Intro to korina

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I was still rambling to Navira about how the label wanted me to do the tour. "It ain't even confirmed yet, but they talking like I gotta headline a whole set. Like, me-me! This some wild sh*t."

Navira blinked at me slowly, then cut her eyes toward Korina, who was across the room laughing at something D.O.C. said. Her smile thinned.

"So... let me guess. Korina's gonna be on tour too?" she asked, barely hiding the shade in her voice.

I raised an eyebrow. "Why does that even matter?"

Navira shrugged, sipping her drink like it was no big deal. "Just funny how she always right there when some spotlight gets thrown around. That's all."

"Girl, don't start." I chuckled but there was some tension in the air now. "You sound jealous."

"I ain't jealous," she snapped back. "I just see patterns."

Before I could respond, I felt a gentle but firm hand on my wrist. I turned and there he was-Eazy.

"Lemme talk to you," he said softly.

He led me outside to the back, where the noise faded into background music and cigarette smoke. The air was warm, but his presence made it hotter.

"What's up?" I asked, folding my arms.

Eazy stood in front of me, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning my face like he was searching for the right words.

"I just... wanted a minute with you," he said. "Away from all that other noise."

There was a pause. And then, like it was unspoken, we stepped a little closer. His hand brushed mine, and for a split second, I thought he was going to kiss me.

Our faces lingered inches apart. The air got heavy.

But then he pulled back, looked away, and exhaled. "Look, about the newspaper sh*t. The hate. Everything. I ain't mean for it to get this far."

I stayed quiet.

"I read what they wrote about you. That song you dropped?" He looked back at me. "It's good. It's real. They just hatin' 'cause you a woman, and they ain't used to that voice comin' from someone like you."

My chest tightened a little. "I ain't tryna be the next queen or anything. I just want people to listen."

"I know," he nodded. "So... what you gonna do?"

"I'm down to drop an EP. Nothing too crazy. Just something solid."

He smirked like he was proud but trying not to show it. "Alright then."

Then he scratched the back of his head like he was nervous. "Look... the guys, we gon' be gone for a couple weeks. Maybe a few months max. Business."

I blinked. "Wait-what?"

"I wanted to tell you earlier," he said. "But I didn't wanna mess with your vibe."

"Damn. You just gonna drop that and bounce?"

He stepped forward again and handed me something. It was a folded piece of paper with lyrics scribbled all over it in his handwriting. "This ain't no goodbye letter. It's just... something to hold onto while I'm gone."

I stared at it, silent. He gave me one last look before walking back in. I stayed outside, holding that paper like it weighed a thousand pounds.

My mind was loud now.

Back inside, Cube slammed his tray down at the table where Jerry and Eazy were mid-lunch.

"We need to talk," Cube said, voice low but intense.

Eazy wiped his mouth with a napkin, not looking fazed. "You always gotta dramatic entrance."

Cube leaned in. "What's up with these contracts, man? Something ain't right."

Jerry sighed, looking over the rim of his glasses. "Cube, we've gone over this."

"Nah. You went over it. I'm tryin' to understand it."

The room got quiet. Eazy glanced at Jerry, then back at Cube.

After a tense back-and-forth, Jerry finally waved it off. "Look, we'll have the lawyer walk you through every word if that's what you want."

Cube nodded slowly. "That's exactly what I want."

As Cube walked off, Jerry leaned toward Eazy with a half-smirk. "By the way... you can't be messin' with every broad on tour."

Eazy frowned. "What, p***y a problem now?"

"It's gonna be," Jerry said, matter-of-fact. "Especially if you keep dodging condoms like they allergic. You tryna have a football team of kids or what?"

Eazy shook his head, laughing a little. "You act like I'm out here reckless."

"You are," Jerry shot back. "What about Korina? You serious or is that just another tour fling?"

Eazy didn't answer. His eyes lingered on the doorway I'd just walked out of.

Jerry followed his gaze and raised an eyebrow. "Thought so."

The studio lights were low, casting that warm orange glow that made everything feel like 3AM, even if it was barely 5 in the evening. I was leaned back on the couch, tapping my pen against the side of my notepad while The D.O.C. played a beat he'd been working on.

That sh*t was nasty-in the best way. The bassline had that old-school snap, but the drums hit like something futuristic. It made my whole chest vibrate.

