𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆: 𝐒𝐚𝐝 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 (𝐓𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧) 𝐛𝐲 𝐓𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐭

...🏀...

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓, 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋

𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟓

𝐈 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐰 𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐥 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐤.

The tutor center was quiet, the silence was comforting between the crazed halls of Tree Hill High filled with students either dreading or rushing to class. But for a couple of hours a day, I could pause and breath in the quiet that the center offered me.

I sifted through piles of unorganized files, stacking them into some sort of order. My nails brushed against the manila folders as I read each name, sorting through the students, some I barely knew and some that I did. It was mindless, but exactly what I needed.

"Mylah,"

I closed my eyes briefly as his voice cut through the silence. My fingers curling around the edge of the desk wondering who I pissed off to have the devil incarnate visiting me. I let out a slow, steady exhale before looking up.

Dan stood in the doorway, a smug smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Nathan's not here." I pointed out, straightening. "He's in the gym."

"Oh, I know." He stepped further into the room, adjusting the cuff of his expensive suit. "I was looking for you."

I crossed my arms. "Why?"

The disdain in my voice didn't deter him instead his eyes darkened slightly, amusement flickering in them. "Someone tried to kill me, and I think you know who did it."

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped me because he was serious. "You think I know who set the dealership on fire?" His jaw ticking was the only thing that his patience was thinning. "This is embarrassing even for you, Dan."

His nostrils flared, his polished smug demeanor was fraying at the edges. "You can play dumb all you want, but I will find out the truth."

I didn't move. I didn't even flinch and just met his stare head on with a bored one. "I dont know who tried to kill you. Plus, I wasn't even here when the dealership went on fire. I was on a plane."

Dan narrowed his eyes and I know that he wasn't going to let this go. He was going to hunt down whoever tried to kill him and make them pay and wouldn't even bat an eye if anyone innocent got in his way.

For a moment, it looked like he might say more, but he turned on his heel, storming out of the tutor center.

I let out a breath, forcing my shoulders and hands to relax.

Nice to see you too, Dan.

I shook off the lingering tension from our encounter and turned back to the files, determined to push the whole thing from my mind. However, I'd barely begun sorting again when another voice broke through the quiet.

"So, this is the tutoring center."

My spine stiffened instantly, and I immediately grabbed my bag, gripping tightly to the pepper spray. I couldn't help as my stomach dropped and panic seized me. But I slowed breathing through it and turned, slowly.

Andrew stood in the doorway that Dan had vacant with a wicked smirk plastered across his face. His presence alone set me on edge, filling the room like poison. It had only been a week since I pepper spray and tase him. A week where, for the first time in a long time, I could almost make myself believe that there was a chance, a possibility that maybe I could overcome my fear of him.

Now seeing him in front of me again...I wasn't so sure.

I didn't breathe as he stepped further inside, closing the distance setting me on edge. He moved his hand, and I almost flinched when he pulled out a slip of paper, offering it to me like this was an ordinary occurrence for us.

"It looks like you're my tutor."

No.

I snatched the paper from his hand, my eyes scanning over the words, and the pit in my stomach grew.

My grip tightened on the slip as it was the only thing keeping me from breaking down and having a panic attack right there for him to see. "You've got to be shitting me."

...🏀...

The salty breeze carried laughter as the sun painted the sky in soft streaks of pink and gold. I spread a blanket, smoothing it out over the sand along with my friends just as waves rolled lazily onto the shore.

This—this day was all I wanted for my birthday, much to Brooke's and Camilla's annoyance. 

They wanted a party—a big one. A room packed with strangers, industry executives, and cameras flashing in my face while Camilla paraded me around, hyping my upcoming album. It wasn't about me or the fact that it was my 17th birthday—the first one I actually wanted to celebrate since everything with Andrew.

No, they didn't care about that.

They just wanted to be the first to sign the girl who opened for Beyoncé.

I sank onto the blanket, resting on my elbows, and turned my head toward the water. Nathan stood ankle-deep in the surf, Leila balanced in his arms as she kicked her tiny feet against the waves. 

