"Okay, okay — last song before I log out, promise!" Amber grinned at the camera, strands of her chestnut-brown hair falling over her eyes as her phone screen exploded with heart emojis and comments.
"Sing our fav, Amber!"
"Girl, you're killing it today!"
"Drop that new cover already, queen!"
She bit her lip, watching the numbers climb: 23.5K viewers. Another good day.
Her fingers danced over her acoustic guitar, tuning it quickly as she leaned toward the screen. The fairy lights behind her shimmered in the background, reflecting off the posters of indie artists and handwritten lyrics that filled her bedroom walls.
"This one's for all of you who've stuck by me since day one," she said softly, strumming the first few notes of the ballad that made her go viral six months ago.
"Some nights feel longer than they should…
Some hearts break quieter than they could…"
Her voice was light, airy, effortlessly beautiful. It wasn't perfect, but it had that easy charm that made people stop scrolling and listen. The comment section flooded again.
"Amber your voice is heaven"
"Why isn't this girl on TV yet??"
"MARRY ME AMBER!!"
Amber laughed, finishing the last line with a playful wink. The last chord lingered in the air as she let out a breath.
"And… that's a wrap, folks!" she announced, waving at the screen. "Same time tomorrow, and maybe — maybe — I'll finally cover that BTS track you've all been bullying me about."
A chorus of "nooo!" and "yes plsss!" filled the chat. She smiled, feeling that familiar warmth she always did after a good live session.
23.5K people loved her.
And yet, as the live ended and her screen went dark, the room felt too quiet.
Amber tossed her phone onto the bed and stretched, gazing at her reflection in the mirror. The smile slipped. The room's glow faded. And like clockwork, reality slid back in — heavy and suffocating.
Her phone buzzed again.
Mom: Dinner at 8. And stop wasting time with that foolish nonsense. You're getting engaged next month whether you like it or not.
The message was blunt. Cold. The kind she'd gotten used to.
Amber stared at it, her stomach knotting. She was famous on the internet, adored by thousands. But in this house — she was just a burden waiting to be married off.
The warmth of the live stream was gone. The kind of love she could feel for a few minutes, from people she didn't know but who actually cared about her music. Who believed in her voice. Unlike anyone in this house.
She tossed the phone onto her bed and pulled on a hoodie, making her way downstairs.
The house was its usual cold, polished perfection — marble floors gleaming, art pieces hung in perfect symmetry, glass windows offering a million-dollar view of the city lights. But it never felt like home.
In the dining room, her mother sat at the head of the long, candlelit table. Every hair in place, dressed like she was hosting a charity gala instead of a family dinner. Her father nursed a drink at the other end, scrolling through his phone.
And sitting beside him was Selena — her sixteen-year-old sister. Perfect Selena, the golden girl. The one who got straight A's without trying, knew how to fake a smile in front of their friends' families, and never missed a chance to tear Amber down.
Selena's lips curved into a smirk as Amber entered.
"Well, look who remembered they live here."
Amber ignored her and slid into a chair at the far end of the table. A housekeeper silently set a plate in front of her — lemon roasted chicken, glazed vegetables, truffle mashed potatoes — the kind of dinner that could feed a family of six but always felt like stone in her stomach.
"Put your phone away, Amber," her mother snapped, even though Amber hadn't touched it.
"And wipe that ridiculous look off your face," her father added. "Whatever foolishness you wasted your time on tonight won't mean anything when you're married."
Amber's grip tightened on the silver fork.
She bit down hard on the words rising in her throat.
"I'm not marrying anyone," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
Selena snorted. "Oh, please. Can you stop with the teenage rebellion act? It's pathetic. You're not some starving artist in a movie. You're Amber Hale, daughter of William and Cynthia Hale. And your job is to look pretty, marry rich, and not embarrass us."
Amber's stomach twisted.
"I'm not giving up music because you don't get it," she said quietly.
Her father's laugh was sharp, cold. "Music is a hobby, Amber. Something bored girls do before they grow up and find a real purpose. I thought we indulged you long enough, but it seems we made a mistake."
Amber's mother set down her wine glass with a sharp clink. "Do you think your little covers on the internet make you special? People like you come and go every day. The only thing that matters in this world is legacy — and you're lucky someone like Noah Thorne is even considering taking you after your embarrassing stunts."
