vii. TREAD CAREFULLY.
January 5, 2018. | Third Person POV.
Los Angeles, California.

The lights residing in the studio were dimly lit, its walls padded with acoustic panels that swallowed the sound of the outside world. It was 2AM, and the only sources of light were the glowing buttons on the soundboard and the faint light from above. Sedona sat on the couch, a glass of expensive red wine cradled in her hands, her legs tucked beneath her. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of a track she'd been working on earlier, looping softly in the background.

She wasn't drunk, not quite, but she was tipsy enough to feel loose. Her thoughts, however, were far from settled. The wine only heightened the emotions that had been swirling in her chest all day—the memories, the regrets, the unspoken words that seemed to haunt her every time she was alone.

She tilted her head back, letting the glass of wine rest against her lips. "Damn," She muttered to herself, her voice barely audible. "Why does it always feel like this at night?"

Sedona wasn't alone in the studio. Her longtime producer and friend, Malik, sat at the soundboard, adjusting knobs and tweaking beats. He glanced at her over his shoulder, a knowing look in his eyes. "You good over there?" He asked.

She shrugged, a lopsided smile playing on her lips. "I'm fine. Just... in my feels, you know?"

Malik smirked, leaning back in his chair. "You're always in your feels, Sedona. That's why you're so damn good at what you do."

She laughed softly, shaking her head. "Yeah, well, sometimes it'd be nice to just... not feel everything so deeply."

The looped track playing in the background shifted slightly, and Sedona's ears perked up. She leaned forward, setting her wine glass on the coffee table. "What's that?" She asked, nodding toward the soundboard.

Malik turned back to the equipment, pressing a few buttons to isolate the beat. It was soft, almost ethereal, with a slow, pulsing rhythm and a haunting melody. "Something I've been messing with," He said. "Thought it might fit your vibe tonight."

Sedona stood, her movements fluid despite the wine in her system, and made her way to the mic. "Run it back," She said, slipping on the headphones.

Malik grinned, hitting a few buttons to start recording. "Let's see what you've got."

The moment the beat kicked in, Sedona closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her. The wine had loosened her inhibitions, and she let herself sink into the emotions she'd been holding back all day.

The lyrics came to her like a stream of consciousness, raw and unfiltered:

"You wonderin' why I. Don't come around like I used to. Play around like I used to. It's not you, it's me, I got a—a different set of urgencies now. Scared of watchin' my life go down the drain. Can't let it be you in my way, so I."

Her voice was smooth and fluid, carrying the weight of the emotions she'd been trying to suppress. Malik leaned forward, his hands flying over the controls as he adjusted the levels, capturing the magic unfolding in real-time.

Sedona sang about the need to move on, about the feeling of knowing that even though you could've moved on, that one person would still be in the back of your mind, about the way her mind always wandered to places she wished it wouldn't. She didn't name names, but the ghost of a past love lingered in every word, every note.

"Tread carefully, no bra. Tread carefully, no panties. I tread carefully 'til I'm on top of you. And now I regret comin' over here. Why you comin' over here? You know what you're doin'."

Malik watched her from the booth, shaking his head in amazement. "You're a damn genius," he muttered under his breath, adjusting the EQ to let her voice soar above the beat.

Sedona opened her eyes, her gaze distant as she sang the chorus:

"I can't front, I want you bad as you want me too. Can't front, really want you bad as you want me too. I want you bad as you want me, and I bet it's good 'cause you know what you're doin', you know what you're doin."

Her voice cracked slightly on the last line, but she didn't care. It wasn't about perfection—it was about the truth.

By the time she finished, the room was silent except for the faint hiss of the recording equipment. Sedona pulled off the headphones, her cheeks flushed, whether from the wine or the intensity of the performance, she wasn't sure.

Malik leaned back in his chair, letting out a low whistle. "That... that was something else, Sedona."

She smiled faintly, playing with a curl. "Yeah? It felt good. Honest."

"More than good," Malik said, saving the track. "This is a hit. I'm telling you, people are gonna feel this one."

Sedona sank back onto the couch, reaching for her glass of wine. "Good," She said softly. "Because I sure as hell felt it."

She stayed in the studio for a while longer, listening to the playback and adding a few harmonies here and there. By the time she left, the first hints of dawn were creeping over the horizon, painting the sky in soft shades of pink and orange.

