Reality

And just like that, we were strangers again.

I sat away from everyone on the plane, pressing my forehead against the cool window and watching the clouds blur past. The low hum of the engine was the only sound I could stand.

Freddie tried to talk to me once, leaning over the aisle, voice soft with concern.

"Lena—"

I shook my head.

That was all I could give. No words, just silence.

I nodded when necessary, moved when expected, but I was somewhere else entirely.

By the time we landed in Tokyo, I was already gone.

—

The hotel was grand, polished, suffocating. The moment we checked in, I slipped away from the group, ignoring Tara's questioning look and Freddie's worried eyes.

I stripped out of my travel clothes, threw on something sleek, and left my hair wild. I hadn't needed a drink in a long time. I needed one now.

The bar I found was dimly lit, tucked away down a neon-soaked alley. Jazz hummed low through the speakers, mixing with the occasional burst of laughter from the patrons. A long, mahogany bar stretched across the room, bottles glimmering like jewels under the warm lights.

I slid onto a stool, ordered a whiskey neat, and took my first sip in weeks.

The burn was welcome.

I let myself breathe, let the unfamiliar conversations around me drown out the thoughts clawing at my skull. I just wanted to disappear into the night, melt into someone else's story, even if only for a few hours.

Then, she sat next to me.

Blonde hair. Hazel eyes. A teasing smile.

It was cruel, really.

She looked like her.

Not exactly, but enough to make something sharp twist inside me.

She caught my glance, tilting her head. "You here alone?"

I let out a breath of a laugh. "Yeah. You?"

She shrugged, taking a slow sip of her drink. "Supposed to be meeting some coworkers, but I think I might ditch them."

I raised an eyebrow. "Not a fan?"

"Oh no, they're great. Just exhausting."

I huffed out a chuckle. "I get that."

She extended a hand. "Elena."

The irony wasn't lost on me.

I took her hand, fingers wrapping around hers for a brief moment. "Lena."

Her lips quirked. "Fitting."

I smirked and took another sip of my drink. "So, Elena, what brings you to Tokyo?"

She leaned on the bar, her eyes flicking toward the shelves of liquor before meeting mine again. "I work in fashion. Textile design, mostly. Here for meetings."

I nodded, impressed. "That's cool. You live in New York?"

She grinned. "Yeah. Brooklyn. You?"

The question caught me off guard.

For a second, I hesitated, my brain wired to respond with wherever the hell I'm touring.

But instead, I found myself saying, "Yeah. When I'm not traveling, I live in the city."

Her eyes lit up. "No shit. What part?"

"Lower East Side."

"Good bars over there."

I smirked. "Yeah, when I actually have time to go to them."

She tilted her head, studying me. "What do you do?"

It was always tricky, answering that. I never wanted to be the person who just threw I dance for a global pop star into casual conversation. But Elena had this ease about her, something that made me feel like I didn't have to filter myself.

"I'm a dancer," I said, swirling the amber liquid in my glass.

Her brows lifted. "Like, for real?"

I nodded. "Yeah. On tour right now."

She let out a low whistle. "Damn. And here I was thinking I had a cool job."

I laughed, really laughed for the first time in what felt like forever. It caught me off guard.

"Trust me, it's not always glamorous," I said.

She grinned. "I don't know. World travel, performing every night, working with—what, some famous singer?"

I exhaled through my nose. "Something like that."

She gave me a look, sensing there was more to the story. But she didn't press.

Instead, she clinked her glass against mine. "Well, whatever it is, I bet it's worth it."

I wasn't sure if it was.

But right now, sitting in this bar, talking to this girl who didn't know me, who didn't expect anything from me, it felt like maybe something was.

My phone buzzed against the bar.

Freddie: We're all meeting for dinner. You coming?

I stared at the message, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

I hadn't planned on it. I didn't think I could stomach sitting at the same table as her.

But then an idea slid into place.

I turned to Elena, tilting my head. "Want to grab dinner with some friends?"

She smiled. "I'd love to."

—

The restaurant was small, the kind of place that was cozy without trying too hard, where the air smelled like sizzling meat and soy sauce, and the low hum of conversation mixed with the occasional clang of a wok.

