaping in a silent rush. The champagne in her glass had gone flat, tiny bubbles clinging desperately to the sides before surrendering to stillness. She set it on a passing waiter's tray, exchanging it for a fresh glass that glittered with promise under the ballroom lights.

Georgie materialised at her side, her expression a mixture of concern and curiosity.

"That looked intense," she murmured, slipping her arm through Leia's. "What did he say?"

Leia tilted her head to shoot her sister an exasperated expression.

"Where did you go?" Leia quipped back, avoiding the question.

"Sorry, I thought I saw Sydney Sweeney," Georgie gushed, Leia shaking her head for a moment in despair before forgiving her sister instantly. Georgie had recently fallen in love with Euphoria, so Leia excused it.

Leia wandered through the crowd with Georgie still linked to her side, but her mind was far from the chandeliers and champagne now. Joe's voice echoed like static in the corners of her brain.

I think I understand more than you might believe.

What did that even mean? Did he know? Had she told him? Or worse — did he guess? And if he did know... what was he doing being kind to her?

She hated it.

She hated him for being calm and charming and effortless. For not being the villain. For not making this easier.

Because villains are easy to leave behind.

Joe had been real. And Taylor had picked him. Had chosen him when the world was watching - when she and Taylor could only ever exist in shadows and secret hotel rooms and locked dressing rooms where whispered promises felt safer than the truth.

And yet here they were. Taylor, off in Nashville. Joe, sipping champagne and bourbon at a charity gala bar. Leia, smiling through grit teeth and wearing pain like designer perfume.

Taylor was out now. The whole world knew about her sexuality, and she was more popular than ever. Her fears had been squashed. She could be with Leia, and not need to worry about it.

She still was choosing Joe.

"You okay?" Georgie asked softly.

Leia nodded, too quickly. "Yeah."

Was she? She wasn't sure.

Georgie squeezed her arm, grounding her.

"Want to leave after your set?" she asked gently.

Leia looked up at the gold-drenched room, full of the very worst kind of people... the ones you once loved. The ones who loved you back. She didn't know these people. Most of them were actors that probably couldn't pick her out in a crowd, despite her success and tabloid fame. If they could, it was probably because of Dylan's trial.

"Yeah," Leia said quietly. "I think I do."

The night had unraveled itself slowly after her performance.

Leia had sung beneath the soft chandeliers of the ballroom, her voice echoing against century-old walls like a prayer no one quite knew how to answer. The crowd had clapped politely, some even enthusiastically, but it was hard to know how much of that was the song and how much was the wine.

Still, it had gone well.

Now, several hours later, the mood in the ballroom had shifted. The donors and serious patrons had filtered out with their fur stoles and tailored tuxedos, murmuring about bedtimes and early flights. What remained was a looser, more familiar crowd — actors with their ties unknotted and champagne sloshing in glasses, makeup smudged at the corners, laughter louder now, sloppier. The press had been ushered out hours ago, and the night had softened into something messier, more dangerous.

A sign that it was time for her and Georgie to head out too.

Leia had slipped into her coat and switched over to some flats, her heels tucked under one arm. Her feet ached from the performance, and the lingering buzz of adrenaline had long since been replaced by exhaustion. Georgie had gone to the bathroom one last time, swearing she'd only be a minute, and Leia had nodded, grateful for a few moments alone.

She stepped outside into the cool night air, the door of the mansion closing behind her with a soft click. The gravel crunched beneath her shoes as she walked a few steps toward the edge of the front drive. The night was still, the air misty and crisp, the garden lamps casting golden puddles of light over the hedges. It smelled of damp stone and distant lilac.

She kind of loved mansions in New York, but she already missed the city and it had only been an evening.

Leia pulled out her phone, shooting Azul a quick text.

We're ready when you are.

An instant reply, like he'd been waiting.

Perfect. On my way. Bringing burritos.

She smiled softly and tucked her phone back into the pocket of her coat. Her breath came out in soft clouds in front of her as she rubbed her hands together for warmth. It was surprisingly cold for Summer.

That's when she noticed him.

