When I Stopped Singing for Her

For three years, I sang love songs for Lena Mitchell. More precisely, I sang them in place of her on-screen boyfriend, Liam Parker. Fans believed Liam had a naturally pure voice that could make every lyric sound like a heartfelt confession of love. Only I knew that the vocals behind those songs were mine, recorded over countless late nights until my voice grew hoarse. On the night of her anniversary concert, Lena promised I'd finally have my chance to step into the spotlight. I'd already changed into my suit, and the in-ear monitors waiting for me backstage even bore my name. But just before the show began, she grabbed my wrist. "Julian, let Liam take the stage tonight. His public image can't afford a hit. It's safer for you to stay behind the scenes." Under the stage lights, Liam glanced at me. "Lena made the decision. I only found out at the last minute, too." Later, they stood hand in hand as thousands of fans sang along. Lena turned to the cameras and said, "Thank you, Liam, for standing by my side all these years, from when we were complete unknowns to where we are today." Thunderous applause filled the venue. I sat behind the sound console, my own breathing still echoing through my in-ear monitors. So all three years of singing about love had come down to one word: safe. I quietly removed the in-ear monitors and placed them back in their case, my name engraved on them. This time, I never put them on again. Chapter 1 After the concert ended, the backstage area was even noisier than the stage had been. Champagne corks popped right beside my ears. "We broke the record! The livestream just hit a new peak!" "Lena and Liam made history tonight!" I stood beside the sound console, still dressed in my silver-gray suit. The screen replayed footage from the concert. Under the spotlight, Liam held Lena's hand as he sang along to the backing vocals I had stayed up until 4:00 a.m. to record just three days earlier. Fans wept in the audience. Comments flooded the screen. [Liam's voice is so pure.] [The second he opens his mouth, I want to fall in love.] [Lena really found the perfect voice.] I lowered my head and glanced at the pass around my neck. It read: [Sound Engineering Team, Julian Payne] A staff member hurried past, brushing against the hem of my jacket. "Sorry, man." He hadn't even noticed how sharply I was dressed. When Lena stepped offstage, a crowd immediately gathered around her. She caught sight of me and paused. "Julian." I looked up. She held out the water bottle in her hand. "The backing track was solid." That was all. No "Thanks for all your hard work." Nothing else. I took the bottle. It was cold to the touch. The matching bracelet Liam had slipped onto her wrist onstage was still there. I stared at it for two seconds. Lena followed my gaze, and her fingers curled slightly. "He added that on the spot. The fans like seeing things like that." I nodded. She seemed relieved, though she still looked as if she had something to say. Her manager, Danson Moore, called from across the room, "Lena! The brand representatives are waiting for photos!" Before she turned away, she glanced at me. "Go home early." Then she left. Liam approached with a bouquet of flowers. The first thing he did was reach for my hand. "Julian, we couldn't have done it without you tonight." Several staff members nearby smiled. Someone chimed in, "Liam really knows how to show his appreciation. He even remembered to thank the man behind the scenes." Liam's smile grew more relaxed. "If Julian hadn't helped me with my breathing on those high notes, my voice would've cracked for sure." He leaned closer to my ear and lowered his voice. "Bro, I feel terrible about this." I glanced at the pin on his collar. "It's nothing." Liam blinked. "Lena was the one who made the decision. I had no choice but to go along with it." I gave him a faint smile. He immediately released my hand and hurried toward the fan support group. "Liam! Over here!" He raised the bouquet and smiled for the cameras. … At the celebration party, Danson raised his glass. "Everyone worked hard tonight, especially Lena and Liam." Applause filled the room. I sat at the far end of the long table. Trending topics scrolled across the screen. [Lena and Liam's duet.] [Liam's angelic voice.] [Lena thanks Liam.] Ethan Neeson, one of the sound engineers, nudged me. "Julian, are you recording the backing vocals for the new song next week too?" I was about to answer when Danson cut in, "Let Julian handle the backing vocals. He's the most reliable." The most reliable… He said those three words so casually. They felt like a cheap stamp slapped onto three years of late nights that stretched until dawn, strained vocal cords, stomachaches, and takeout meals gone cold. Lena sat at the head of the table. She had heard him. Her hand paused briefly around her glass, but she didn't look at me. … After everyone left, I returned to my workstation to pack up. My in-ear monitor case was inside the drawer. I opened it. The black earpieces rested inside, my name engraved along their sides. The engraving had worn almost smooth. Three years ago, Lena had pressed the case into my hand. "Once we make it big, you'll wear these onstage, and everyone will know your name." I traced the faded engraving with my fingertip. The earpieces were cold to the touch. Someone called from outside, "Julian, you heading out?" I closed the case. "You guys go ahead." "Aren't you taking your in-ears?" I glanced at the case. "I'll leave them here." He paused in surprise. "You used to carry them everywhere." I pushed the drawer