It starts with Laura saying:
"We'll need a fourth."
Which is never something Laura says lightly.
The three of us are sitting in the studio again, though this time it's daytime and no one looks like they've survived a war with sleep. Theo, Our manager, is on speaker, talking about expansion, reach, creative evolution.
I'm only half listening.
Until I'm not.
"The project requires a stronger stage presence," Theo continues. "Someone with established momentum."
I sit up straighter.
Stronger stage presence.
Laura folds her hands calmly. "We don't need someone flashy. We need someone compatible."
Axel, who has been unusually quiet, says:
"What about Zane?"
Silence.
I look at him.
Laura looks at him.
Theo pauses. "Zane Calder?"
Axel shrugs like it's casual. "Yeah."
But it's not casual.
Not the way he says it.
Laura studies him carefully. "You've mentioned him before."
"High school," Axel says. "We used to perform together."
Used to.
There's something in his voice I can't place.
"He's solo now," Axel continues. "Built his own thing."
Theo hums thoughtfully. "He's doing well. Very well."
Laura nods slowly. "Send me his recent performances."
The call ends shortly after that.
And suddenly the air feels… different.
I turn in my chair.
"You had a band friend and never told me?" I accuse Axel dramatically.
He rolls his eyes. "It wasn't a band."
"What was it then?"
"Just noise."
Laura's mouth twitches faintly.
I grab my laptop.
Because obviously I'm not going to wait for Laura's formal evaluation process.
Zane Calder.
I type it in.
And then—
Oh.
Oh.
He's not just "doing well."
He's everywhere.
Clips from concerts.
Live performances.
Covers.
Interviews.
Crowds singing his lyrics back to him.
There's a thumbnail of him on stage, guitar slung low, red streaks in his dark hair catching the lights.
Confident.
Effortless.
I click a performance.
The energy hits immediately.
He moves like the stage belongs to him.
Not arrogantly.
Just… like he never doubted it.
His voice is strong. Clear. A little rough at the edges in a way that feels intentional.
The crowd screams his name.
I scroll further.
He's done covers too.
One of them—
Wait.
I freeze.
He covered an Éthernel track.
A full, stylized reinterpretation.
Comments flooded with praise.
"This is better than the original."
"That arrangement???"
"Zane Calder never misses."
I blink.
He rewrote parts of it.
Confident enough to touch something iconic.
That's bold.
That's terrifying.
That's kind of—
I clear my throat.
Attractive.
I didn't say that.
I didn't.
I click another video.
Interview clip.
He's laughing easily, leaning back in his chair like he doesn't need to prove anything to anyone.
When asked about his growth as an artist, he says:
"I built it alone. No one handed me anything."
There's no bitterness in it.
Just fact.
I glance across the room at Axel.
"You performed with him?"
"Yeah."
"You didn't… stay in touch?"
Axel shrugs again. "Different paths."
Laura is watching something on her tablet now.
Her expression unreadable.
"He has presence," she says calmly.
"That's one word for it," I mutter.
Because I can't stop watching the way he commands a crowd.
The way he holds a microphone like it's an extension of himself.
The way he never looks unsure.
Never looks small.
I look down at my own reflection faintly mirrored in the laptop screen.
Messy hair.
Oversized sweater.
Probably a smudge of something on my cheek.
He's… a big shot.
Touring.
Headlining.
Rewriting classics.
And we're—
We're warm, we're steady.. we're careful...
I click pause on a clip where he smirks at the audience after hitting a high note.
My stomach does something strange.
Curious.. intimidated..annoyed..impressed.
He's loud.
He's confident.
He's everything I'm not.
Laura closes her tablet.
"I'll reach out," she says evenly.
Axel nods once.
I stare at the frozen frame of Zane Calder on my screen.
Red streaks catching stage light.
Smile tilted.
Eyes sharp.
And for the first time since this project started, I feel it.
A tiny ripple.
Like something new is about to enter our harmony.
And I don't know if I want it to.
Or if I absolutely do.