My lips twitched as her giggles rang out, bright and unrestrained, and I felt something deep in my chest tighten. 

Nathan twirled her, his hands firm yet gentle, the way they always were with her. He laughed as she squealed, the sound tugging a small smile from him—the kind that he usually only reserved from me that softened the sharp edges of his face. 

It hit me then, in a way I had always known but never let myself say out loud. 

Even though Leila wasn't his biologically, she was his. 

She was ours. 

A soft whoosh of air brushed my ear as a candle flickered in front of me. I blinked, turning to see Haley holding a cupcake with a single candle burning on top. Atlas stood beside her, his usual smirk softened at the edges. 

"Make a wish, birthday girl," Haley teased. 

I rolled my eyes but couldn't fight the grin tugging at my lips as I turned to see Peyton, Brooke, Lucas, and even Skills all gathered around, watching me expectantly. Camilla and Alex stood off to the side, smiling like they already knew what I was going to wish for.

My gaze flickered toward Nathan and Leila. He had her tucked securely in his arms, her tiny fingers gripping his shirt as she giggled at something only she found funny. My heart clenched, warmth spreading through my chest.

I closed my eyes, and I blew out the candle.

Cheers erupted around me, but Brooke's voice cut through the noise like a well-aimed dagger.

"Please tell me you wished for you and Nathan to finally have sex," she pleaded dramatically. "Because I seriously cannot take another day of you two eye-fucking each other in public."

My eyes shot open as I smacked her shoulder.

She gasped, rubbing the red mark like I'd actually injured her. "Rude!"

"Brooke Penelope Davis!" I hissed, fighting back a laugh.

"Yes, Mylah Persephone Evans?" she blinked at me, all innocence, like she hadn't just embarrassed me in front of half our friends.

I open my mouth when my daughter's giggles reached my ears. My brows narrowed at Brooke playfully before turning just as Nathan wandered over with Leila in his arms. Haley stands, taking my daughter from his arms, with Atlas coming to her side. 

The only thing running through my mind was that Atlas must have finally taken my advice and told Haley how he felt—because they were closer than ever. And honestly, they were good for each other. Haley needed something steady, something real, especially now.

With everything going on, she deserved good.

Especially after her parents decided to uproot their lives, sell the house, and travel the country—without even asking how she felt about it.

Now, she was staying at my place for the rest of senior year, trying to pretend like it didn't hurt. But I knew better.

A hand grabbed mine and pulled me gently to my feet. I furrowed my brows at my boyfriend as he pulled me from our friends. "Where are you taking me?" 

His grip tightened slightly, his thumb brushing against mine. "I have a surprise for you." 

I let Nathan guide me up the boardwalk, curiosity simmering beneath my skin. This wasn't about Andrew—I had told Nathan the second I found out I'd been assigned as his tutor, and I was already working on a way to get out of it.

When we reached a small wooden table, my feet stalled. My breath caught in my throat.

The table.

The one where I had first started tutoring him, back when our parents would have lost their minds if they ever found out.

Back when I was still a shell of the girl I used to be—before Nathan brought color back into my world.

Blue hydrangeas were carefully placed on the surface, petals scattered like something pulled straight from a dream. And at the center, resting on the worn wood, was a black leather-bound book.

My pulse quickened.

I turned to Nathan, but he was already watching me, something unreadable in his expression.

"What is this?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

His lips twitched in something between nervousness and excitement. "It's your birthday gift." 

Slowly, I sat down, my fingers tracing over the leather before carefully opening it. 

My breath left me entirely. 

The first olive-green page held a picture of me mid-laugh, an ice cream cup clutched in my hand, pure joy frozen in time. I flipped to the next page—me at the piano, completely lost in a world only music could take me to, unaware of the camera capturing the moment.

Another turn, and I was on stage, microphone outstretched, my expression caught between disbelief and something close to awe. The crowd blurred behind me, their faces a sea of emotion.