Off to the side, half-obscured by the marble pillar of the front portico. A cigarette dangled between two fingers, glowing at the end with a soft orange ember. Smoke curled upward into the dark sky.

Leia blinked.

She almost turned back around, but something about the moment kept her rooted. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was the fact that, of all the chaotic thoughts that had taken up permanent residence in her brain, she had never once imagined Joe as a smoker.

She stepped closer without thinking.

"I didn't know you smoked," she said quietly, her voice carrying more than she expected in the stillness.

Joe turned his head slowly. His hair was tousled now, his bow tie long gone, the top buttons of his shirt undone. He squinted at her for a moment like it took effort to focus, his pupils dilated.

"I don't," he said after a beat, his words slurring just slightly. "Not really. Just... tonight."

Leia hesitated. She could smell it on him now... the smoke, yes, but also something sweet and sharp: the alcohol. A lot of it. She watched as he raised the cigarette back to his lips, took a drag, then exhaled toward the sky.

"You okay?" she asked carefully.

It was a dumb question. He clearly wasn't.

Joe laughed under his breath, a low, bitter sound. "Do I look okay?"

Leia shifted her weight, unsure if she should stay or go. "I was just trying to make conversation."

"Well don't," he snapped suddenly, his voice sharp in the quiet. The cigarette trembled between his fingers. "Don't pretend like we're just two people having polite small talk at some fucking gala. I'm not interested in that."

Leia blinked, startled by the venom in his voice. This was new.

He'd been nothing but completely civil earlier, when it had seemed like she was the rude one in their conversation. He'd shown her no contempt or venom then - so what had suddenly caused this?

"Okay," she said slowly.

He turned fully to face her now, his eyes glassy and unfocused but burning with something dark beneath the surface.

"You want to know what I'm interested in?" he said, voice rising. "I'm interested in how you manage to ruin everything without even trying."

Leia's breath caught.

"What?"

"You heard me," he said, taking a stumbling step forward. "You have to come back and just- just exist. That's all it takes, isn't it? You walk into a room and she forgets I'm even standing in it."

Leia's mouth opened, but no sound came out. She kind of wanted to point out that the three of them hadn't all been in a room together since 2019, but she bit her lip instead.

"She doesn't look at me the same anymore," Joe went on, louder now. "She doesn't touch me like she used to. She flinches when I say her name. You think that's a coincidence? You think I don't know what changed?"

"Joe," Leia said carefully, holding her hands up. "I don't know what's going on, but-"

"It's you," he interrupted, stabbing the cigarette into the night air. "It's always been you. Even when she picked me, I could see it. That hesitation. That... pause. And I told myself it didn't matter. That I'd be enough. I honestly thought when you'd disappeared off to rehab, that would be the end of it and I could breath. But you're still here."

Leia's heart thundered in her chest.

"I didn't ask for this," she said quietly.

"But you didn't stop it either," Joe spat. "You let her dangle between us. You let her look at you like that, talk about you like that. Do you know what it's like to lie in bed next to someone who whispers another name in her sleep?"

Leia's stomach dropped. "She... she what?"

Joe laughed again, hollow and humorless. "Yeah. Yours. More than once. And I still stayed. Because I thought I could beat you. But you... you ruined her. You ruined us."

"I didn't ruin anything," Leia said, her voice trembling. "If she doesn't look at you the same, that's between you and her. Don't put that on me."

"You think you're innocent?" he snapped. "You're not. You were always there. In her songs. In her fucking notebooks. I should've known the first time she played that stupid unreleased demo about the girl with auburn hair."

Leia took a step back, her face pale, her breath coming short.

"All those songs she's been writing - I'm not stupid, I can see they're different since you came back into her life."

It wasn't just the sting of Joe's words, it was the fact he'd said them aloud, so carelessly, with no regard for who might be listening. The disbelief held her frozen for a second, stunned by the raw venom in his voice. The air between them was sharp now.

He was swaying slightly where he stood, the cigarette forgotten in one hand, the other clenched at his side.

"You think you can just walk back into her life like nothing ever happened?" he slurred, eyes glassy with fury. "You think you can... what? Write some sad little song and that's it? That'll undo it all?"