The moment I stepped inside with Elena, I felt it.

Her gaze.

Even before I looked, I felt her.

At the table, Tara and Freddie were deep in conversation, their laughter breaking through the ambient noise. The other dancers chatted between bites of food, chopsticks moving swiftly over shared plates.

And then there was her.

And him.

Taylor sat with his arm draped lazily over Stefani's shoulder, fingers tracing faint circles against the fabric of her sleeve. She wasn't leaning into him, but she wasn't pulling away either.

Something in me twisted.

Her eyes lifted as I approached, flickering with something I couldn't place—surprise, recognition, something deeper. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came.

I turned away first.

Tara let out an exaggerated gasp. "Oh my god, you brought a friend!"

Freddie beamed, eyes bright. "Hi! I'm Freddie—welcome!"

I could always count on them for enthusiasm.

Elena laughed, the sound easy and warm. She was good at this. Good at pretending she didn't notice the shift in the air.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Elena."

Freddie gestured to the open seats. "Sit, sit! We ordered a bunch of stuff. Have you had real izakaya before?"

I exhaled slowly, letting myself be pulled into the moment. "A few times, but I wouldn't call myself an expert."

Elena slid in next to me, close enough that her knee pressed against mine beneath the table. Her hand rested lightly on my thigh, just a casual touch, something grounding. I let it stay.

And then—

"Lena."

I knew his voice before I even turned.

Taylor.

His tone was polite, even warm, like I was just some casual acquaintance, like I wasn't sitting there with a girl who had blonde hair and hazel eyes, a girl who wasn't her.

"Taylor," I said flatly.

Stefani was silent.

I could feel the tension rolling off her in waves, but she didn't speak. She just watched.

Taylor lifted his glass. "Good to see you again."

I forced a thin smile. "Likewise."

Elena's fingers curled slightly against my thigh, just for a second, like she could sense the static in the air. She turned to Taylor with a polite smile. "So, how do you all know each other?"

Before I could open my mouth, Tara jumped in. "Lena and Stefani have been dancing together for years—practically glued at the hip!"

My stomach clenched.

Stefani finally spoke, her voice softer than I expected. "Yeah. We go way back."

Elena raised an eyebrow, glancing between us with mild interest. "Oh? That's cool."

I took a sip of my drink, letting the alcohol settle low in my stomach.

Elena turned back to me. "So, you live in New York when you're not touring?"

I nodded, grateful for the shift in conversation. "Yeah. Lower East Side."

Her lips quirked. "Figures. You seem like an LES girl."

I smirked. "What does that even mean?"

She shrugged, taking a sip of her own drink. "A little rough around the edges. A little intense. Like you might disappear into a dive bar and never be seen again."

Freddie snorted. "That's actually so accurate."

Tara nodded dramatically. "I can so picture Lena chain-smoking outside some hole-in-the-wall jazz club at 3 AM, just brooding."

I rolled my eyes. "You guys are so dramatic."

Elena laughed. "No, but really—you like it there?"

I hesitated, twirling the stem of my glass between my fingers. "Yeah. It's home. Or, as close to home as anything feels these days."

Her expression softened. "I get that."

I glanced at her. "You said you're in Brooklyn?"

She nodded. "Yep. Williamsburg, for now. But I'm never home as much as I want to be."

I hummed in understanding. "Work?"

She sighed, stretching her arms over her head before leaning back. "Yeah. I work in fashion—textile design, mostly. Lots of meetings, lots of travel."

I raised an eyebrow. "That sounds..."

She smirked. "Miserable?"

I chuckled. "I was gonna say busy."

She laughed. "It's both."

The conversation felt easy, the kind that filled the space naturally, without effort.

And yet—

I could still feel her.

Stefani hadn't said a word since her initial response, but I could sense her watching. The weight of her stare was heavy against my skin.

I glanced over, just for a second.

Our eyes met.

Something flickered there—something dark, something unreadable.

Then, before I could even process it, Taylor leaned over, brushing his lips against her temple.

My chest burned.

I turned away, back to Elena, and smiled like none of it mattered