𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐞

...🏀...

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓, 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋

𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟓

The late afternoon sun spilled through the blinds, painting streaks of amber across my bedroom walls. The faint hum of a basketball game on the TV downstairs buzzed like white noise in the background. My pacing made the old hardwood creak beneath my feet as I cradled Leila in my arms, her small fingers gripping the ends of my hair like I was her lifeline.

"Nathan, will you please sit down?" My voice wavered between frustration and worry as I turned to him.

He stood by the edge of my dresser, leaning heavily on his crutches. His lopsided grin, which I usually fall for, now only infuriated me.

"Mylah, stop worrying," he said, his tone soft but firm.

"Stop worrying?" I shot him a look, my hands tightening protectively around Leila. "You've been out of the hospital for three days. Three. You shouldn't even be standing."

Nathan adjusted his weight on the crutches, ignoring my plea. "The doctor said I needed to move around."

"No," I said sharply, my free hand landing on my hip. "He said you're on a week of bed rest. You had major surgery, Nathan. You almost—" I bit down on the words before they spilled, tasting the bitterness of what-ifs. Sensing my shift, Leila squirmed in my arms and made a sharp cry.

I bounced her lightly. "See? Even Leila agrees with me."

Nathan's grin returned, more sheepish this time. He hobbled toward the bed and lowered himself down, his movements careful and deliberate. "Okay, okay. I'm sitting. Happy now?"

I didn't answer, too focused on keeping my breathing steady. When I approached him, he reached out, gently tugging me closer. His arms slid around my waist, pulling me between his legs, the weight of his touch grounding me.

"I'm fine," he murmured, his voice dropping low, the kind of tone that made it hard to stay mad at him. His blue eyes searched mine, warm and full of that stupid, stubborn hope he always carried. "I love you."

I couldn't help it; the corners of my mouth twitched upward. "I love you too," I whispered back, just as Leila babbled something between us, her chubby arms reaching for him.

"Da-da,"

Nathan froze, his brows lifting. "Did she just—?"

"Da-da," Leila said again, her little voice clear and deliberate.

My jaw dropped. "Oh my God, Nathan, she said it!" I shifted her toward him, laughing despite the nerves still simmering in my chest.

Nathan's face lit up like the Christmas tree in front of City Hall. "I'd be jumping right now if I could," he said, pulling Leila into his arms. She squealed in delight, patting his cheeks with her tiny hands.

"She likes you more than me already," I said, sinking beside him.

"Not true," Nathan teased, his grin wide as he kissed Leila's forehead. "She's just smarter than we gave her credit for."

"She gets that from me," I shot back, brushing my hair out of my face. But my smile faltered when I heard the familiar creak of the staircase. My mom's voice called out a moment later.

"Mylah?"

"Mom?" I stood up as she stepped into the room, her face tight with something I couldn't quite place. I hugged her, inhaling the faint scent of her lavender perfume. "I thought you and Dad weren't getting back until tonight."

"We weren't," she said, her eyes darting to Nathan before returning to me. Her lips pressed into a thin line. "But we heard what happened."

"I'm fine, Mrs. Evans," Nathan said quickly, his tone polite but strained. "Really."

She didn't answer him, her gaze dipping to the folded paper in her hand. I didn't notice it until she handed it to Nathan.

He unfolded it slowly, his brow furrowing as he scanned the text. "What is this?" he asked, his voice edged with disbelief.

"It's from your father," Mom said. "He's suing us. Reckless endangerment." She said the words like they left a bad taste in her mouth. "It's a weak case, but..."

"But he'll drag it out," I said, finishing her thought.

Mom nodded grimly. "And that's not all. He told me what he really wants."

"What does he want?" Nathan asked, his grip tightening on the paper.

Her gaze flickered between us, softening for just a moment before she said it. "He wants you to move back in with him. And he wants you to break up with Mylah."

The air sucked out of the room, the words hanging heavy like a storm cloud ready to burst. I felt the blood drain from my face as I dropped down beside Nathan.

"Excuse me?" I managed to choke out.

"I told him where he could stick that idea," Mom said, crossing her arms, her voice full of fire. "But he's serious, Nathan. He said he wants your answer soon."

Nathan let out a low, bitter laugh, crumpling the paper in his hand. "Of course he does."

Mom glanced at me, her expression unreadable. "Let me know what you decide," she said quietly before stepping forward to scoop Leila into her arms. "I'm taking her downstairs so you two can talk."

When the door shut behind her, I turned to Nathan, my heart pounding in my chest. "What are we going to do?"

He looked at me, his jaw tight, the weight of everything pressing down on him. "He doesn't get to win, Mylah. Not this time."