I blinked, glancing up at Nathan, shaking my head. "You were at High Flyers all summer," I murmured. "How?"

He smirked, leaning casually against the back of my chair, waiting. "I snuck out with a friend I made down there, drove five hours to see you in Atlanta. We got chewed out when we got back, but it was worth it."

I stared at him, speechless, my heart twisting in a way I wasn't prepared for.

Nathan just jerked his head toward the book, nudging me to keep going.

So I did.

The next page squeezed my chest so tight I forgot how to breathe.

Leila.

She was everywhere. One picture showed her crawling across the living room floor, determination on her tiny face. Another had her in her high chair, mid-throw, sending a handful of Cheerios flying straight at Lucas, whose expression was a perfect mix of betrayal and exhaustion.

But it was the last one that made me smile, my fingers grazing the page.

Skills held Leila at arm's length while she reached for him, her little hands grasping the air, determined. Atlas and Haley stood in the background, laughing at whatever chaos had just unfolded.

I shook my head, warmth filling my chest.

But then I turned another page—and froze.

It was us.

Me and Nathan, captured in quiet moments I never knew he had saved.

In one, I was staring off into the distance, lost in thought. I had no idea what had caught my attention, but it didn't matter—because he wasn't looking at whatever it was.

Nathan's piercing blue eyes were locked on me.

Even in the stillness of the photograph, his expression took my breath away. Because every time he looked at me like that, it felt like I was his entire world.

I flipped again, my throat tightening.

Leila sat in my arms, my head thrown back in laughter. And beside me—Nathan. His arm wrapped around my waist, his eyes on us, filled with something so unmistakably like happiness.

I pressed my fingers to the page, my vision blurring, the weight of it all settling deep in my chest.

But then I saw the letters. 

Each one labeled in Nathan's handwriting: 

𝙊𝙥𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙙 (𝙗𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙧𝙮).

𝙊𝙥𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙥𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 (𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙚).

𝙊𝙥𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙨 𝙢𝙚 (𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙗𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙄'𝙢 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪).

A watery laugh escaped me as I traced over the words, my hand trembling. I looked up at Nathan, my vision blurred with unshed tears. He opened his mouth like he wanted to explain, to say something, but I didn't need him to.

This—this—wasn't just a gift. It was proof.

Proof that Nathan saw me.

Not just the version of me that I showed to the world, but all of me. The broken, the scarred, the parts I still wasn't sure I would ever fully get back.

And he loved me anyway.

Most guys would have run. If I told them about what Andrew had done to me, how he raped and abused me. And if that hadn't scared them away, Andrew's presence in my life certainly would have.

But Nathan stayed.

Nathan chose me, over and over again. Not because he was trying to save me, not because he saw me as something fragile, but because he loved me. Every version of me. Even if I never became the girl I used to be.

A sob escaped before I could stop it, and then I was moving, my body acting on instinct before my mind could catch up.

I pressed onto my toes, my fingers tangling into the fabric of his shirt, gripping him like he was the only solid thing left in the world, and I kissed him.

Hard. Desperate.

Like I was drowning, and he was the only thing keeping me afloat.

Nathan didn't hesitate. He responded instantly, his arms winding around me, crushing me against him like he needed this just as badly as I did. His lips were warm, familiar, but there was something new there too—something deeper, something unspoken.

I felt his hands slide up my back, his fingers curling into my hair, holding me in place as he kissed me harder, deeper. Like he was trying to tell me everything he had ever wanted to say in the way our mouths moved together.

Tears slipped down my cheeks, but I didn't care. I kissed him again and again, gasping softly when he angled his head, his lips brushing mine in a way that sent shivers racing down my spine.

My fingers curled into the fabric of his white shirt, anchoring myself to him as his tongue slid against mine, slow and deliberate, like he wanted to savor every second of this. Like he wanted to memorize the way I felt, the way I tasted, the way I was his.

When I finally pulled back, my lips still lingering against his, I whispered, "I love you."

Nathan's blue eyes flickered with something I couldn't name, something raw and real. He smiled—one of those rare, genuine smiles that made his entire face soften, made my chest ache in the best way.