shut. "I'm tired tonight." … By the time I got home, it was already late. I turned on my computer. An email from two weeks earlier was still sitting in my inbox. It was from a producer at an independent record label in Norvale. [There's something about your voice that makes people stop and listen. We'd like to invite you to record an album of your own.] I stared at those words for a long time. The cursor blinked. Finally, I typed: [I will think about it.] After I sent those five words, the screen dimmed. In the corner of my desktop sat an encrypted, password-protected folder. Its name was a date from exactly one year ago. Chapter 2 The day the new album dropped, I was the first to open the streaming platform. Liam was credited as both lyricist and composer on all three songs. I stared at his name. My eyes didn't sting, and my fingers didn't tremble. I took a screenshot and saved it to a folder. That made seventeen. Ethan poked his head through the doorway. "Julian, have you seen the new album?" I closed the page. "Yeah." "Everyone's praising Liam for his songwriting." His voice dropped. "Don't let it get to you." I opened the project file. "Let's get back in the booth. We've still got another track to record today," Ethan said. … By the third take, my throat had started to feel raw. I took off my headphones and reached for my water bottle. Someone had left a bottle of warm water on the table. Three words were written on it: [Don't stay up.] I recognized Lena's handwriting. Ethan noticed the bottle and gave me a knowing smile. "Lena left you water again?" I pushed it aside. "Let's record." He scratched his head. "Oh." As I slipped my headphones back on, a memory of the recording studio three years ago suddenly resurfaced. Back then, Lena hadn't made it big yet. During the recording of her first solo single, she'd stood before the microphone and sung the opening line more than 20 times without getting it right. She looked at me through the glass, panic written all over her face. I pressed the talkback button. "Lena, stop thinking about singing." She froze. "Just pretend you're talking to me," I said. She nailed it on the very next take. Afterward, she rushed out of the booth and pressed her in-ear monitors into my palm. "These are yours from now on." She was breathless, her eyes shining. "Julian, you're my voice." … That afternoon, the team held a meeting. Danson had filled an entire page with Liam's interview schedule. "The music magazine wants to ask about your creative process tomorrow. Liam, don't improvise." Liam nodded. "I know what I can and can't say." Danson turned to me. "Julian, help him get his story straight." I lowered my head and took notes. "Sure." Liam reached across the table and brushed his fingers against my wrist. "I'm always making you go out of your way for me." I withdrew my hand beneath the table. His smile never wavered. "You know my songs better than anyone." He said it so naturally, as though those songs had truly come from him. After the meeting, Lena was the last to leave. She handed me a folder. "Liam gets nervous during interviews. Keep an eye on him." I looked at her. "He's going to talk about songwriting. It's just a division of responsibilities." Her tone was indifferent. "The company will handle the credits." "What about mine?" I asked. Lena glanced at me. "Don't make a simple matter complicated." I nodded. "Understood." A year ago, I'd heard something similar. - One night, a music critic pointed out striking similarities between the chorus of Liam's new single and an anonymous demo. I'd recorded that demo late one night and uploaded it to a tiny platform, where it had received barely 20 plays. Lena showed up at my door with a grim expression and got straight to the point. "Julian, help me deal with this." I looked at her. "That's my song." She paused for two seconds. "I know." After another pause, she continued, "Tour tickets stop selling today. If this gets confirmed, all the contracts could fall apart." "What about me?" I asked. She avoided my eyes. "Put out a statement saying the melody was licensed for internal use." I did as she asked. By the next day, the controversy had died down. Liam posted a photo of us together. The caption read: [Thanks, Julian. We're family. No need to stand on ceremony.] - That evening, after we wrapped up recording, a notification appeared in the work group chat. It was an announcement about next month's brand music gala. Lena would perform a treasured love song that had never been released, and Liam would be her duet partner. I stared at the announcement, muttering, "A treasured love song that had never been released." Lena had only one song that fit that deion: Lost in the Fog. It was the first song I'd ever written for her. Back then, after hearing it for the first time, she'd pressed the handwritten lyrics against her chest. "Don't give this song to anyone else. Save it for us." … When I got home, I dug out that old notebook. Lost in the Fog was on the very first page. Beside the title was a little musical note Lena had absentmindedly doodled. I opened my email. The message from the record label in Norvale was still there. The reply box remained empty. I stared at it for a long time before closing it again. … At 2:00 a.m., I heard a car pull up downstairs. Through a gap in the curtains, I spotted Lena's black car. A few minutes later, I heard a faint sound outside my door. I waited a long time before finally opening it. A cup of warm soup sat on the floor, still warm to the touch. I brought it inside and set it on the table. Slowly, the steam faded away. My phone