"But what if—?"

"My choice is you," he interrupted, his hand cupping my cheek. "It will always be you."

I closed my eyes as his lips brushed my forehead, but the knot in my stomach didn't loosen.

...🏀...

The air was heavy with the scent of vanilla and musk as I pulled my leather jacket off the chair, slinging it over my shoulder. My necklace dangled, catching the faint rays of sunlight streaming through the window, the moonstone glowing faintly. I hesitated for a second, my fingers brushing the delicate chain. It always felt warm against my skin, like Nathan's hands when they cupped my face.

"Mylah!" Mom's voice cut through my thoughts, sharp but calm, like a pebble dropped in still water. I froze mid-step, halfway to the door.

"I'm going to be late, Mom," I called back, irritation coloring my tone. I loved her, but sometimes her timing made me wonder if she had some sixth sense for inconvenience. "The party at TRIC starts in—"

"Come here for a second," she interrupted her voice closer now. My stomach tightened. She never interrupted unless it was serious.

Sighing, I turned toward the living room, where she stood by the fireplace, her arms crossed loosely. She wasn't alone. Beside her stood a woman so surreal that I blinked twice to make sure I wasn't hallucinating.

Beyoncé.

Actual Beyoncé.

Her honey-colored curls cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face that radiated confidence and grace. Her outfit—sleek leather pants paired with a white blouse that screamed effortless elegance.

"Mylah," Mom began, her expression unreadable, "this is—"

"I know who she is," I said, cutting her off, my voice barely above a whisper. My eyes darted between Mom and Beyoncé, my heart pounding like a drumline. "What is she—how is she—?"

Beyoncé smiled, a slow, knowing curve of her lips, and stepped forward. "You have a beautiful voice, Mylah."

My mouth went dry. "Uh...thanks?" It came out as more of a question than a statement.

"I heard you sing," she continued, her tone warm and unhurried. "A friend of mine sent me a video from your performance at TRIC last month."

I nodded, words stuck somewhere in the back of my throat. That night had been a blur—bright lights, sweaty palms gripping the mic, and Nathan's encouraging smile from the crowd. It was supposed to be a one-time thing.

"You have something special," Beyoncé said. "Something raw, something real. I don't say that lightly." She reached into her purse and handed a sleek business card to my mom. "I want you to open for me on my next tour. Call my agent when you're ready."

Silence. Deafening silence. The kind that presses on your ears and makes your pulse feel too loud. Beyoncé stepped toward the door, her heels clicking against the hardwood.

"You don't have to decide right now," she added, glancing over her shoulder. "But don't wait too long. Opportunities like this don't knock twice."

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving me standing like a statue in the middle of the room. My mom turned to me, her expression soft but expectant.

"Well?" she asked, her voice calm, like this wasn't the most insane thing that had ever happened to me.

"I can't," I blurted, shaking my head so hard my curls bounced. "I can't do this."

"Why not?" Mom crossed her arms again, her brow furrowing slightly. "You have a gift, Mylah. You need to share it with the world."

I laughed, but it was sharp, humorless. "Mom, I have a life here. School, Nathan, Leila. I can't just drop everything and go chase some—some dream."

Mom stepped closer, her gaze steady. "You think that's what this is? Just a dream? Mylah, do you have any idea how rare this is? How many people would kill for a chance like this?"

"I don't care about other people," I snapped, my voice rising. "I care about my family."

Her eyes softened, but her tone didn't waver. "Your family loves you, Mylah. And Nathan? He'll understand."

My stomach twisted at the mention of Nathan. "You don't know that," I said, my voice cracking. "He's already dealing with enough—his dad, the accident, the lawsuit. If I leave now..."

Mom placed a hand on my shoulder, her grip firm but gentle. "Nathan loves you. But this isn't just about him. This is about you. Your voice, your talent. It's a part of you, Mylah. And if you don't use it, if you don't at least try, you're going to regret it."

I turned away, my jaw tightening as I stared at the moonstone necklace glinting in the sunlight. "It's not that simple," I said quietly.

"It never is," Mom replied, her voice softer now. "But that doesn't mean it's not worth it."

I sank onto the couch, my hands gripping the edge of the cushion. My mind raced, flipping through a thousand what-ifs and worst-case scenarios. Beyoncé's words echoed in my head:

Opportunities like this don't knock twice.

Mom sat beside me, her hand resting lightly on mine. "Just think about it, Mylah. That's all I'm asking."

The sound of Leila's laughter drifted in from upstairs, and for a moment, the weight on my chest lifted. But it wasn't enough to silence the fear.

