Chapter 1
BECKETT
We need to talk.
The text blinked on my notification bar, but I refused to open it. Just four words. But any man who’d been dating for as long as I had, knew those words always preceded a breakup.
Sasha had hinted at wanting to end us once. And now? I was close to achieving my goal. I couldn’t let her end us. Not without her seeing what our near future looked like.
Without replying, I dumped the phone on the table and picked up the half-finished coffee by the mixing console. Beside it was my lyric notebook with a pen between the pages. I made a sound as the coffee slid down my throat. It was cold. No thanks to the hours I’d been locked here.
Forcing myself out of my reverie, I fixed my eyes on the monitor as the last take of the night played through the speakers. Every note sounded clearer and crisper than anything I’d ever recorded in those narrow back-street cheaper rooms that smelled of sweat, alcohol, and dust.
This studio was different with the faint metallic tang of expensive equipment hanging in the air. The soundproof walls gleamed a deep charcoal under soft amber lights.
It cost more per hour than my rent. I was proud to earn a right to a place like this. But the clarity of the playback also made me feel exposed, like every imperfection had nowhere to hide. I couldn’t afford to make any mistakes.
Leaning forward, I adjusted the equalizer, and the bass dipped by half a decibel. Much better and a little cleaner.
“Alright,” said Jay, the audio engineer, over the talk-back mic. “That’s a wrap for track seven. You wanna run the final edits tonight or call it? It’s getting late, Beckett.”
Not yet. I pressed the space bar, cutting the playback.
“Run it. I’ll feel better once I hear the full thing,” I said.
Jay chuckled from the booth, rubbing his eyes. He was the owner of this studio. Ron, the movie producer, linked me up with him. What was supposed to be a five-day event for rich people who loved wine had turned out to be the biggest blessing of my life. I’d given my best as an invited singer, and now I was reaping the fruits of that.
It still felt so surreal to think Ron had only heard me singing and decided I was good enough to have songs in his upcoming romcom movie. The Moon Goddess finally favored me. She’d given me a chance to prove my parents wrong and build a better life for my long-term girlfriend who was in New York chasing her fashion dreams.
“Man, you always say that. Are you ever gonna sleep?”
“Eventually,” I replied. “Maybe after the movie drops.”
“Suit yourself,” he said. I tried not to grin. “Your funeral.
Exhaustion might be an issue for him as a human, but I was fine. I’d cut back on so many of my shifts. Recording was my whole life now. I reclined in the chair, stretching until my shoulders popped. The ceiling lights flickered across the black surfaces, and the entire space hummed.
Every song I was working on now would play on scenes people paid to watch. Faces I might never meet would sing along to words I wrote alone at three or four in the morning. Maybe I could upload them to streaming apps after the movie’s release or the distribution window allowed. But that was something to worry about later.
Right now, I should be happy. Everything I’d dreamed about was finally lining up, but I felt hollow. I retrieved my phone, its screen lighting my face in blue. Sasha’s name sat at the top of the message list with the title: Babe.
On tapping once, the message box opened. I stared until my vision blurred, thumb hovering over the keyboard.
What would I even say? I locked the screen again.
Jay poked his head through the door. “You zoning out on me or meditating?”
“Neither,” Beckett muttered. “Just thinking.”
“Dangerous habit.” Jay pointed to the clock. “It’s past midnight. Need me to bounce the files before I leave?”
“Yes. Label them by scene. Ron wants the order clean.”
“Got it.” Gathering his things, he nodded. “You good to close up?”
“Na,” I told him. “I’ll stay for a while.”
“Don’t break anything. This setup costs more than my car.”
When the door shut behind him, silence filled the room. I turned the volume down and replayed the instrumental alone. The soft, certain tune of the guitar floated in, and the melody rose and fell like a heartbeat. It was supposed to underscore a scene about loss and letting go. Funny how easily I could write about that when I couldn’t do it.
Would Sasha recognize herself in the rhythm? Would she know I had written every chord thinking of her? Of that smile she wore when she promised to believe in me?
