Chapter 3: Shadows of the Spotlight

The hallway felt colder than usual on Monday. Not because of the weather, but because Noah hadn't said a word to Liam since the showcase.

They passed each other near the lockers—Noah's eyes barely flicked in Liam's direction. The easy banter, the friendly jokes, the subtle guitar riffs they used to exchange during practice—gone. And Liam hated how heavy it all felt.

He hadn't meant to compete. He hadn't meant to win. But somewhere between the notes and Emma's eyes, that song became more than just a confession—it became a wedge.

Still, Liam wasn't going to apologize for telling the truth.

He sat at the edge of the school's fountain, guitar resting on his lap, when he heard footsteps.

"You've gone mysterious musician on me," said a voice.

He looked up.

Emma.

She wore a navy-blue jacket, her hair pulled into a messy bun, her smile tilted just enough to look teasing. But her eyes were watching him carefully—like she was trying to read something he hadn't said yet.

"I'm not hiding," Liam mumbled.

"Then why haven't you replied to any of my texts?" she asked, sitting beside him.

He sighed. "I just needed... space."

"From me?" she asked.

He didn't answer. Not really.

"Emma—things are weird with Noah now. And I get it. I stole his spotlight. But I also—" he hesitated. "I also meant every word in that song."

She looked down at her hands, then back at him. "I know."

He waited for more. But she didn't say it.

Instead, she stood. "There's someone I want you to meet."

Liam blinked. "What?"

"She arrived last night. And knowing her, she's already talking to half the town."

Before Liam could ask who she was, Emma was already walking ahead, motioning him to follow.

They entered the café across the street—cozy, bustling with after-school energy. And there, seated by the window in a mustard-yellow sweater, was a girl who looked like Emma... but somehow didn't.

She had a sharper jawline, a mischievous glint in her eye, and a strawberry milkshake in front of her like it was a crown.

"Liam," Emma said, "meet Emily—my twin."

Emily stood and gave a dramatic bow. "The prettier, funnier, and more dangerous version."

Liam chuckled despite himself. "You guys are twins?"

"Technically. But I like to think I'm the original," Emily grinned. "So you're the famous Liam."

"Famous?"

Emily smirked. "Emma sent me the video. I cried. Then I laughed. Then I rewound it and cried again. Solid performance, Romeo."

Liam turned to Emma, wide-eyed. "You sent her the video?"

Emma looked innocent. "I needed a second opinion."

Emily leaned in. "For the record, I ship it. The shy musician and the girl who gave him his voice? Come on. That's top-tier fanfiction energy."

Liam blushed.

They spent the next hour at the café, and Liam found himself laughing more than he expected. Emily had a way of saying things that were just on the edge of rude but somehow charming. And Emma? She laughed so easily around her sister—it was like seeing a lighter side of her he hadn't known.

But every now and then, when Emma looked at him, there was something quieter behind her smile.

Unspoken things.

Later that week, the band had another practice session. The tension between Noah and Liam hadn't disappeared, but they pretended it had. Until it couldn't be ignored anymore.

"I say we lead with the new song," Liam suggested.

Noah shook his head. "We lead with our original. The one I wrote the hook for."

"Yeah, but that's not what's getting people talking," Liam said.

Jason, the drummer, looked between them. "Guys—chill."

"I'm chill," Noah said. "I'm just wondering when this turned into The Liam Show."

Emma's head snapped toward him. "Noah—"

"No, seriously," Noah said. "One solo and now he's the lead? Come on."

Liam stood. "You know what, maybe I am the lead. At least I'm not hiding behind charm and guitar tricks."

The silence was explosive.

Noah stepped forward, voice low. "Careful, man."

Jason raised a hand. "Guys—stop. Seriously. This is about music."

Emma grabbed Liam's arm. "Outside. Now."

They stepped out into the hallway, her face flushed with frustration.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. "You think this helps anyone?"

"I didn't start it."

"You sure didn't end it either," she snapped. Then she softened. "I know things are complicated. But this... this doesn't have to turn ugly."

Liam leaned against the wall, rubbing his face. "I just feel like everything's changing. You, Noah, the band... I don't know where I fit anymore."

Emma stepped closer. "Liam, the spotlight doesn't define you. You do. Don't lose yourself just because someone else is clapping louder."

He looked at her. She was so close. So steady.

"You really sent her the video?" he asked quietly.

Emma laughed. "She made me."

He smiled. "She's... intense."

"She's Emily," Emma said fondly. "She's also staying for a few weeks. So... you've been warned."

Liam laughed again.

And just like that, the tension dissolved—for now.

As they walked back into the room, something had shifted. Not fixed. Not finished. But shifted.

Noah barely looked at him. Emily, later that night, would randomly text Liam: "Team You. But I also like chaos. So don't bore me."

And Liam, lying in bed, would think about Emma's words. About the spotlight.

And the fact that maybe... just maybe... the real battle wasn't about music at all.

It was about what came after the music stopped.