How could I think about singing on a stage halfway across the world when my whole world was right here, teetering on the edge of falling apart?

...🏀...

The beach stretched endlessly before me, its curve catching the last blush of the evening sun. Waves lapped against the shore, their rhythm steady and unyielding, like a heartbeat I couldn't quiet. I sat with my knees tucked close to my chest, the sand cool beneath me, grainy against my bare thighs. The moonstone on my necklace caught the fading light, its shimmer teasing me with every subtle shift of my body.

Beyoncé's words haunted me.

"Opportunities like this don't knock twice."

My mom's voice joined the chorus:

"You need to share your gift with the world."

And Nathan... God, what would he even think of this? Would he cheer me on? Or would he see it as me choosing something else over us?

The wind whipped at my hair, tugging strands across my face, but I barely noticed. The thought of leaving Tree Hill, leaving Nathan, tangled around my heart like vines. The weight of it was suffocating.

I didn't hear the footsteps over the crash of the waves. When someone settled beside me, I jumped slightly, startled out of my spiraling thoughts.

"Relax," Peyton said softly, her voice low and raw. She didn't look at me, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "It's just me."

I studied her profile—sharp, delicate lines set against endless blue. There was something in her expression, something heavy. It mirrored what I felt, and for a moment, I didn't know what to say.

"You okay?" I asked tentatively.

Peyton let out a humorless laugh, the sound barely louder than the wind. "Define 'okay.'" She pulled her knees to her chest, hugging them tightly. "Jake's gone. For good this time."

I winced. Jake leaving had been a blow to everyone, but to Peyton? It was a wrecking ball. "I'm sorry."

She shrugged, her eyes finally meeting mine. "Nathan loves you, you know. That's more than what we had."

I frowned, her words digging under my skin. "I don't understand."

Peyton sighed, her breath visible in the cooling air. "Your mom told Brooke about the Beyoncé thing. And, well, Brooke told me."

Of course, she did. My grip tightened on the necklace, the smooth stone grounding me. "Great. So now everyone knows."

Peyton ignored my sarcasm. Instead, she turned to me, her gaze piercing. "There's only one person who could've sent Beyoncé that tape of you singing. And it wasn't me."

Her words landed like a punch to my gut. I blinked, trying to piece them together, but the idea forming in my mind seemed impossible.

It couldn't be...

Peyton didn't wait for a response. She stood, brushing sand off her jeans. "Think about it," she said, her tone as heavy as the waves. Then she walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I stared at the water for a long time, trying to ignore the voice in my head that whispered one name over and over. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I stood, brushing sand off my shorts and thighs, and headed for my car. My feet carried me faster than my mind could protest.

...🏀...

The drive was a blur of headlights and dark stretches of road. The closer I got, the louder the storm in my chest grew. I barely remembered turning off the engine when I pulled into the driveway. My legs felt like lead as I climbed the steps to the door, my fist pounding against the wood before I could think twice.

The door opened, and there he was.

Dan Scott.

His smirk was as cold as ever, his eyes sharp with the kind of cunning that could cut you to pieces before you even knew you were bleeding.

"Well, hello, Mylah," he drawled, leaning casually against the doorframe. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

I didn't waste time on niceties. "You sent Beyoncé my tape, didn't you?" My voice was sharp, trembling with anger and confusion.

Dan didn't flinch. In fact, his smirk deepened. "Guilty as charged."

"Why?" I demanded, my fists clenched at my sides. "Why can't you just let Nathan and me be happy?"

His expression darkened, the smirk giving way to something colder. "Happy?" he repeated as if the word was foreign to him. "I'm thinking about Nathan's future. And yours. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you. It also works out for Nathan. He'll be at High Flyers, focusing on his basketball career, where he belongs."

I shook my head, my anger boiling over. "I'm not breaking up with him if that's what you're thinking."

Dan laughed, the sound low and menacing. "Why? Because you love him?"

I stared at him, my heart hammering in my chest. "Yes," I said quietly but firmly.

He tilted his head, his smirk returning. "And you think he loves you. That's cute."

"He does," I said, my voice rising. "He does love me."

Dan's smile widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. "He can't," he said simply. "Let's be honest. No one can love something that's broken. And you, Mylah...you're broken."

The words hit me like a slap. I flinched, his tone and the mention of Andrew slicing through my defenses.

Dan noticed. Of course, he noticed. "Andrew told me everything," he said smoothly. "Whatever happened between you two left you shattered. You might think you love Nathan, but can you honestly say you've opened up enough to give him the love he deserves?"

I couldn't answer. The silence stretched between us, broken only by the distant rumble of thunder.

