Silenced Strings

The drive back to Chloe’s tiny apartment was suffocatingly silent.

Leo pulled his sleek car to a halt outside her building. The Los Angeles rain had returned, slicking the streets in a depressing, gray wash.

Chloe stared out the window, her heart shattered into a million irreparable pieces. They had done it again. The industry had looked at her authentic soul, deemed it 'too cultural' for the masses, and bought it to be repackaged for someone safe. She had been foolish to think it could be any different. She had been foolish to take a chance.

"Chloe," Leo said, his voice thick with raw frustration and heartbreak. He reached across the console, grasping her hand. "Don't sign the NDA. I will fight them. I'll take this to the press. I'll breach my contract if I have to."

"And then what?" Chloe whispered, a single tear slipping down her cheek. She pulled her hand away from his warmth, the loss making her chest ache. "They'll blacklist you, Leo. They'll ruin your career. You're a Grammy-winning producer. You can't throw that away for a girl playing a zither."

"You are not just a girl playing a zither," Leo pleaded, his dark eyes wide with desperate sincerity. "You are the most brilliant artist I have ever worked with. And I... Chloe, I love you. I love your music, and I love you. I won't let them erase you."

The confession hung in the air, beautiful and tragic. Chloe closed her eyes, fresh tears spilling over her lashes. She loved him, too. The last three weeks had been the greatest of her life. But she couldn't let him destroy himself to fight an unbeatable corporate machine.

"I'm sorry, Leo," Chloe choked out. "They were right. My music is too niche. I was stupid to think I could be a solo artist."

"Chloe, don't say that—"

"I'm done," Chloe said, grabbing the door handle, her voice trembling but final. "I'm going to sign the NDA. I'll take the money and pay off my debts. I'm packing up the guzheng. I'm quitting music."

She stepped out into the freezing rain, grabbed her heavy case from the backseat, and ran up the stairs to her apartment, ignoring Leo shouting her name from the street below.

She locked the door, slid down the wood, and wept until she had nothing left.

For two days, Chloe lived in a state of absolute numbness. She didn't touch the synthesizer. She left the guzheng in its case. She stared at the ghostwriting NDA sitting in her email inbox, hovering her mouse over the digital signature line.

On the third night, her phone buzzed. It was a text from Leo.

* Don't sign it. Meet me at the Central Plaza in Chinatown. Now. Please, Chloe. Give me one last chance.*

Chloe stared at the text. She should ignore it. But the desperate, pleading tone of the message tore at her heart. She owed him a proper goodbye.

She grabbed her coat and walked out into the neon-lit night.