***"Walk slow and low on a tightrope***
***Hope it lasts but you know, you never know" - LP***
***Holden Young***
At 16, I had my first encounter with disappointment. Not the kind that comes from losing a competition or being rejected over something trivial. It was a deep, personal disappointment that left me shattered inside. The kind of pain that doesn’t heal with time but seeps in, like water through cracks, shaping everything that comes after.
When Alissa left, without warning, without saying goodbye, something inside me broke.
I spent months—maybe years—trying to understand what I had done wrong. Had I pushed too hard? Were my bad jokes and constant advances too much? Or had she simply… grown tired of me?
Those questions echoed cruelly in my mind, day after day until they turned into certainties I built myself. "You weren’t enough." That’s what my mind told me.
Now, at 24, lying alone in my room, with her scent still lingering on my sheets, I realized that part of me was still that 16-year-old boy. Still waiting for an explanation. Still afraid that she might leave again.
I wanted to believe that things would be different this time. I wanted to trust that Alissa wouldn’t run away and that our reconnection was solid. But the truth is, the scar of abandonment had never really left me.
Even knowing she didn’t want to go, that she had no choice, it still haunted me.
I got up, trying to shake off those thoughts. I walked around the apartment, the space far too big to feel this empty. The guitars propped against the walls seemed to stare at me, silent witnesses to the chaos in my head as I circled aimlessly, unsure of where to go.
Then I made a decision.
I had to do something. I couldn’t keep carrying this weight alone. I decided to talk to Cyrus about what I was feeling.
He was pragmatic, maybe even cynical at times, but he knew how to handle crises. I didn’t know if it was the best choice—to share something so big with someone who already controlled much of my professional life—but I needed guidance.
Cyrus met me in the makeshift office in my apartment, surrounded by documents and notes I could no longer bear to look at. Flyers for the tour were scattered on the table—dates, venues, all constant reminders that I’d be leaving for a while. And she would stay behind.
Cyrus arrived not long after. As always, he was immaculate. His suit was perfectly tailored, his graying hair slicked back, and his gaze sharp as ever, analyzing me with a mixture of curiosity and caution.
“You called me. That’s new,” he said, pulling out a chair to sit down.
“I needed your opinion,” I replied, gesturing toward the papers on the table.
He looked at the documents, then at me, his expression growing more serious than I’d ever seen. “Is this a problem?”
I nodded. “Sort of. I think it’s better if you see it for yourself.”
I opened the drawer and took out the folder Michael had given me when I asked for more information about Alissa. Inside were her criminal record, her file from the reformatory, details about the facility, and most importantly, records tying my father to the time she was sent there.
The furrow in Cyrus’s brow deepened with each page he read, and for a moment, I wondered if this was the point where he’d decide this mess wasn’t worth it and walk out. But I underestimated him, as I often did. Cyrus was tougher than that, and I had a lot to learn from him.
“Holden… do you have any idea what you’re dealing with here?” he asked, leaning forward.
“I do,” I said, though my voice wavered slightly.
“Then why call me?”
“Because I don’t know what to do,” I admitted. Vulnerability in my voice was rare, even for me. I’d grown used to wearing a mask of false confidence, and sometimes I forgot what it felt like to be exposed.
Cyrus was silent for a moment, studying the papers. He shook his head and sighed. “You don’t want to expose this, do you?” he finally asked, his eyes fixed on mine with an expectation I wasn’t sure I could meet.
“Part of me does. But…” I hesitated, looking down at my hands. “Part of me knows it will destroy more than just them.”
“Yes, it will,” he agreed, without sugarcoating. “You, me, everyone. A scandal like this, especially with you technically having hit the girl… God, Holden. It’s everything the media would need for a public lynching.”
“And if I do it? If I just put everything out there?” I asked. “What then?”
“Then your career, your stability, your life—especially Alissa’s—would be on the line.” He spoke plainly. “But the real question isn’t what you’ll lose, Holden. It’s what you hope to gain from it.”
The silence that followed was heavy.
“And what about Alissa?” I asked, changing the subject.
Cyrus raised an eyebrow, surprised. “What about her?”
“How can I stay with her knowing this? Knowing what my family did to her?”
Cyrus sighed again, rubbing his face. “Listen, kid. You can’t save everyone. Not her, not yourself, not if you keep going like this. This is bigger than you. Let’s say you expose them. What do you think will happen? Your father is one of the most influential businessmen in his field. He has enough money to disappear and live comfortably for the rest of his life, no matter the headlines. But you, Holden, you’re just starting out.”
His words cut deep, but they made sense.
“I guess it’s something I’ll have to swallow,” I said, clenching my fist against the table, feeling the anger boil inside me. “Sometimes I think I wasn’t made for this, for seeing all this dirt and just sweeping it under the rug.”
Cyrus stood, pacing the room as if it helped him think. He licked his dry lips and ran a hand through his graying hair, analyzing the situation.
“Look, kid. Sometimes the best way to fight something is to get stronger first. Do you want to help Alissa? Then focus. Build your career, gain influence. You’ll have more power to make a difference when the time is right.”
“And if that time never comes?” I asked, frustration bubbling to the surface.
“Life isn’t fair, Holden,” he replied bluntly. “But right now, you have something that can change your life. Don’t throw it away.”
I stayed silent, staring at the papers on the table. He was right. I knew he was right. But that didn’t make the decision any easier.
Cyrus got up, patting my shoulder lightly. “The album release party is in two days. Focus on that. And… maybe it’s best if you don’t bring Alissa.”
I looked at him, surprised. “What do you mean?”
“You need to show you’re focused. That nothing distracts you—not even her.” He paused, his tone shifting to something softer. “And honestly, Chloe would be a more… fitting choice for the event.”
“Chloe?” My voice was louder than I intended.
“It’s what the team suggests,” Cyrus said with that pragmatic tone I hated. “And I agree. It’s time to play the game for real, Holden. This time with Alissa, reconnecting, I get it. But now? This phase is about your career. Make smart choices.”
He left before I could argue.
When Cyrus was gone, I sat on the couch, staring at the documents.
Leaving Alissa felt impossible. Exposing my parents seemed just as out of reach. And now, the album release party—something that should’ve been a high point in my life—loomed as another complication.
But at least getting this off my chest lightened the load, even if just a little. Maybe focusing on work was the solution, the only way to prevent all of this from spiraling into a nightmare.
My phone buzzed, interrupting my thoughts. I opened my notifications and saw a message that felt like a cruel twist of fate.
**Mom: We’re on our way. Don’t make a scene.**
Yeah, I was walking a tightrope, and I had no idea how to get off it.