"That's what I thought," Dan said, his voice colder now. "The right thing to do for Nathan is to let him go. Go on tour, Mylah. Leave my son alone. He doesn't need you in his life."

He stepped back, shutting the door in my face before I could say another word. I stood there, the rain starting to fall, each drop slicing against my skin like tiny needles.

When I finally turned away, I felt hollow. Dan's words echoed in my head louder than the storm. Nathan deserved better. Better than me.

I climbed into my car, my hands shaking as I pulled out my phone. I scrolled to the number Beyoncé's agent had left and hit dial.

When the line connected, my voice was steady, even as my heart crumbled. "I'm in."

...🏀...

The rain-slicked against the car windows, blurring the glowing airport sign ahead. Tree Hill Regional Airport wasn't much—just a few gates and a coffee shop—but tonight, it felt like the edge of the world. I sat in the back seat, my fingers tightening on the moonstone pendant Nathan had given me, the cool stone pressing into my palm like a tiny anchor.

Mom's voice broke through the hum of the rain. "Do you have everything?"

I nodded, glancing at my small carry-on bag on the seat beside me. "Yeah. I checked my suitcase earlier. They'll take it straight to the plane."

She nodded, but her eyes lingered on me, knowing, watchful. "You ready?"

I turned toward Leila, fastened snugly in her car seat, her curls wild as she slept with her lips slightly parted. "No," I admitted softly. "I don't know if I can do this."

"Honey, look at me," Mom said, her voice firm enough to make me obey. Her brown eyes met mine, and I willed the tears burning at the edges of my vision not to spill. "I'm bringing Leila to you in two weeks. Just focus on your set; before you know it, she'll be there."

I reached over, brushing my fingers gently through Leila's hair. The soft curls wrapped around my fingers like tiny promises I wasn't sure I could keep. "We've never been apart this long. Not since she was born."

"I know, baby." Mom's hand found mine, squeezing tightly. "But you're an amazing mom, Mylah. You're showing her that it's okay to dream. It's okay to go after what you want."

I nodded, though it didn't feel like enough. I stared at Leila, trying to memorize the curve of her tiny nose, the way her eyelashes curled like butterfly wings. My heart ached at the thought of walking away.

"I love her so much," I whispered. "I'm going to call every day until I see her again. It might drive you insane."

"No, it won't." Mom smiled, though it wavered at the edges. "We're going to miss you."

I leaned into her, pulling her into a tight hug. "I love you," I said, the words sticking in my throat.

"I love you too." She rubbed my back. "Be safe."

"I will," I promised, pulling away. My hand reached for the door handle, but her voice stopped me.

"Did you tell Nathan you were leaving?"

I froze, the weight of her question pinning me to the seat. Slowly, I turned back to her, forcing a neutral expression that I knew she'd see right through. "I, um...I broke up with him."

"Excuse me?"

I swallowed hard, meeting her sharp gaze. My throat felt dry as I tried to explain. "He deserves better."

"Better?" Her tone sharpened like a blade. Realization flickered in her eyes, and she grabbed my hands. "Mylah, just because you were raped doesn't mean—"

"I can't love him like he deserves," I interrupted, my voice cracking. "Andrew took that from me, and I don't think I'll ever get it back."

A tear slipped down my cheek, and Mom reached up to wipe it away.

"Listen to me," she said, her voice steady and firm. "That boy has loved you from the moment we moved to Tree Hill twelve years ago. You are his whole world. He never thought he'd have a chance with you, but you gave him one. And if you think for a second that he's going to let you go, honey, you have another thing coming."

I shook my head, pulling my hands free. "He needs to let me go."

The rain hammered against the car windows, blurring the lights of the airport beyond. My fingers grazed the moonstone pendant at my throat, the cool stone grounding me in a way my thoughts refused to. Leila was fast asleep in the backseat, her tiny fists curled against her cheek, oblivious to the storm raging outside—not just the one pouring from the sky, but the one tearing me apart inside.

Turning to Leila, I leaned into the backseat and kissed her forehead. She stirred slightly, her little face scrunching before relaxing again. "Be good for Grandma, okay?" I murmured, my voice breaking.

I pushed the car door open and stepped out into the downpour. The rain soaked through my leather jacket instantly, plastering my curls to my face. I welcomed the chill, letting it numb the ache in my chest. My hand slid into my pocket, brushing against the edges of my plane ticket. Every step toward the terminal felt heavier, as though the weight of what I was leaving behind pressed harder against me.

"Mylah!"