"I'm not property you can trade for status," Amber snapped.
Selena laughed under her breath.
"Could've fooled me. Honestly, I don't even know why you bother. You're not that good, Amber. People only watch you because you're rich and they like your face. The moment someone better comes along, you'll disappear like you were never there."
The words landed harder than Amber wanted them to.
But it was the next one that broke her.
Her father leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing.
"You'll marry Noah. And you'll be grateful you're not ending up a nobody. Because let's be real — without this family's name, you're nothing."
Amber's throat tightened. The air felt thin, her pulse pounding in her ears.
She pushed back from the table, the scrape of her chair cutting through the room's tense quiet.
"I'm done," she said, her voice breaking.
"With this house. With all of you."
"Go ahead," her mother scoffed. "But don't bother coming back when you realize the world doesn't care about your silly little voice."
Selena smirked, sipping from her glass like she was watching a show.
Amber turned, storming up the stairs two at a time.
Amber reached her room, slammed the door, and locked it. Her heart pounded in her chest, her vision blurring. The walls seemed to close in tighter around her — a beautiful, expensive prison she could never breathe in.
She dropped onto her bed, hands shaking, her phone lying next to her like dead weight. For a moment, she just sat there, too numb to move.
Then she reached for it.
Scrolled past the endless contacts she didn't care about.
And tapped on the only one that mattered.
Aunt Caroline.
The phone rang once. Twice.
"Hello?" Caroline's voice came through, soft and steady — a voice that sounded like warmth, like old road trips and secret movie nights.
Amber's throat closed. She opened her mouth, but the words caught.
"Amber? Sweetheart?"
That did it.
"Aunt Caroline—" her voice broke, and the tears finally came. Hot, choking, ugly sobs she couldn't hold back anymore.
"Hey, hey… breathe, honey. I'm right here. What happened?"
Amber squeezed her eyes shut.
"I… I can't do it anymore," she whispered. "I can't be here, Caroline. I… they don't see me. They don't care. And tonight… it was worse than it's ever been."
"What did they say, baby?"
Amber tried to steady herself, but the words poured out, fast and tangled.
"They're forcing me to marry some guy I don't even know, to make me shut up about my music. Mom said my voice is worthless. Dad said I'm nothing without their name. And Selena — she just… she just stood there laughing at me. Like none of this even matters. Like I don't matter."
A sharp intake of breath on the other end.
"Amber… I'm so sorry."
Amber let out a bitter, cracked laugh.
"And they mean it, Aunt Caroline. They really believe no one would care about me if it wasn't for them. And maybe… maybe they're right. Maybe I'm just wasting my time thinking I could be anything else."
"No," Caroline said firmly, her voice thick with emotion. "Don't you dare believe them. You are not them, Amber. You're not their trophy. You're not their mistake. You are so much more than this damn family will ever see."
Amber bit down on her lip, tears blurring her vision.
"I just… I don't want to stay here another night. I can't. Every time I walk into a room, it's like I'm suffocating."
A long, deep breath on the other end.
"Listen to me, baby. You don't have to. You don't owe them a damn thing. Pack what you need and come stay with me. You always have a home here, Amber. Always."
Amber covered her mouth with her hand as a fresh wave of tears hit her.
"I didn't know who else to call," she whispered.
"You'll never have to wonder that again," Caroline promised. "I'm here. I'm your family, whether they claim you or not. And I swear to you — you come here, and I'll help you figure out the rest. We'll get you back on your feet. We'll find a way to make your music your life, the way you've always wanted."
Amber exhaled a shaky, broken breath.
"I don't have much time. I'll pack my stuff. Can I… can I come tomorrow?"
"You can come this second," Caroline said. "Hell, I'll take flight right now and drive there to get you if I have to. Just say the word."
Amber managed the smallest, tear-soaked smile.
"I'll be there soon."
"Good girl. I love you, Amber. And I'm proud of you, whether those people see it or not."
Amber's voice cracked one last time.
"Love you too."
She hung up, wiped her face with trembling hands, and looked around the room.
And this time, she wouldn't stay. She quickly packed her bag and decided to leave. At least running away was better than to stay and get humiliated everyday. She would leave next morning quickly. Not like anyone would care if she left. Maybe next day would start fresh without any negativity.