"I know," he murmured, his voice teasing, but his eyes said everything.

I let out a breathless laugh, resting my forehead against his. "Shut up."

His grin widened as he pulled me closer, his lips brushing against mine once more.

...🏀...

The ravens lost...again. 

I shivered against the cold air just as the sun dipped below the tree line, leaving behind a deep orange glow that painted everything in gold. Whitey Durham Fieldhouse doors slammed open every few seconds, the sound echoing off the concrete as disappointed fans and frustrated players filed out, their murmurs low and bitter. 

I stood outside the gym, shifting my weight from one leg to the other, the gravel crunching under my white cheer shoes. My blue long sleeves did nothing to stop the bite of the cool night air against my skin, but I didn't move, keeping my eyes on the door, waiting. 

The second Nathan stepped out, I pushed off the wall. His head was down, hair damp like he just got out of the shower, duffel bag slung over one shoulder. A white shirt peeked out from underneath his gray pullover. He looked tired—worn in a way I hadn't seen since preseason started. 

But when he looked up and saw me, his mouth broke out into a smile. 

I rushed towards him and he dropped his bag without hesitation, arms wide as I collided with his chest. He caught me, lifting me off my feet with ease. A soft giggle escaped me before his mouth found mine.

I closed my eyes, melting into him, my arms wrapping around his neck. His lips moved against mine slowly, like he had all the time in the world. Like the loss didn't matter. 

When my feet touched the ground again, I pulled back just enough to look at him. His arms stayed wrapped tightly around me like he wasn't ready to let go.  

"I'm sorry about the game," I whispered.

"It's okay." Nathan gave me a small smile, but I could see the disappointment tucked behind it. "You're here. That's all I care about." He peered behind me and his jaw clenched as he glared. "And the worst part about losing is seeing you afterward."

"Then stop losing." Dan explained blatantly, and I looked over my shoulder just as his eyes flicked to me, slow and deliberate. "By the way, I think I isolated your problem—it's your girlfriend."

My arms dropped from Nathan's neck. "Seriously?"

Nathan stepped forward, placing himself slightly in front of me. "Leave her out of this."

"I would," Dan said coolly, "but she keeps showing up. And Nathan, I know you're used to pulling C's in history, so let me give you a little help—it has a way of repeating itself."

Nathan stiffened beside me. I frowned. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" 

Dan's gaze lingered on us, sharp and knowing, like he held some secret just out of reach. The way he smirked, so sure of himself, sent irritation clawing up my spine. If he had something to say, why not just say it?

But instead of giving us an answer, he turned on his heel and strolled away like none of it mattered. 

What the hell is he talking about? 

Nathan clenched his fists, his shoulders rigid. I reached out to touch his arm, but before I could say anything, someone stepped into the space Dan had just left.

My stomach dropped.

Andrew.

"Hey," he said, smirking. "When's our next tutoring session?"

My body went stiff, but I held my ground. "Never."

His smirk twitched. "That's not what the schedule says."

"I don't care what it says. I'm quitting."

Andrew's eyes darkened, and he took a threatening step forward. "You're not quitting."

I stepped back instinctively, grabbing for the taser in my bag, but Nathan was already moving, placing himself between us.

"Back. Off," Nathan growled, shoving Andrew hard in the chest.

Andrew stumbled, surprised, but his laughter followed a beat later. It was cold and smug, like this was a game to him. 

Like I was a game.

"You sure you wanna do that?" he asked, brushing off his jacket like Nathan's shove had been an inconvenience more than anything. "We both know what happens if you lay another hand on me. You'll be off the team before your next practice."

Nathan didn't move. He didn't even flinch. "You think I care?" His voice was low, sharp enough to cut steel. "I'll gladly get kicked off the team if it means I get to kick your ass first."

My heart lurched, adrenaline and panic slamming through me at once. "Nathan," I whispered, stepping in between them and placing both hands on his chest. His heartbeat thundered under my palms, wild and uneven.

