"What the hell, Maeve? How long are you going to hide in here?"
Ama's voice echoed off the marble floor, her heels clicking like tiny hammers as she strode into the studio. Her eyes swept over the new furniture, the glowing soundboards, the gold-tipped mic stand.
She had arrived earlier, but for some reason, Maeve's people didn't let her in. They said no one was allowed in here but she pushed through them.
Maeve hadn't planned on seeing any old friends today, and Ama had no idea she was already an ex-friend. In Maeve's first life, Ama had been her sister, her confidante. But this wasn't that life anymore.
"What's this I'm hearing all over the news?" Ama demanded. "I tried calling Mirabelle and she said it's true. Did you really cheat on Fred?"
Her words barely registered. Maeve's eyes weren't on Ama's face. They were fixed on her clothes.
The outfit. The same one she'd glimpsed on her anonymous nemesis in that shadowy livestream, the person who had stolen her music.
Was Ama her plagiarist?
Since when did Ama have such a nice voice?
Maeve had died with that unanswered question once before. In this life, she wasn't going to. She would do whatever it took to find out the truth.
"It doesn't matter anymore," Maeve said quietly, picking up her phone. "We're divorced already."
"Divorced?" Ama blinked. "How is that even possible? Maeve, you've been married for barely a day and you're divorced?" Her voice rose in disbelief.
"The whole world is furious with you. The Orchard family, Mrs. Aurora, they're all livid about the scandal. You're losing your fans, your career is in shambles."
Mrs. Aurora is Fred's mother and had loved Maeve since childhood, cared for her like her own. In the past, no matter the scandal, no matter how cruelly barren Fred had made her feel, Mrs. Aurora's love had never wavered.
Even now, Maeve knew she still loved her dearly.
But love wasn't her focus anymore. Not Mrs. Aurora's. Not anyone's. She has been brutally killed and the world celebrated her death. She didn't care about anyone anymore.
Until Maeve unmasked the thief who had stolen her music, this second chance at life could still end the same tragic way.
She said nothing more. Instead, she rose, walked to the mic stand at the center of the room, and curled her fingers around the microphone.
"Play the second track, Becky."
Becky nodded, pale-faced, and tapped at her tablet. This was Maeve's test. Her proof. She would know right now if Ama was the thief who had ruined her life in the past.
The music began, soft and low, filling every corner of the studio.
Maeve closed her eyes. The world fell away. It was just her and the song. Music was her heartbeat; it flowed through her like a river. She let it carry her.
"Empty House," she whispered. Then she sang.
Her voice poured out like a confession, raw and unguarded. It carried her back to that night, the one when she lost everything. The night her parents died.
---
Verse
Shadows in the hallway,
Photographs that never aged,
A lullaby still lingers
In a frame that time erased.
I was small when silence grew,
The night they both slipped through,
And every echo of their names
Still bruises me like new.
Chorus
Empty house, no one to call,
I learned to dance with ghosts against the wall.
Mama's voice is thunder in the rain,
Daddy's eyes are burning in the flame.
I'm a child who never found her way,
But I keep singing, just to make them stay...
---
Maeve stopped before the bridge, letting the last note fade into silence. Then she looked straight at Ama.
But Ama cried. She clapped and cried at her friends song. Even Becky cried. They both couldn't control their emotions anymore.