"One call"

The rain didn't fall, but the sky hung heavy, like it might.

Inside her dim living room, Korina lay curled up on the couch in an old sweatshirt and silk bonnet, the fabric soaked slightly from tears earlier that morning. The air smelled like a mixture of eucalyptus and something burning faintly - she'd forgotten to blow out the incense.

Her house, once loud with music, laughter, and phone calls from stylists, photographers, and producers, had gone quiet. The only sounds now were Kimberly's little feet padding across the hallway and Kory's occasional coo from his crib.

Everything felt still. Too still.

She wanted peace - but not this kind of peace. This was lonely. This was hollow.

She wasn't taking visitors. Not even Ralph.Not after the last argument.Not after the silence.Not after Eric filed to take partial custody and then made it public like she was some washed-up baby mama begging for attention.

Her name was everywhere.

"Korina's fall from grace.""Former chart-topper in custody battle with Eazy-E.""Is she mentally fit to raise a child?"

The headlines made her sick.The same people who screamed her lyrics two years ago were now picking her apart like vultures.

Her phone buzzed, again and again. Messages from friends she used to ride for. A couple managers. Ralph. Her cousin. Her lawyer.

And then, one more call.

Unknown Number.She let it ring.And ring.And then something said, pick up.

"...Hello?" Her voice came out gritty, half-there.

"Peace," a calm, unmistakable voice said. "Korina?"

"...Who's this?"

"It's Nas."

She sat up, her eyes narrowing."Nas?"

"Yeah," he said again, chuckling lightly. "From Queensbridge. I saw you at that industry party couple weeks ago. You ain't even look at me twice, but that red coat? That shit had presence."

She remembered. That night felt like a blur - cameras flashing, her smile forced, her energy dead.

"...Okay," she said slowly. "So what do you want?"

He didn't jump into it. He let the silence breathe for a second.

"I been listening to your new album," Nas said. "It's different. It's raw. Like you pulled it straight out your ribs and dropped it on wax."

Her guard stayed up. Compliments didn't mean anything anymore. Not when they came with strings.

"You tryna flatter me or book me?"

"I'm tryin' to connect, Korina," he said, a little firmer now. "On some real artist-to-artist shit. I'm workin' on my debut, and there's a track... it needs your voice. Not just your singing. Your pain."

She sighed. "You got pain, Nas?"

"Enough to fill notebooks. But I ain't tryna compete. I just respect yours."

That line hit her. Not because it was perfect, but because it wasn't. It was real.

She leaned her head back and looked at the ceiling. Kimberly was quiet. Kory, for once, wasn't crying. The world, for a fleeting moment, paused.

"...I'm not really working right now," she admitted.

"I get it," he said. "But sometimes the work is what keeps you breathing."

Silence. Long, heavy silence.

Finally, Korina rubbed her temple and asked, "Where?"

"We can meet somewhere chill. Neutral. No labels. No cameras. You name it."

"...You ever been to Cafe Blue in Echo Park?"

"Not yet. But if you say it's the spot, I'll be there."

Another pause.

"I'll text you the time," she said quietly. "Don't bring no press. Don't bring no entourage."

"You got my word."

Click.

She hung up, phone still in hand. And slowly - almost reluctantly - she felt it again.

A spark.Tiny. Flickering.But enough.

She didn't know if it was hope, or desperation disguised as something softer...But it was something.

And that was more than she'd had in weeks.

After the call with Nas ended, Korina just sat there.

Phone still in hand, screen dark. The silence that followed wasn't heavy this time - it was almost peaceful. For the first time in what felt like months, her heart wasn't pounding, her head wasn't spinning, and she didn't feel like screaming into her pillow.

But it wasn't relief either. It was something else.

Resolve.

The kind of quiet strength that grows from being completely tired. Tired of crying. Tired of breaking down every time someone called her name like it belonged to them. Tired of being judged, pulled in courtrooms, ripped apart in headlines, or treated like some washed-up problem with too much attitude and too many kids.

She wasn't a damn scandal.She was a woman.A mother.An artist.A human being.

And maybe, for the first time, she realized she didn't owe anyone anything. Not her story, not her pain, not her apologies. Not even her attention.

The lawyers could come at any moment - she knew that.Eric had filed papers.Partial custody.She'd seen it in bold letters across her kitchen counter.

But right now?Right now she wasn't bracing for battle.

She was making space to heal.

No more tears.No more screaming matches.No more crying herself to sleep after putting Kory down and telling Kimberly "Mama's okay," when she wasn't.

She poured herself a glass of water. Opened the back door. Let the California breeze hit her face and move through her hair. And she closed her eyes.

She wasn't numb.She wasn't fixed.But she was ready - ready to do the only thing that ever brought her back to herself.

Music.

Not for the charts.Not for the label.Not even for her fans.

For her.

Because even if the world never got to hear it... she needed to say it. Sing it. Bleed it. Be it.

She grabbed a notebook and a pen.Sat on her bedroom floor.And just... began.

The pages didn't ask questions.They didn't judge her choices.They let her be angry. Soft. Petty. Divine.They let her be Korina again.

A woman who had been bruised but still breathed.A woman who had loved wrong but loved hard.A woman who wanted peace more than revenge.

And for now... that was enough.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-☆°☆_-_-_-_--_-_-_-_-_--_-_-_-

Y'all sorry for the short chapter ,I'm still busy with other things now but ill try to update and finish this story maybe before this day ends.

Anywayysssssss