"Don't," I said quietly, only for him. "That's what he wants."

Nathan's eyes stayed locked on Andrew, sharp and unyielding, like he was willing him to burst into flames right where he stood. But beneath my fingers, I felt the faintest shift.

A breath.

A pause.

I turned my head slightly, keeping my body between them, still feeling the rigid tension coiling in Nathan's muscles. My voice came out steady. 

"You need to leave," I told Andrew.

He didn't move right away. His gaze flicked between us, something dark and calculating lurking beneath the surface. Then, just like the psychopath he was, his lips curled into a slow, sinister smile that made my stomach twist.

"See you around, Mylah."

He turned and walked off like he hadn't just shattered my fragile sense of peace with nothing but his presence.

I stayed still, watching until he disappeared from sight before finally exhaling. My hands remained pressed lightly against Nathan's chest, but his body was still tight, his jaw locked. His chest rose and fell like he'd just gone ten rounds on the court—except this wasn't exhaustion. 

It was rage.

"What?" I asked him gently.

"You should've let me hit him," he said, voice hoarse.

"I didn't want—"

Nathan cut me off before I could say another word.

"I don't give a fuck about basketball, Mylah. Not when it comes to you."

His voice hit me like a slap—sharp, unfiltered, raw. But it wasn't the words themselves that stopped me in my tracks. It was the way he said them—angry, aching, unraveling at the seams.

Then he stepped back.

Away from me.

I wrapped my arms around my stomach, trying to keep everything from spilling out. "What the hell does that mean?"

Nathan dragged a hand through his hair, pacing a few steps before stopping, his jaw tight. "It's nothing. Forget I said anything."

But I couldn't. I wouldn't.

I swallowed hard, my throat tightening. "Do you honestly think I want Andrew here?"

He let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. "I don't know what you want anymore, Mylah." His voice cracked at the edges. "I do know ever since he showed up, you haven't been the same."

My heart slammed against my ribs. 

Don't say it. 

Don't go there.

"You haven't finished a song." His voice softened, but the weight behind it didn't. "You haven't recorded a single track. You've been dodging Camilla for weeks. And now you're quitting the tutoring center?"

I dropped my gaze, my fingers digging into my arms. The words cut deeper than I wanted to admit.

"I'm watching you pretend like everything's fine," Nathan continued, his tone lower now, careful. "But it's not. And I don't even know the full story of what he did to you—" He swallowed hard. "I know you'll tell me when you're ready. But from what I do know...it was bad."

I sucked in a sharp breath, shaking my head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Nathan didn't waver. "Yes, you do."

His voice wasn't angry anymore. Just tired.

"I hear you crying in your sleep, Mylah." He looked at me then, really looked at me. "The other night, you didn't even know I was there, but I stood in your doorway...and you were curled up in bed, crying like your entire world was ending."

His words cracked something deep inside me, a fissure splitting open.

"I know you didn't want me to lie to you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "But is lying to yourself any better?"

I wanted to fight back, to deny it, to bury it under every wall I had ever built.

But I couldn't.

Because I wasn't getting better.

Each time Andrew showed up, I felt myself slipping further, drifting toward the deep end. And I wasn't sure if I'd be able to swim my way out by the time senior year ended.

I was drowning.

But I didn't have the luxury of breaking.

Not when I was a mother. Not when Leila needed me. Not when Camilla and my friends were counting on me. 

Everyone always needed me. 

So I didn't argue. Didn't lash out.

Because Nathan saw through all of it. And hearing the truth come from him—the one person who always saw me, even when I didn't want to be seen—left me exposed.

Nathan stepped closer and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead. When he pulled back, he reached into his pocket and placed his truck keys in my hand.

"I'm walking home," he mumbled.

"Nathan..." My voice barely made a sound.

But he was already turning. Already walking away.

I didn't call him back.

I just stood there, frozen, watching him disappear into the dark. And when I couldn't see him anymore, my hands trembled. My vision blurred.

A tear slipped down my cheek.