lit up beside it. Lena had sent me a message. Lean: [Drink it.] I didn't reply. Chapter 3 At the gala planning meeting, I was assigned a seat in the farthest corner of the room. Danson projected the setlist onto the screen. [Lost in the Fog. Written by Liam Parker. Performed by Lena Mitchell and Liam Parker.] My knuckles pressed against the edge of my chair. Danson began. "The brand wants to present this as a testament to Lena and Liam's three-year love story." Vincent Foster nodded. "The story behind their signature love song makes for a compelling narrative." Liam chuckled softly. "I'm not sure I can pull off my part." Lena glanced at him. "We have Julian." Everyone turned toward me. Danson fixed his gaze on me. "Julian, you'll be responsible for the entire backing vocal arrangement." My throat tightened. "This song…" The conference room fell silent for a brief moment. Lena looked up. "What about it?" I stared at the songwriting credits on the screen. "Nothing." … After the meeting, I stopped Lena in the hallway. "Can't we use a different song instead of Lost in the Fog?" She stopped in her tracks. "Why?" "You said you'd save that song for us," I replied. Lena looked at me, her expression unchanged. "It's just a song." Her unwavering gaze seemed to weigh on my shoulders. "Who I sing with onstage doesn't mean anything," she claimed. "Then what does?" I asked. She didn't answer. After two seconds, she looked away. "The contract's already signed. You're working behind the scenes, and no one's giving you a hard time." This was the third time it had happened. She had shut me out again without raising her voice, yet the pain cut straight to the bone. … That evening, Liam shared a photo on his social media account for the entire team to see. It was a selfie of him with a pair of black in-ear monitors. I recognized them instantly. The name Julian Payne had once been engraved on the right earpiece. Now, only Liam remained. The caption read: [Lena told me these were the original in-ear monitors from the early days. She had my name engraved on them and gave them to me. After three years, I finally have my own name in her music.] I zoomed in on the photo. Faint abrasion marks were visible beneath the engraving. My name had been ground away. When my phone screen went dark, my reflection stared back at me, pale and almost sickly green. … The next day, Liam had a one-on-one interview. The topic was "From Behind the Scenes to the Spotlight: Liam Parker's Creative Journey." I handed him the interview materials. He flipped through two pages before suddenly looking up. "Julian, thank goodness you helped us back then." My hand froze. "Otherwise, Lena and I would've been finished." His tone remained calm. I looked at him. There were no tears in his eyes. He merely gave me a solemn nod. "You're the person I trust most." He glanced back at the materials. "Page three of the interview brief has the timeline for the songwriting process." He smiled and patted my shoulder. "I'll definitely do Lost in the Fog justice this time." Then he lowered his voice. "I won't let your work go to waste." The word "waste" rolled off his tongue so casually. I turned away slightly. "Recording starts in 10 minutes." … On the day of the rehearsal, I sat behind the monitoring console. With my old in-ear monitors in place, Liam sang the chorus of Lost in the Fog. Halfway through a sustained note, his breath faltered. Vincent frowned. Lena's voice came through the intercom. "Give the third line more breath support." Liam sighed softly into the microphone. "I've tried, but this key is just too difficult for me." Lena paused for a moment. "Do it the way you did before. A little lower, a little steadier." She didn't explicitly say, "Sing like Julian," but I knew exactly what she wanted. She wanted him to imitate my singing style. I closed my eyes. Everything from my song and my voice to my in-ear monitors and even my public statement had found its way onto that stage, yet Liam received all the credit. … After rehearsal, I passed the dressing room. The door was ajar, and Liam was on the phone. "Yeah, after the gala, this song goes straight onto my list of works." He chuckled. "The authorization's already signed. He signed it himself last year." He paused briefly. "It's all there in black and white. No one can dispute it. Julian won't say anything." The person on the other end said something. Liam's voice remained perfectly even. "Why blame him? I owe him one. I'll make it up to him eventually." I stood outside the door, the strap of my equipment bag digging into my palm. Someone inside called out, "Liam, come get your makeup touched up." I turned and walked away. … Late that night, I returned to my workstation. The recording studio was completely empty. I opened the encrypted folder. Inside were all the original recordings. The timestamp on the original demo of Lost in the Fog predated every single one of Liam's works. I opened my email and deleted the words [I'll think about it] from my previous reply. Then I typed a new message: [Could you tell me how long the recording period would last? I need to confirm my departure date.] I clicked Send. A confirmation appeared on the screen. I pulled open the drawer and took out the empty in-ear monitor case. It felt light in my hand. I slipped it into my bag. The light above my workstation flickered once. Inside the drawer, an empty, dark square remained. Chapter 4 Three days before the gala, I sought Lena out in the studio. "I want to revoke the authorization statement." Her hand froze halfway toward a document. "Julian." I stood before