My dad liked to hoard things. A lot. It reached a point where, after he was unresponsive to Mom's warnings, she threw it all out and paid for the storage box. Dad filled back everything in record speed.

I still didn't understand the problem. Sure, it took away space from my own belongings but what summoned that type of fury? What was so bad about keeping clutter? It made an impenetrable fortress, immune from prying eyes.

It was why the existence of storage garages puzzled me. Rows and rows of garages, where people pay monthly or yearly fees to let it occupy space.

I looked down at the painting I'd bought from Hidden Stars. In the interview, Phiona had mentioned her hobby of wood carving and how it more or less died further down in her pursuit of music. The moment she showed some of her samples I knew the painting was hers. I hoped Phiona didn't want to let go of this one. It must hold a lot of meaning.

A pair of boots stopped in front of me. She wore a loose hoodie and sweatpants. "I won't take up too much of your time," she said. Walking over to a garage door, she fished out a key and squatted down to fiddle with the padlock.

"You were on the news," I said.

The padlock thudded to the ground. "Stand back."

I covered my ears as Phiona pulled up the rusted metal door. A pull-out sofa bed, stacks of CDs, pots and pans in boxes, Dollarama drawers, and electrical wires all wrapped in layers of plastic like cheap Christmas presents. A mystery object covered in blankets and old sheets sat in the middle. I had never owned one, but looked at enough pictures to recognize the rounded silhouette of a spinet piano.

"You gave up a lot of things," I said.

She smiled wryly. "I don't blame you for thinking that way. Hidden Stars will make you believe the path to success is lined with sacrifice."

"It's true to an extent, right?"

"I only gave up one thing to have everything I truly wanted. The worst feeling is yearning for something so badly and realizing you didn't want it at all," she said, turning her back to rifle through an old drawer. A stack of serious-looking documents appeared on top with a cloud of dust.

She continued searching. The papers lifted and fanned with the wind.

"When I first joined Hidden Stars, I pushed away everyone who disagreed with me. 'The industry will ruin you,' 'It's not worth sacrificing your sense of self'--Nah. Didn't want to hear any of that. After all, I've overcome so much. My heart had to be right. Surely there was a point in time where I knew myself better than others.

"It's true, Charu and I were friends. What they conveniently left out was just how the environment was ruthless if you had the slightest reservations about burning bridges with your family."

"But you're giving up now?" I said. "You left. They can't influence you anymore."

"I'm not!" Phiona said, offended. "Do you know what it feels like, to admit you're tired and broken? In front of so many people who depend on you! Who see themselves in you! The least I could do...the least I could do was be the first to announce it on television."

If this wasn't giving up, what was? Why would she be so sad?

I silently handed her the painting. When she refused to look at it, lost in her thoughts, I shoved it in her face. "What is this song about? It's a song, right?" I asked.

She slowly blinked at the painting and held it gingerly, at a distance. "It's Charu's song now. We agreed upon it," she clarified after seeing my expression. "I don't want the rights to this song. It was written by a weaker version of myself."

I knew all of Charu's songs. Which song was it? I wanted to ask.

"But, since you brought it all the way here, I'll keep it," she sighed, tracing the carved flowers along the wooden frame.

I wished Rajethiran was here. They'd know the right things to say, or at least how to make Phiona feel less alone.

I walked deeper into the garage, tiptoeing around Phiona's belongings like it was an abandoned museum exhibit. She carefully propped her carved frame against the wall. Taking out a pair of scissors, she started to slice through cobwebs and layers of dingy plastic, revealing miscellaneous items beneath. A sense of urgency took over her as careful searching turned into an avalanche of disarray. I caught a heavy object before it could crash to the ground.

In my hands was a small golden plaque etched with a fancy font. An unfamiliar star logo. Or was it a flower? And below--

Not my business. I put it back as if it was on fire, though my curiosity burned.

With a winning smile, Phiona pocketed a small metal item. A binder with important-looking papers also appeared in her hands. She carefully flipped through the limp pages one by one.

"Oh Tai," she said, noticing my tears. "There's nothing to cry about."

"You're not going to be my music manager anymore."

"I know. I'm sorry."

I couldn't tell if that was the real reason I was crying, or if Phiona giving up her dreams meant there was a significant chance that future me would, too.

Phiona tucked her painting under her arm. She crouched down in front of me, reminding me how much more of life I had yet to experience, both its joys and pains. Through my tears she was a blur of colour and a steady voice.

"Zayn needs me," she said softly. "I have a family too. They don't love me or accept me as much as they should, but I've decided to focus on that part of my life more. I know it's hypocritical, what I preach about ensuring you're treated nothing but the best for who you are...but this is my duty. And I want to try.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I took on more work than I could handle, and that's on me. I'll find another music manager through my connections for you. For now, all I ask is for you to accept that quitting is my choice."

"I don't understand."

"I don't need you to," she said.

She walked out the garage with the binder and wooden frame in hand. I followed, squinting as my eyes adjusted to the sun's setting rays. Time had flown by. I was going to go home empty-handed with questions instead of answers.

"W-What are those papers?" I asked, grasping onto anything to stall her.

"Evidence," she said. "I was worried they'd be lost forever...Tai. I need to meet up with Thiran. Going along with their absurd idea is probably the only chance I have to set things straight. I'm lucky they offered. They're pretty angry at me right now," she laughed.

She yanked the closed padlock to ensure the garage door was secured. Behind us the sun skimmed the horizon, exploding into hues of deep orange and pink and washing us in gold.

I thought I could look up to Phiona, a real person I had a genuine connection with. A friendship. But had I even seen her as a real person to begin with? A person could make mistakes, apologize, and have as much right to end her music career as own it? Or was that view in of itself an oversight of the impossible pressures she faced?

I couldn't tell her I saw her on a pedestal and failed to heed her advice. A teacher's disappointment towards their student's incompetence was crushing.

The incompetent student would do anything to win that approval back.

Phiona was in her car now. I walked up to her and said, "Charu offered me an invitation to join Hidden Stars."

She gripped the steering wheel hard. "Again?"

"I want to help you!" I said. "I won't say yes. But if you're looking for information and you need evidence..."

For a long while she considered. Then she told me.