“It’s an old picture,” I tell Amelia. Those words must have gone into one ear and out the other, because she swipes on the newest picture on Calum’s Instaagram. She holds it to my face like it will make a difference. I roll my eyes and pick up my phone. My heart clenches a little as I open the folder containing our shared pictures. “Look,” I say, holding up my phone to show her this same picture. He’s in a plaid shirt with the buttons undone to reveal his chest. Amelia folds her legs and frowns. “It is an old picture. Well, not so old but yeah.” He sent them when I was preparing for the formal dance. It feels like days have passed since that happened but it’s not up to a month. I missed my graduation. I missed out on my two best friends leaving town. I mimic Amelia’s position on the bed and place a pillow between us. She tosses it to the side and draws close until our knees touch

“I don't love you anymore, Calum.” Calum’s shoulders slump and his arms drop to his sides. I hate to be the bearer of bad news but it is what it is. He needs to move on. “Since when?” he asks. His eyes are hopeful like Mace’s when he sees his feeding bottle. Since now. Since yesterday. Since he broke my heart. “Since when does it matter?” I say instead. * * * Months have passed without a word from Calum. Cathy is done with that phase of her life. But when she’s getting ready to move on, the man who broke her heart shows up. He has no idea what she’s talking about, but he knows he wants another chance with her. A chance at a new life where he gets to fulfil all the promises he made to her. But Cathy is done. Will Calum be able to change her mind, or has this ship permanently sailed? * * * * * Updates will resume: 24/10/2022 I saw a comment from a reader saying she’s tired of the one chapter/week update, and I’m assuming it’s a mistake. I

CALUM I slam the door to the dressing room close. Mum walks in seconds after, an apology already on the tip of her lips. Where’s the idiot, Scott? That fool, Jerry, was only supposed to ask the questions on the list.We were supposed to announce the date of our new tour. But the prick kept coming at me like we had unsettled beef. I run a hand through my hair and my fingers brush the mass of ink almost stretching to the nape of my neck. He was right about a scar but how did he know? No one outside the band should know.My chest sags as I drop into the stool in front of the mirror and stare at the man the people love. I press two fingers under my eyes, then lower them to stretch my lips into a fake smile. I’ve done it long enough for the fans to think my smiles and laughter are real.I’m not as happy or content as someone who has had nothing but back to back success in a short term should be. Something is not right and I don’t kn

My eyes hurt from staring at my laptop, but I can’t look away from the graphs and charts on the screen. I’m trying to understand where we might have gone wrong to lose our biggest support. The dip in the month of December affected the ads, which in turn negatively impacted our revenue. Still, I can’t wrap my head around the fact Thomas backed out. I tap on a random key to keep the laptop’s screen alive. The other half of my screen contains a list of potential investors that might be interested in taking Thomas’s place. If that doesn’t work, we might be forced to take a short-term loan.Tears prick my eyes, and I force them back to their confines. Things were just starting to look up for us. Girls Code crossed fifty thousand downloads in five months. I place a hand on my belly, seeking comfort from Mace while I type away. In the silence of the house, the click clack of my keyboard echoes through the dining room. Ame

CALUMI shaved, not because Mum asked. But because Yani touched my beards. No matter how much I brush my mouth, I still feel the imprint of her lips on mine. What was I thinking when I said yes to Mum?  I don’t need a girlfriend. I don't care what the media says about my sexuality.  They want music, and I’m giving them music. That is that. Or so I want to think but I can’t ignore the buzz generated since those pictures were uploaded. I didn’t even have to do it myself. The handler posted them after selecting the best five. I browse through the comment sections on my Instaagram page from my other account.  Some of the comments are mean, some are neutral, and some wish me well. But one thing is common with all the comments, they believe the pictures. I close my eyes and my head falls back. Around me, footsteps echo in the corridor, with the faint smell of antiseptic acting as a constant reminder of my location and unresolved issues.