her. "You can't keep giving Liam credit for Lost in the Fog." She looked up at me, her expression calm, as though this were nothing more than a minor deviation from her plans. "Don't start. That statement was supposed to save the tour." Lena set down her pen. "You signed it yourself." My breath caught. "If you bring this up now, no one will be able to clean up the mess." Her voice remained perfectly even. Everyone involved would suffer. That was what her tone implied. I'd become an accomplice, and somehow, telling the truth would make me the one responsible for hurting everyone else. Lena rose and walked past me. "Julian, if you leave, you won't have much of a track record to fall back on in this industry." She picked up her coat. "I don't want things to turn ugly between us." She spoke as casually as if she were discussing the weather. I watched her walk out the door. So she'd known all along. She knew that statement had trapped me. She knew I wouldn't get far if I left. … On the day of the gala, Liam emerged backstage in a custom-made performance suit and stopped in front of the sound console. "Julian, you'll keep an eye on my in-ear monitors tonight, right?" He tilted his head to show off the earpiece engraved with his name. "I feel at ease when you're around." I glanced at the worn patch of skin beside his ear. "Sure." … Fifteen minutes before the show, Lena approached the console. She glanced at the monitoring screen and reached out to adjust a setting. I looked up. "Raise your backing vocals another two decibels during the second chorus," she instructed. "Can't he handle it himself?" I asked. Her fingers paused. "We can't afford any mistakes onstage." I stared at her hand. "So you're using my voice to cover for him." Lena fell silent. As she withdrew her hand from the slider, her fingers brushed mine. She hesitated, and the back of her hand tensed. A moment later, she turned and walked away. The stage lights dimmed. Lena stood at center stage, her voice echoing through my monitoring system. "The next song is one I've never performed publicly before." The audience erupted into screams. "I wrote it for one person, but tonight, I'm singing it for everyone." The spotlight came on. Liam emerged from the wings and took his place beside her. The instant the first note rang out, my fingertips went cold. It was the melody I'd composed three years ago, back when I sat in my rented apartment with my guitar in my arms. That night, Lena had sat on the floor and listened in silence for a long time. "Julian, this is the best thing you've ever given me," she had claimed. And now, she was sharing that precious gift with Liam before tens of thousands of people. The chorus began. Sure enough, Liam's sustained note wavered. My backing vocal track automatically rose in the mix. Through the speakers, my voice intertwined with Lena's. Comments flooded the screen. [Liam's backing vocals are incredible!] [They're made for each other!] [This has to be Lena and Liam's love song!] I sat behind the sound console, my eyes dry. … When the song ended, Lena took Liam's hand and led him to the front of the stage. Then she pulled a small box from her pocket. The audience screamed so loudly that the noise nearly blew out my headphones. "This song was where our love story began," she said. "Liam, thank you for staying with me from the very first note until today." She opened the box to reveal a pair of musical note cufflinks. A single word was engraved on them: Fog. The same word from the title of my song, Lost in the Fog. Liam's eyes reddened, and he turned his face away. Lena fastened the cufflinks for him as thunderous applause swept through the venue. I filtered out the unnecessary noise from the monitoring feed, but the cheers still rang in my ears. … After the gala ended, backstage grew lively again. I switched off the sliders one by one. At some point, Lena appeared beside me. "Julian." I didn't look up. She placed a small box on the sound console. "This is for you." I opened it. Inside lay another pair of matching musical note cufflinks, but their surfaces were blank, without a single character engraved on them. Lena lowered her voice. "I haven't decided what to engrave on yours yet. I'll have it done later." I stared at the blank musical notes. Liam's cufflinks bore the name of my song, a gift she'd presented to him before tens of thousands of witnesses. Yet when it came to mine, she couldn't even spare a single word without postponing it until some unspecified day. I pushed the box back toward her. "Keep them." Lena's fingers stiffened. I removed my headphones and placed them on the sound console. Then I unclipped my staff badge and set it beside them. "Lena, today is my last day." Her expression shifted slightly. "Julian, think this through." I took a step back. "You've told me three times that I'm safer behind the scenes." Backstage was deafening, but my voice remained quiet. "I'm done staying behind the scenes." I turned and headed for the exit. Lena rushed forward and seized my arm, her grip painfully tight. "Where are you going?" She pulled so hard that I stumbled, and the back of my hand struck the metal edge of the sound console. Pain shot through my hand. A thin line of blood immediately appeared. The in-ear monitor case slipped out of my bag and hit the floor. Its lid sprang open. It was empty. Lena froze. Her grip loosened, and her hand fell away from my arm, her fingertips trembling. I bent down and picked up my bag. I didn't look at her. Behind me, the melody of "Lost in the Fog" continued to play on a loop. The backstage door closed behind me.