Before the song ended, I shut the monitor off. As the night wore off, I packed my book, slid my phone into my pocket, and headed out. The polished floor reflected long stretches of light, the air heavy with the scent of coffee.
The elevator ride down felt endless. When the doors opened, the hum of Maplecrest County rushed back in. The world was always moving, even when I felt stuck.
My car waited by the curb, the paint glinting under the streetlamps. I slid in, closed the door, and sat there. The dashboard lights flickered over my hands, coating them in shades of gold and shadow. I unlocked my phone and tapped on her social media page. It loaded immediately.
Sasha’s account was public. Bright photos of fabrics and sketches splashed on my screen. There were pictures of her with other contestants but nothing more about The Norbe Summer Fashion Camp. If she was lucky to win, she’d get an internship with The Norbe, a new fashion design agency. I scrolled slower, noting her in colors I never saw her wear at home. In every frame, she looked happier.
Guilt and longing twisted together. We hadn’t officially broken up, but it looked like she’d moved on. Or maybe she’d simply become who she was always meant to be.
The silence stretched, and I set the phone face-down on the passenger seat. As I was about to start the car, the phone buzzed. I picked it up. It was an unknown number.
“Hello?” I said into the phone.
“Evening,” came the man’s polite voice. “Mr. Halbrook? This is Martin Ross from Everstead Realty. You asked to be notified about new listings in the Upper End area?”
“Yeah,” I said, snapping back to reality. “That’s me.”
The Upper End was along the town’s border, a bit more expensive than any place I’d lived since moving here. While I wanted our home to be in Maplecrest so Sasha could visit her family often, I needed a place most people didn’t recognize me. It was close to important spots, too.
“I’ve got an apartment that just opened up. Renovated kitchen, decent light. Overall, a great place. If you’re still looking, I can meet you there in… twenty?”
“Sure.” I checked the dashboard clock. It was late, but when my mouth opened, I told him, “Send the address.”
“Perfect. See you soon.”
The call ended, and I exhaled.
A few minutes later, my phone beeped with the location. I started the engine, arriving at the place in less than twenty minutes. The building stood on a narrow street lined with trees. It would look picturesque in winter. The housing agent waited out front, a tall man in a gray coat.
“Mr. Halbrook,” he greeted warmly. “Right on time.”
“Martin Ross?” I asked, and he nodded. He stretched his hand, and I took it. “Thanks for showing it this late.”
“No problem. Happens all the time with customers.” He smiled softly and unlocked the door. “Let’s take a look.”
The apartment was clean with white walls, fresh paint, and hardwood floors that still smelled new. The living area opened to a small balcony with iron rails. A single bedroom led off the hall. It was simple but comfortable.
My fingers trailed along the smooth edge of the tables while inspecting the place slowly. Objectively speaking, the place was perfect. Quiet and affordable with enough space for one person to exist without feeling cramped. But I had a girlfriend who would need space for her craft.
“So?” the agent asked. “What do you think?”
“It’s nice.” Glancing around, I admitted, “But it’s not it.”
His brows furrowed as he took me in. “Not it?”
“It’s too… small.”
Not enough space for Sasha’s bright energy. For her shelves and the many things I’d need to set up her studio.
“Small?” Martin chuckled softly, shaking his head. “It’s the perfect single-bedroom. Unless you have a family?”
Almost under my breath, I muttered, “Not yet.”
“Alright,” he replied. “No problem. We’ll keep looking. But it would help a lot if I know exactly what you want.”
Simple. I wanted something Sasha could call home.
Hey Queens. Thank you for choosing TVR. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it.
For premium satisfaction, I suggest you read The Defective Alpha first. It will make TVR much easier for you to understand since it follows the same timeline. Don’t worry, TDA is also available to read for free. Just head on to my profile, and you’ll find the book.
If you choose to go ahead with reading this first, don’t blame me for any confusion. Or in worse case, spoilers ;)
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Started: December 1st, 2025
Q: What day did you start reading?