The sound of my name, sharp and desperate, sliced through the rain. I froze, my breath catching as I turned. Through the blur of the storm and the crowd, Nathan was running toward me, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, his jacket clinging to his frame. He was a mess, but he didn't seem to care.

"Nathan?" His name slipped from my lips before I could stop it, my voice trembling.

"You broke up with me in a letter?" he shouted, his voice rough with disbelief as he closed the distance between us.

I flinched, guilt crashing over me like the waves on the shore. "I guess I did," I said, my voice barely audible. Shaking my head, I added, "How did you even get here so fast?"

"Brooke," he replied simply, his tone clipped.

"Nathan, listen—"

"No," he cut me off, stepping closer, his blue eyes burning into mine. "If you're breaking up with me, I need you to say it to my face. That's the only way I'll accept it."

Rain dripped from his chin, his jacket, his hands clenched at his sides. He was unyielding, a storm of his own making. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. His presence was magnetic, the raw emotion in his eyes tethering me to him.

"Nathan..." I tried again, but the sound of footsteps and an angry voice interrupted me.

"Nathan!" Dan Scott's voice boomed, sharp with fury. He stormed through the crowd, his umbrella discarded and his expression livid. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Nathan immediately stepped in front of me, shielding me with his body. "Dad," he said, his voice tight.

Dan's glare was icy as his gaze flicked from his son to me. "I told you she's a bad influence on you. Do you know what this looks like? You sneaking out of the house like some rebellious child?"

Nathan didn't flinch. "It looks like I'm following my heart."

"You're seventeen," Dan snapped, his voice dripping with disdain. "What the hell do you know about following your heart?"

"A lot more than you do," Nathan shot back, his tone calm but cutting. "You only care about yourself, Dad."

Dan scoffed, shaking his head. "So, what? You think you're going to play house with her? News flash, Nathan: she has a daughter. Do you even understand what that means for your future?"

"It doesn't matter," Nathan replied, his voice firm.

Dan's laugh was harsh, bitter. "Don't be an idiot. Think about basketball, your career. You're throwing away your future for some teenage mother—"

"Because I love her, Dad!" Nathan interrupted, his voice loud enough to draw the attention of nearby travelers. Dan froze, his mouth snapping shut as he continued. "I will always love her."

"You don't know what love is," Dan said, his voice quieter now but no less venomous. "You're a kid."

Nathan took a step closer to his father, his jaw set. "I can't breathe without her near me," he said, his words slow and deliberate. "When she's not around, I can't sleep. I can't eat. She makes me better. You wanted her to break up with me, and maybe you got your wish, but I don't care because I won't stop fighting for her. I love her."

"What about your future?" Dan demanded.

Nathan's voice softened, but it didn't lose its strength. "I don't know what my future looks like," he admitted. "But I know I can't live another second without her. Even if that means I'm not your son anymore."

For a moment, Dan looked like he might argue, but then his shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him. "You'll always be my son," he said finally, his tone resigned.

I watched as Dan turned and walked away, disappearing into the storm. My heart thundered in my chest, and every word Nathan had spoken echoed in my ears. His blue eyes softened when he turned back to me, full of raw emotion.

"I meant every word," he said, his voice shaking slightly. He stepped closer. "I love you, Mylah. And I will spend every day of my life proving it to you. You're it for me. There is no one else."

Tears blurred my vision as I rushed toward him, throwing my arms around his neck. I kissed him, pouring every ounce of love, fear, and hope into it. Rain mixed with tears as I pulled back, my forehead resting against his.

"You're it for me, too," I whispered.

"Good," he said, brushing a wet curl from my face. "Because when I told you I'm never letting you go, I meant it."

I laughed softly, the sound breaking through the storm. "I can see that."

He leaned in to kiss me again, and I smiled against his lips. When he pulled back, there was a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You know I burned the letter you wrote me, right?"

I rolled my eyes, laughing. "Of course you did."

"Mylah." A new voice broke through, commanding and familiar. I turned to see Beyoncé standing a few feet away, her umbrella barely protecting her from the storm.

Nathan's eyes widened. "That's Beyoncé."

I nodded, patting his chest gently. "And my boss." I kissed him one last time, lingering long enough to make it count. "I love you. I'll see you when I get back."

Without waiting for his response, I walked toward her, each step feeling like a goodbye. When I reached her, she smirked knowingly.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

I glanced back at Nathan, his figure framed by rain. Then I turned back to her, my heart steadier than it had been in weeks. "Yes," I said.

Beyoncé's smirk deepened. "Good."

As we stepped into the terminal, my heart felt heavy but full. I glanced back at Nathan, his eyes never leaving me.

Goodbye, Tree Hill.