"Mylah?"

I turned at the sound of my name, startled. Brooke stood a few feet away, fresh out of the gym, still in her cheer uniform. Her usual easy smile faded the second she saw my face.

"What's wrong?" she asked, stepping closer.

I shook my head, my voice catching in my throat. "I think...I finally pushed him away."

Brooke didn't hesitate. She just pulled me into her arms.

And I let her.

My fingers gripped the back of her jacket, my chest caving in from the unbearable weight of it all. Heartbreak didn't hit all at once. It crept in quietly, like a slow, suffocating fog, until suddenly, you couldn't breathe.

"I don't know how to get him back," I whispered, voice cracking.

And for the first time in a long time...

I didn't know how to fix it.

Because maybe love wasn't enough when you were too broken to let it in.

...🏀...

The dressing room smelled of expensive perfume, freshly steamed fabric, and anxiety.

My anxiety.

I stood in front of the mirror, staring at the reflection of a girl I barely recognized. The pale blue fabric clung to my body, delicate yet battle-worn, its edges frayed like something beautiful that had weathered a storm.

Fitting, considering the storm brewing inside me.

My curls tumbled down my back, still damp from the heat of the lights, my makeup flawless despite the tightness in my chest.

I exhaled slowly, pressing a hand against my stomach as if I could quiet the ache gnawing at my insides.

Beyond this room, beyond these walls, millions of people were waiting—expecting. They wanted her. The rising star who had opened for Beyoncé. The small-town girl who had fought for every inch of this dream and was finally living it.

Except I wasn't.

Because Nathan wasn't here.

Because the last time I saw him, I let him walk away.

The sharp knock on the door yanked me back to reality. "Five minutes," a stagehand called.

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me.

The door creaked open, and Camilla stepped inside, her sharp eyes scanning me in one sweep. She let out a sigh, planting a hand on her hip.

"You're thinking too much," she said.

I forced a weak smile. "Isn't that my job?"

"Not tonight." She stepped forward, extending her hand. In it, she held my olive-green microphone—the one I hadn't touched since the tour ended. 

"Sing from the heart, Mylah."

A frown pulled at my lips as I eyed the mic. "I already picked my song—"

"Pick another."

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.

Camilla tilted her head, her gaze piercing. "You want to reach him, don't you?"

The words hit like a gut punch.

I flinched, hating how easily she could see through me.

She nodded once, pressing the mic into my palm. "Then do it."

I stared at it, my fingers tightening around the familiar weight, my pulse thudding in my ears.

I knew exactly which song I had to sing.

And I knew exactly who I was singing it for.

...🏀...

The stage lights exploded to life, casting me in a golden glow as the first haunting notes hummed from the band. The audience stilled, the weight of anticipation pressing down on the room like a held breath.

I lowered myself onto the stage floor, my dress pooling around me, the tattered edges trailing against the cool surface. Behind me, my dancers stood like silhouettes, waiting for their cue.

I pressed my fingers to the moonstone pendant resting against my collarbone, feeling its familiar weight.

I wasn't supposed to sing this song.

I had written it barely forty-eight hours ago—on the flight from Tree Hill, with tear-stained lyrics scrawled across my notebook, my heart raw from watching Nathan walk away.

But I needed him to hear me.

So I did the only thing I knew how—I sang.

"Long handwritten note deep in your pockets."

My voice was soft at first, the words unraveling like a secret, barely above a whisper.

Behind me, the dancers moved—two figures entwined, pushing and pulling, their bodies mirroring a love that had unraveled into something unrecognizable.

"Your face in a locket."

I lifted my head, my eyes tracing their movements, watching them fight, reach for each other, only to slip through each other's grasp.

"Good girls, hopeful they'll be, and long they will wait."

Slowly, I pushed to my feet, my voice growing stronger.

I walked to center stage, my pulse pounding, my heart lodged somewhere between my ribs. The dancers twisted and spun behind me, their bodies colliding in silent heartbreak.

I let the words hit exactly where they needed to.

