If I Stayed | Christian Yu

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE - EIGHT DAYS LEFT

"Thought I could forget you... buried it in basslines.
But every silence, every stage light...
Still got your name on it."

The room held its breath.

Even the director froze mid-scribble.

"You loved me soft. I loved you loud.
Somewhere in between... we got lost in the sound."

He leaned back just slightly. Let the next line fall like it weighed more than the others.

"So if you see me smiling,
Just know it's for the crowd.
Inside it's raining,
But I'm singing through the clouds."

He stepped back from the mic slowly. No drama. No extra moves. Just pulled the headphones off with a quiet breath and kept his gaze down, unreadable under the scarlet lighting.

The artist whispered, "Holy sh*t."

Christian didn't say a word.

He didn't need to.

The music always knew how to say it for him.

The shoot wrapped soon after. A few handshakes. A group photo. Some quiet claps and mumbled praise that bounced off his shoulders. He gave everyone their flowers, nodded at the director, then dipped before anyone could stop him for more.

Yeah, the video was clean. His verse was already looping in people's heads.

But his own?

Still spinning.

Still loud.

~

He drove home with the windows cracked, some low instrumental playing through the speakers. No lyrics. No reminders. Just a soundscape soft enough to sit with his thoughts.

Once inside, he dropped his keys on the counter, peeled off his hoodie, and stepped into the shower. Hot water hit him like a question he didn't know how to answer. It washed the night off, but not the weight.

By the time he stepped out, towel low on his hips and steam curling around his reflection, the sky had deepened into full navy.

He threw on a faded black hoodie, joggers, and rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flicking toward his phone on the nightstand.

He was reaching for it when-

The doorbell rang.

Sharp. Unexpected. Too late for deliveries.

He frowned, checked the time, then moved down the hallway.

Opened the door.

And froze.

"Aaliyah?"

She stood there, framed in the soft hallway light.

Hair in a messy bun. Hoodie too big. Duffel bag slung low at her side. Her lips parted, like she had something to say, but the words didn't make it out.

Christian's heart kicked once.

Then again.

He blinked, voice rough from everything he hadn't said.

"So I exist again?"

He didn't wait for an answer.

Just turned around and walked back inside, leaving the door open behind him.

Aaliyah stood there for a second. Motionless.

Then she stepped in, quiet as the air between them, and shut the door gently.

She followed.

The soft click of the door echoed louder than it should have.

Aaliyah stood just inside Christian's apartment, fingers gripping the strap of her duffel bag like it was holding her together. Her eyes scanned the space-clean lines, dark tones, subtle lighting. No photos. No clutter. Nothing shared. Nothing familiar.