I decided to try it—not because I wanted redemption, but because, as an artist, I couldn't turn away from a piece of music that deserved to come to life.
Theo handed me the lyrics.
" The frosty leaves are redder than February flowers; deep in the white clouds, there are homes."
It was a spliced-together line from a poem.
Though my voice was damaged, I could still manage one line—it wasn’t as if I had to carry an entire song.
Facing the microphone, I waited for the instrumental to begin. When it did, I sang.
When I finished, Theo stared at me, stunned.
“Aria, you’re amazing. This is exactly the feeling I wanted!” His excitement bubbled over. “I’m calling the producer right now!”
“Wait,” I interrupted. “I have one condition.”
“What is it?”
“Don’t credit me for the vocals.”
He paused but nodded. “Deal.”
By the time I returned to my hotel, it was already five in the morning. As soon as I unlocked the door, Owen barged in.
“Aria, you’ve been out all night with that guy. We’re even now, okay? Let’s start over!”
His bloodshot eyes and desperation made him look less like a man and more like a cornered beast.
“If you agree, we’ll get our marriage license and make it public tomorrow. The whole world will know that I, Owen, love only you.”
He continued, “And after that, we’ll move abroad. I’ll build my career there and we’ll cut off everyone you don’t want to see. How about it?”
I still didn’t respond to his words, “Aria, I love you. I love you to the bone.”
He went on and on. It was my turn to respond.
“Owen, would you do anything I ask?”
“Yes,” he replied firmly as if to convince himself.
“Alright,” I said. “Cancel your appearance at this year’s gala. And don’t perform alongside Tessa again.”
The room went quiet.
After a moment, his voice softened. “Anything but that.”
I had expected this.
I opened the door and gestured for him to leave.
“Aria, without me, what can you even do? Your voice is ruined. Do you really think you’re worth anything anymore?”
I almost laughed at the irony. My damaged voice was his doing. This was a debt I’d make sure he paid one day.
“if you’re not leaving, I’m leaving!”
I grabbed my bag, ready to go, but I didn't expect Owen to lunge at me, shoving me onto the bed.
“You’re mine, Aria. You’re not going anywhere.”
He stroked my ear, his voice dripping with possessiveness.
“You always say that abstinence fuels creativity. Now that you don’t even have a job, how about we indulge for once?”
He buried his face in the curve of my neck, pinning one of my wrists above my head while his other hand lingered near my chest.
“Owen!” I shouted, forcing my voice to stay steady.
“If you so much as lay a hand on me, I swear you’ll be trending on social media tomorrow.”
He froze. Nothing mattered to him more than his reputation.
He shoved a pillow off the bed in frustration, grabbed his clothes from the floor and stormed out.
Not long after, my phone buzzed with a message from him.
It was a photo—of me and Theo leaving the karaoke room together.
I knew what this was: a threat.
His accompanying text read:
"Aria, let me remind you of the facts. Your voice is gone and your career is over. Staying with me is the best option you’ll ever have in this lifetime."
This was his attitude after cheating?
I didn’t reply. Instead, I posted our entire chat history on WhatsApp.
Within hours, it went viral.
#OwenJamesAriaMiller
#OwenJamesWife-lovingPersona
#OwenJamesChatsHistory
#OwenJamesExposed
The hashtags dominated the trending list.
By the next day, his PR team went into overdrive, accusing me of fabricating the screenshots to gain attention because I couldn’t find a job. They claimed I was just trying to sell products.
I didn’t bother responding. Instead, I gave a slew of interviews and every one of them painted a vivid picture of the truth.
While Owen’s career plummeted, Theo released his new song, "Melodic Journey."
It blew up almost overnight. Theo became the music industry’s rising star.
Speculation about the mysterious female voice in Theo’s new song spread like wildfire in the industry and among fans.
Music bloggers shared their theories, but not a single person guessed it was me.
That was precisely why I had insisted on staying anonymous. I wanted honest feedback, free from the shadow of my name or my past.
It didn’t take long for Tessa to capitalize on the buzz. She posted a video of herself gracefully writing on a piece of paper: “The frosty leaves are redder than February flowers.”
The internet erupted, declaring her the most likely candidate for the mystery singer.
But this spotlight wasn’t hers to claim.
A few weeks later, Theo and I appeared on a music show to perform "Melodic Journey" together. Before the show aired, the producers teased the performance with an announcement: a “mystery female singer” would join Theo on stage. Within three days, the episode racked up over 10 million reservations.
The performance was meticulously staged. Theo began singing solo under the spotlight. As my part approached, I rose from beneath the stage, my back to the audience. I panicked when Theo reached for my hand and led me toward the center of the stage.
“Aria, you’ve got this.”
Although I had practiced countless times, I was so nervous on stage that I lost my voice for a while.
I realized that this stage was too important to me. If I succeeded, I would rise again and if I failed, I would never get out.
I gripped the microphone and drew a deep breath.
