When I Stopped Singing for Her

After the concert ended, the backstage area was even noisier than the stage had been.

Champagne corks popped right beside my ears.

"We broke the record! The livestream just hit a new peak!"

"Lena and Liam made history tonight!"

I stood beside the sound console, still dressed in my silver-gray suit.

The screen replayed footage from the concert.

Under the spotlight, Liam held Lena's hand as he sang along to the backing vocals I had stayed up until 4:00 a.m. to record just three days earlier.

Fans wept in the audience. Comments flooded the screen.

[Liam's voice is so pure.]

[The second he opens his mouth, I want to fall in love.]

[Lena really found the perfect voice.]

I lowered my head and glanced at the pass around my neck. It read: [Sound Engineering Team, Julian Payne]

A staff member hurried past, brushing against the hem of my jacket. "Sorry, man."

He hadn't even noticed how sharply I was dressed.

When Lena stepped offstage, a crowd immediately gathered around her. She caught sight of me and paused. "Julian."

I looked up. She held out the water bottle in her hand. "The backing track was solid."

That was all. No "Thanks for all your hard work." Nothing else.

I took the bottle. It was cold to the touch.

The matching bracelet Liam had slipped onto her wrist onstage was still there.

I stared at it for two seconds.

Lena followed my gaze, and her fingers curled slightly. "He added that on the spot. The fans like seeing things like that."

I nodded.

She seemed relieved, though she still looked as if she had something to say.

Her manager, Danson Moore, called from across the room, "Lena! The brand representatives are waiting for photos!"

Before she turned away, she glanced at me. "Go home early."

Then she left.

Liam approached with a bouquet of flowers. The first thing he did was reach for my hand. "Julian, we couldn't have done it without you tonight."

Several staff members nearby smiled.

Someone chimed in, "Liam really knows how to show his appreciation. He even remembered to thank the man behind the scenes."

Liam's smile grew more relaxed. "If Julian hadn't helped me with my breathing on those high notes, my voice would've cracked for sure."

He leaned closer to my ear and lowered his voice. "Bro, I feel terrible about this."

I glanced at the pin on his collar. "It's nothing."

Liam blinked. "Lena was the one who made the decision. I had no choice but to go along with it."

I gave him a faint smile.

He immediately released my hand and hurried toward the fan support group.

"Liam! Over here!"

He raised the bouquet and smiled for the cameras.

…

At the celebration party, Danson raised his glass. "Everyone worked hard tonight, especially Lena and Liam."

Applause filled the room.

I sat at the far end of the long table.

Trending topics scrolled across the screen.

[Lena and Liam's duet.]

[Liam's angelic voice.]

[Lena thanks Liam.]

Ethan Neeson, one of the sound engineers, nudged me. "Julian, are you recording the backing vocals for the new song next week too?"

I was about to answer when Danson cut in, "Let Julian handle the backing vocals. He's the most reliable."

The most reliable… He said those three words so casually. They felt like a cheap stamp slapped onto three years of late nights that stretched until dawn, strained vocal cords, stomachaches, and takeout meals gone cold.

Lena sat at the head of the table. She had heard him. Her hand paused briefly around her glass, but she didn't look at me.

…

After everyone left, I returned to my workstation to pack up.

My in-ear monitor case was inside the drawer.

I opened it. The black earpieces rested inside, my name engraved along their sides.

The engraving had worn almost smooth.

Three years ago, Lena had pressed the case into my hand. "Once we make it big, you'll wear these onstage, and everyone will know your name."

I traced the faded engraving with my fingertip. The earpieces were cold to the touch.

Someone called from outside, "Julian, you heading out?"

I closed the case. "You guys go ahead."

"Aren't you taking your in-ears?"

I glanced at the case. "I'll leave them here."

He paused in surprise. "You used to carry them everywhere."

I pushed the drawer shut. "I'm tired tonight."

…

By the time I got home, it was already late.

I turned on my computer. An email from two weeks earlier was still sitting in my inbox. It was from a producer at an independent record label in Norvale.

[There's something about your voice that makes people stop and listen. We'd like to invite you to record an album of your own.]

I stared at those words for a long time.

The cursor blinked.

Finally, I typed: [I will think about it.]

After I sent those five words, the screen dimmed.

In the corner of my desktop sat an encrypted, password-protected folder. Its name was a date from exactly one year ago.