Leia swallowed hard.

"Joe," she said carefully, trying to keep her voice level, "you're drunk. Maybe this isn't the time-"

"No," he snapped, his voice loud and echoing off the stone walls of the old mansion. "No, we're doing this now. You don't get to walk around like you didn't fucking ruin everything."

She flinched.

"I didn't ask for any of this," Leia went on, voice firm now. "You think I wanted to be the shadow in the corner of your relationship? You think I wanted to be the one she never picked?"

He took a staggering step toward her.

"It's your fault I'm not attracted to her like I used to be."

Leia's mouth fell open.

Her heart stuttered. For a moment, the words didn't even make sense—they felt too cruel, too wrong, to be real. But Joe didn't stop. He stared at her like he was blaming her for the erosion of his own affections.

Leia's eyes flashed.

"If you're not attracted to her anymore, that's on you," she said, stepping forward now, heat flooding her chest. "Don't you dare pin that on me."

Joe's lips curled, but Leia didn't stop.

"Taylor Swift is one of the most brilliant, extraordinary people on this planet. And if you can't see that - if you can't look at her and still fall in love with everything she is - then I don't know what the hell to tell you."

Joe looked stunned for half a second. Then the fury returned, twisted and drunk and clumsy.

"She was mine," he spat. "And you... you had to crawl your way back in. All sad eyes and tragic music and mystery. Fucking irresistible, right?"

A couple stepped out onto the stone steps nearby, murmuring to each other before stopping, frozen by the raised voices. Joe turned toward them, his arms thrown wide.

"Hide your partners!" he shouted towards them, coming across as just an unhinged drunk now.

A few more guests had stepped out, drawn by the commotion. A pair of actors Leia recognised stood just a few feet away now, their expressions uncertain. One of them murmured something under their breath.

"Better lock them up before Leia Hudson decides to steal them too!"

Leia felt it like a slap.

A wave of icy nausea surged up her spine. The world tilted for a second. It wasn't the words themselves, it was the implication behind them. The way he said it. The way he looked at the group, loud and clear and public.

He hadn't just said it.

He'd exposed it.

Not just that there had been something more. But that it had been real. That there had been real feelings involved. Secrets. Something to hide.

And Leia felt like Joe had poured a bucket of ice water over her head, leaving her drenched and frozen in place under a hundred blinking stares.

"Joe," she said, her voice cracking, her chest burning with the effort to stay calm. "You need to stop, you need to stop right fucking now."

But he didn't. He looked wrecked. Broken in some place she didn't know how to reach.

"I see it every time she hears your name," he growled. "She pretends it doesn't matter, but I see it. She was never like that for me."

A black SUV pulled up to the curb just then, headlights cutting across the cobblestone driveway. The door opened.

Azul stepped out, tall and composed, eyes sweeping across the small gathering in one practiced glance. His gaze immediately landed on Leia, her stiff posture, the wide-eyed onlookers, the man shouting in her face. Not on his watch.

Georgie was close behind, emerging from the side door of the mansion, her clutch under her arm, her heels clicking hastily across the stone.

"Leia?" Azul called gently, stepping forward now. "Car's ready."

Leia didn't move at first. She felt like she was vibrating. Like if anyone touched her, she might fall apart.

Then Georgie was at her side, looping an arm around her waist.

"Come on," her sister whispered. "Let's go."

Joe didn't follow. He just stood there, swaying, glass still in hand, as if he'd finally realized how many people were watching. His rage seemed to flicker out in the face of it, dimming into something hollow.

Leia didn't look back.

She let Georgie guide her to the car, Azul's solid presence moving behind them like a shield. She climbed into the back seat, the door closing with a muffled thud that sealed her away from the echo of his voice, the sting of his words.

Only when they were driving away - past the glow of the mansion, past the guests still whispering on the steps and past Joe who was still swaying - did she let herself exhale.

She didn't cry.

She just sat there, staring out the window, her fingers trembling in her lap.

Beside her, Georgie didn't say anything.

Neither did Azul.

The silence in the car was the first kind of peace she'd felt all night.