As she drove home, the melody still playing in her mind, she couldn't help but feel a sense of catharsis. The night had been heavy, but the music had lightened the load if only a little.

What she didn't know was that the song, later titled "Tread Carefully," would become one of her most beloved tracks—a raw, vulnerable anthem that resonated with anyone who'd ever found themselves wide awake in the middle of the night, haunted by what could have been.

The drive home was quiet, the city of Carson slowly giving way to the early morning calm. The streets were empty, the streetlights casting long shadows across her car as Sedona cruised toward her condo in West Los Angeles. The night's events replayed in her head, her lyrics swirling like a delicate storm. She still felt the wine in her system, but it was balanced now, softened by the satisfaction of having created something real.

As she pulled into the driveway and parked, she sat in her car for a moment, letting the silence wrap around her. The faint melody of the song she'd just recorded echoed in her mind.

"Tread Carefully..."

She sighed, leaning her head back against the seat for a moment before stepping out and heading inside.

The condo was dark except for the dim light from the timer lamp in the living room. She flicked off her shoes by the door, dropping her keys onto the counter. The place smelled faintly of lavender, the remnants of the essential oil diffuser she'd left on earlier in the day.

The weight of the night's emotions sat heavily on her shoulders as she made her way to the bathroom. She turned on the shower, the sound of water hitting the tiles echoing softly. As she undressed, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes lingered for a moment on her face—flushed, a little tired, but still glowing from the adrenaline of creating.

Stepping into the shower, she let the hot water cascade over her, washing away the tension and wine haze. She closed her eyes, the lyrics from the studio coming back to her, the weight of her voice singing them still palpable in her chest.

"Why do I always feel everything so deeply?" She whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the spray of water.

By the time she stepped out, wrapping a towel around herself, she felt lighter, clearer. The cool air from the hallway brushed against her damp skin as she padded into her bedroom. The bed looked inviting, the soft glow of her bedside lamp casting a warm hue over the room.

She slipped into an oversized T-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts, her hair tied in a silk bonnet as she crawled under the covers. The house was silent, the world outside still asleep, but Sedona's mind was restless. She reached for her phone on the nightstand, absentmindedly scrolling through Instagram in search of distraction.

She liked a few posts from friends—pictures of sunsets, selfies, and studio sessions. But then, her thumb hovered over a familiar face as she scrolled past a post from Kendrick.

The photo was simple, a black-and-white shot of him in the studio, a pair of headphones around his neck, his eyes closed, and his hand resting on his temple as if deep in thought. The caption read:

"Working through it all. Art saves. #TDE"

Sedona stared at the screen longer than she intended, her heart beating a little faster. It had only been a day since they'd seen each other in the studio—and almost a week since the TDE party where they'd shared a fleeting conversation about music and nothing more. But now, seeing this post, a faint, unidentifiable feeling crept into her chest.

It wasn't sadness, exactly, and it wasn't anger. It was something softer, something more confusing. A sense of curiosity, maybe? Or longing? She couldn't quite place it.

Her thumb hovered over the like button, hesitating. Instead of tapping it, she clicked into the comments, reading the flood of love and admiration from fans and fellow artists. It was the same Kendrick—confident, revered, untouchable.

And yet, Sedona couldn't help but feel there was something beneath the surface of his post. Something unspoken.

She locked her phone and placed it face down on the nightstand, sighing softly. Pulling the blanket tighter around herself, she stared at the ceiling, her mind replaying fragments of the song she'd created just hours ago.

Maybe it was the wine still lingering in her system, or maybe it was the vulnerability that came with being awake at such a quiet hour. Whatever it was, Sedona felt the faintest flicker of something—something she couldn't name—as she thought about Kendrick.

Her eyes eventually fluttered shut, but her dreams that night were filled with blurry images of black-and-white photos, dimly lit studios, and the echoes of a familiar voice calling her name in the dark.

—

©kashdemi
Volume I- Redamancy.
Chapter Seven.
— １２／２５／２４
———————
Filler chapter. Merry Christmas and happy holidays to those who celebrate it.

Thoughts on the chapter! And what do you expect for the next one?

Stay tuned for the next chapter, & til next time!
- shea