Page 78 of Siren

She looked like someone who belonged to no one.

Not even me.

The caption read:

The siren herself. No co-star needed.

My jaw tensed. I didn’t even know I was holding my breath until I heard the door swing shut.

“You good?” Amir asked.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

Even I didn’t believe it.

He dropped a USB on the console and leaned against the board. “Final mix ofHeavy Soulis in. Numbers look good. But I need you locked in for the next one.”

I stared at the screen. Didn’t move. Didn’t blink. When would be the next one? The label was quiet and seemed to be over a second album coming from me.

He waited a beat. Then, “This about Sienna?”

I didn’t answer right away. Not because it wasn’t. Butbecause it was too much of her and not enough of me all at once.

“It’s about the silence,” I said, voice low. “That strange quiet after people start clapping… for someone else.”

Amir tilted his head. “You knew she was fire, man.”

“I did. But I didn’t expect her light to be this bright without me.”

I hated sounding this… unsure. That wasn’t who I was. Not in the booth. Not in the streets. Not when it came to my name.

But love? That shit leveled you.

I knew how tough I could be. Knew the world read me like a hardback—hardcover, hard edges, unflinching spine.

But an artist? A real one? We got soft spots. Gooey, bleeding, untended soft spots. You had to. To write ballads and whisper heartbreak through a mic. To croon to women around the world.

To croon toher.

Amir looked at me—hard. But not with pity. With truth. “That woman’s been fire since before either of us had a damn studio to step into. You didn’t light her. You just didn’t dim her. And that? That matters.”

I swallowed thick, fingers tightening around the edge of the chair.

“It’s like they forgot I existed.”

“They didn’t,” Amir said, calm. Cutting. “You did.”

I turned, finally. Met his eyes.

He shrugged. “You watching edits and reels and headlines like they’re scripture. That’s not God, Raj. That’s marketing.”

“But it’s working,” I muttered.

“So?” Amir stepped closer. “Let it work. Let her shine. But don’t forget—you built the sound.”

I didn’t speak. Couldn’t. Not with the lump rising in my throat, thick as a hook that hadn’t dropped yet.

Because it wasn’t about the credits. Or the press. It was about her.I loved her.