The following morning, a soft glow filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, illuminating a scene of quiet bliss. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of professional chaos and personal heartache , but in this moment, all of that faded away. In the kitchen, Amala moved with a comfortable ease, a stark contrast to the awe she had felt just hours before. She was wearing one of Landon's oversized black t-shirts, the fabric loose on her frame, and humming softly to herself. The aroma of coffee and sizzling bacon filled the air as she hummed a familiar tune. Landon walked in and leaned against the doorframe, a relaxed smile on his face as he watched her. She was a world away from the glamorous persona the media loved to capture, and he found this version of her infinitely more captivating. He felt a profound sense of peace just by being in the same room with her. This was the normalcy he had been craving in both of his lives, the quiet, mundane moments that made life feel real again.
Landon's presence finally caught Amala's attention, and she turned with a grin. "Morning," she said, her voice soft and bright. "Hope you're hungry. I wasn't sure what you liked, so I just went with the classics."
He walked over to her, the rich smell of coffee and bacon filling his senses. "This is perfect," he said, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. "You know, this is the most relaxed I've felt in... a while."
Amala leaned back into his embrace, a contented sigh escaping her lips. "Me too. It's nice to just... be."
Landon smiled, taking in the serene moment. "You look good in my shirt," he murmured, his voice a low hum.
She chuckled, a light, happy sound. "You have excellent taste in clothes."
"And in company," he replied, tightening his arms around her. "I have a feeling this is a dream I'm never going to want to wake up from."
He kissed her neck softly, and she turned in his arms, her hands finding his chest. She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with affection. "Me neither," she said.
Amala leaned back, her hands still on Landon's chest. "So," she said, her voice a soft hum, "what's the plan for today?"
Landon's expression turned thoughtful. "I haven't been in my studio chair for a month," he said, a sense of longing in his voice. "I miss it. I was thinking we should go and finish the compilation EP while we still have momentum."
"Then we should eat first," Amala replied with a warm smile.
Landon chuckled, kissing her on the nose. "And once we're done you should go shower first, since you tend to kill time in the shower."
Amala looked at him, her gaze a little more intense, her voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. "Well, you know, you're always welcome to join."
Landon smiled, a glint of amusement in his eyes. He gently pulled away from her, and kissed her forehead. "Then we'll be wasting more time. You know I tend to be on time."
Landon smiled, a silent promise in his eyes, as he finally broke away from her. He walked to the island, where Amala had already laid out two plates of bacon and eggs. They sat down, the morning light pouring through the massive windows and casting a warm glow on the table. The conversation was easy, flowing with the comfortable rhythm of two people who had known each other for years, not weeks. They laughed and chatted, the sound filling the quiet penthouse. He told her stories about his early days in the industry, and she shared anecdotes about her struggles as an independent artist. The breakfast was simple, but in that moment, it felt like the best meal they had ever had.
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The car ride was filled with comfortable silence, and before they knew it, they were pulling up to the familiar glass facade of Echowaves Records. As Landon and Amala stepped inside, he was met with a familiar, but new, sight. He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes scanning the wall that was filled with his awards and certifications. Hanging at the very end, gleaming under a spotlight, was a new, shiny platinum certification plaque for his last album.
He was still staring at it when Rachel came over, a wide grin on her face. She wrapped him in a warm hug, her voice filled with pride.
"Congratulations," she said. "We just added a new plaque."
Landon laughed, a deep, genuine sound that echoed in the quiet lobby. "I believe this makes it the fifth?"
Rachel nodded. "Yeah," she confirmed. "Your debut album is now 5X Platinum."
Landon smiled, but it was a quiet, internal one. For all his fame, the plaques never lost their meaning. This one, in particular, was different. It represented the end of a chapter, a monumental period of his life that was now over.
"You've been gone a month, and you're still making us all look bad," Gemma teased, nudging him lightly. "The fans are demanding new music, and you've got a studio chair that's been begging for you to come back."
He and Amala followed her and Rachel down a long corridor, its walls lined with gold and platinum records from every artist who workd there( One Direction and Tatiana for now). The atmosphere was a mix of quiet efficiency and creative energy. They finally reached a door at the end of the hall, and Rachel opened it, revealing Landon's private studio. It was a space that felt entirely his, a large, soundproof room filled with instruments, mixers, and monitors. He walked in and looked around, a feeling of coming home washing over him. The month of chaos and soul-searching had been necessary, but this was where he truly belonged.
Amala watched him as he moved to his chair, his hands instinctively reaching for the keyboard. This was the Landon the world knew, the one the media called a "genius." But to her, he was just Landon, and seeing him in his element, a place of peace and purpose, filled her with a profound sense of pride. He looked at her, and his eyes, which had held a playful energy just moments before, now held a focused intensity.
"Ready to start a revolution?" he asked, a small smile on his face.
Later that day, the studio was a world of its own, the outside world fading away into the focused hum of monitors and mixers. The hours had flown by, each one a testament to their shared creative energy. Amala's voice, a smooth, confident blend of R&B and pop, was a perfect match for the track's dark, pulsing beat. Landon leaned into the microphone one last time, his voice a low, melodic hum that flowed into the aether. He wasn't reading any lyrics; he was just singing, the words flowing from a subconscious petfectly as he finished the verse, pulling back from the mic.
"You belong to me," he sang, his voice still echoing with the final, haunting notes of his verse on the song. He took off the headphones, and watched Amala's reaction, her eyes wide with a mix of awe and a hint of confusion. "That... that was insane," she said, her voice filled with admiration. "How did you even come up with that? It's perfect."
Landon just shook his head, a private world humming just beneath the surface of his public one. He walked back to the control board and hit the playback button, listening as his voice and Amala's blended together in the song that, in another life, was meant for a completely different artist. (You right by Doja Cat ft The Weeknd)
The studio door opened, and Alex stepped inside, his face was set in a wide, seemingly carefree smile, but a subtle fatigue lingered in his eyes. "Wow," he said, walking in with a confident swagger and clapping Landon on the back. "Lanny, you really ate it up. Nice verse."
Landon's face lit up, and he walked over to his friend. "Hey, man," he said, clapping him on the back. "Where have you been? We were just talking about you."
A quick, forced smile crossed Alex's face. "Oh, a friendfrom cuba called last night," he said vaguely, his gaze flitting around the studio, avoiding Landon's eyes.
Landon, wrapped up in the post-recording euphoria, didn't notice the subtle shift in his friend's demeanor. "Well, good, because you got here just in time. Amala and I just finished a track. You have to hear it." He moved back to the soundboard and pressed play. As the first notes of the song filled the studio, Amala watched Alex's face, expecting a familiar expression of awe. But all she saw was a vacant stare, his eyes focused on something far away. He was there, listening to the song, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.