"What a sad, beautiful, tragic love affair."

The dancers faltered, fingertips barely brushing, missing by inches.

Just like Nathan and me.

I turned slightly, pointing softly toward them, my voice thick with emotion as I watched their story play out—love and ruin intertwined, impossible to separate.

Slowly, I faced the camera.

Faced him.

"We both wake in lonely beds in different cities."

My voice cracked, but I didn't try to fix it.

"And you got your demons and, darlin', they all look like me."

The music swelled, wrapping around me, pulling me under.

The bridge hit, a tidal wave crashing over me, and I let my emotions take the lead.

"Distance, timing."

The dancers tore apart, spinning in opposite directions.

"Breakdown, fighting."

They collided again, bodies twisting, reaching—losing.

"Silence, the train runs off its tracks."

I gripped the microphone tighter, my breath uneven, my chest rising and falling with the weight of everything I was pouring out.

"Kiss me, try to fix it."

I stepped forward, my voice rising, each note vibrating with something desperate.

"Could you just try to listen?"

My throat burned, my heart raw, my voice pleading.

"Hang up, give up. And for the life of us, we can't get back."

I turned away from the camera, lowering myself back to the ground. My fingers ghosted over the stage floor as I exhaled, my eyes falling shut for a moment.

The final words left me in a breath.

"What a sad, beautiful, tragic love affair."

The drums built, a heartbeat beneath the melody, as I lifted my head. My hazel eyes locked onto the lens, onto him.

"Beautiful, tragic. Beautiful."

My voice was barely above a whisper now, the last note lingering in the air, stretching into silence.

"What we had, a beautiful magic love there."

The final chord rang out, and the room held its breath.

"What a sad, beautiful, tragic love affair."

For a second, nothing.

Suddenly, the studio erupted in applause, the audience launching to their feet. The sound crashed against me, deafening, but all I could hear was the pounding in my chest.

I stayed there, still gripping the microphone, still absorbing the weight of what I had just put into the world.

"Mylah Evans, everyone!"

Steve Carell's voice broke through the roaring applause as he stepped onto the stage, clapping along with the rest of the room.

I slowly got to my feet, my body feeling weightless and heavy all at once.

I barely heard him.

Because somewhere out there, Nathan had heard me.

I just didn't know if it was enough.

...🏀...

𝐀/𝐍: MY BABIES 😭😭!!!!

I'M SORRY BUT IT HAD TO HAPPEN. PLEASE DON'T BE MAD 🫣.

As my exam is over, I can now start updating again. Now that being said, I think that Mylah and Nathan might be the ones getting more updates than my other books because my babies are once again taking over my life. It was so hard to study for my exam because every time I was reaching for my laptop so I can write. 

However, during that time, I did some plotting and have the next and final act completely plotted and the second book has a TITLE and a SYNOPSIS. 

Anyway, I know some of y'all might be upset with the angst in this chapter, but just know chapter 26 is next...😏 (if you know you know aka if you read it before the rewrite). But I did give Nathan and Leila some moments in this chapter like y'all asked. Also keep the scrapbook in the back of your mind because it will be not going anywhere 😉.

Without further ado...

𝐒𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐏𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐄 & 𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒

𝕚𝕟 𝕨𝕙𝕚𝕔𝕙 𝕒𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕣𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕠𝕗 𝕡𝕠𝕡 𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕙𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕠𝕨𝕟 𝕒𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕙𝕦𝕤𝕓𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 ℕ𝔹𝔸 𝕒𝕔𝕔𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕟𝕠𝕥 𝕠𝕟𝕝𝕪 𝕗𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕒 𝕕𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕜𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕠𝕟 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕟𝕠 𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥

If you can't tell, Nathan and Mylah are Taylor coded. 

Also, Mylah can't seem to catch a break. 

𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: How do we feel about the book so far? How are we feeling about the fight? Would you want Keith to still be killed off or saved? Are we excited for book two (I know I am)? What else are you guys looking forward to or wanting in the rest of the act???

-𝑀𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑛𝑎 𝐵𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