"This right here?" I said, nodding with a little smirk. "This the one. Play that hook again."

DOC chuckled. "I told you! I been sittin' on this one for weeks waitin' on somebody who could actually kill it."

"Well, guess what," I grinned, hopping up. "You found her."

We spent the next hour bouncing ideas. I was pacing, throwing out hooks, while he adjusted snares and replayed loops. It was easy. Effortless. We were vibin'. I cracked a joke about one of his old tracks, and he threw his head back laughing, damn near falling off the chair.

That's when the door opened.

Dre walked in first, holding a bottle of water, nodding at the beat like he approved. Eazy followed close behind.

And the vibe? Shifted immediately.

Eazy's eyes landed on me, then on DOC-then back on me. And just like that, his whole face changed.

I didn't even say anything yet, but I already knew what he was thinking.

"Y'all in here gettin' cozy, huh?" he muttered.

DOC blinked, caught off guard. "We workin', man. That's it."

Eazy didn't say anything back. Just gave him that tight smile that meant I don't believe you, but I'm not about to fight here. His whole energy turned cold. I tried to explain, but he barely looked at me.

"You know what?" he said after a long pause, voice low. "Do your thing."

And just like that, he walked out. Dre gave me a small nod before following him.

The air in the room dropped like ten degrees.

DOC sighed. "Damn. He really thought..."

I shook my head. "Nah, it's not even like that. We just-he just-ugh."

I sat back down, eyes on the floor. I didn't even realize how close we probably looked. The laughing. The leaning in. The way I smiled when I talked to DOC. I wasn't trying to play anyone, but from Eazy's angle... I could see how it twisted.

For the rest of the session, my heart wasn't in it. I stayed quiet, let DOC do his thing, but my pen was moving for a different reason now.

Later that night, in my room, I opened my notebook and wrote the opening line of a song that felt like my chest cracked open.

"I talk too soft and laugh too loud / and maybe that's why they misunderstand me..."

I wrote until my fingers hurt. About confusion. About feeling like a villain in someone else's story. About being the girl who never picked sides, but always ended up blamed.

By the time I finished, I didn't know if it was a diss, a ballad, or therapy.

But I knew it belonged on that EP.

Because now? Everything I felt was going into this music.

I tried again.

Caught Eazy out back, near the lot where they parked the blacked-out vans. He was lighting a blunt, hoodie half up, staring out at nothing.

"Eazy," I said gently.

He looked at me, eyes sharp but tired, like he was halfway between wanting to care and wanting to pretend none of this touched him.

"I ain't tryna argue," I added quickly, "I just... wanna talk."

He took a drag. Blew it out slow. "Ain't nothin' to talk about, K."

That stung more than I wanted to admit.

"But that session with DOC-"

"I saw the session," he cut in. "I saw you laughing, grinning, leaning close. I don't need no damn transcript."

My mouth opened, but the words didn't come. It didn't matter what I said-he'd already made up his mind. And truth be told... maybe I had been too casual. Maybe I did mess up.

I just nodded and stepped back, letting the silence speak for me this time.

Back in my room, everything felt louder. The quiet, the hum of the AC, the chaos in my head.

I sat on the edge of my bed for a minute, then got up and walked straight to the little setup I'd been building over time-mic, keyboard, , messy wires and all.

I didn't even think. I just opened a new file, let the beat play, and grabbed my pen.

The song poured out of me like water breaking through a dam. It was messy at first-emotions layered with regret, confusion, some guilt, but a lot of truth. The kind I usually ran from. The kind I needed to face.

Line by line, the story started forming.

"It's always me with the open hands,Getting smacked when I just wanted to understand..."

I looped the beat and recorded again. And again. Hours passed-two? Three? I didn't know. I didn't care. I got lost in it. Forgot the pain, forgot the rumors, forgot Eazy's look when he walked away.

All I could hear was the rhythm in my chest matching the one in the beat.

By the time I sat back, headphones half-on, my voice scratchy, the screen showed a messy but finished track.

And for once... I didn't feel like a maybe.

I felt like I knew.

I loved this. Not for the money. Not to prove anything. Not even for the boys that made me feel like I had to fight for a seat at the table.

This was mine.

I took a deep breath, wiped a tear I didn't even know had fallen, and whispered to the silence, "Yeah... I'm really doing this."

For real this time.