Chapter Twenty-Two
Raven woke to sunlight streaming through the bedroom window and the distinct sensation that the universe had tilted slightly on its axis.
Annabelle was already gone. She'd left early for school, pressing a kiss to Raven's forehead and whispering something about Year Three and a science experiment involving vinegar that Raven was fairly certain she'd dreamed.
But the pillow still smelled like her shampoo, floral and sweet, and the sheets were warm where she'd been sleeping.
Raven lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to catalog the feeling in her chest.
It wasn't panic. That was new.
It was something else. Something lighter. Something that felt suspiciously… hopeful. Like maybe… maybe she was happy? Maybe she could handle this?
She sat up, ran a hand through her tangled hair, and padded barefoot to the kitchen. Her notebook was on the counter where she'd left it, pages covered in half-finished lyrics and chord progressions that had been eluding her for months.
She made coffee, strong, black, the kind that could wake the dead, and settled at the table with her guitar.
The melody came easily this time. Her fingers found the chords without fumbling, and the words followed, spilling out in a way they hadn't since before Alissa's wedding, before the breakup, before everything had fallen apart.
Finding home in unexpected places
Learning how to let the light back in
Maybe broken isn't permanent
Maybe this is where I begin
Raven played through the verse twice, adjusting it, humming under her breath. It was rough, needed work, it still wasn’t a whole song, but it was real. It was hers. It was getting there.
And it was about Annabelle. Obviously. Because apparently Raven had turned into the kind of sap who wrote love songs about her neighbor. She groaned to herself, but couldn’t bring herself to regret it.
She set the guitar down and stared at the notebook, that unfamiliar lightness still blooming in her chest.
Maybe this could work. Maybe Annabelle was good for her. Maybe, after everything, this could actually be something.
Her phone rang.
Raven glanced at the screen. Unknown number. She almost didn't answer. It was probably a journalist, or a fan who'd somehow tracked down her private line, which definitely happened, but something made her pick up anyway.
"Yeah?"
"Raven. It's Henry."
Raven's stomach dropped. Henry. Her bassist. She hadn't spoken to him since she'd walked out on Krimson Khaos.
"What do you want?"
"Straight to the point as always." Henry laughed, but it sounded forced. "Look, I'm calling because we've been talking, me, Dev, and Simon, and we want to do a reunion tour."
"No."
"Hear me out—"
"I said no, Henry."
"Just listen for one minute." His voice took on that wheedling, persuasive quality she remembered too well.
"We're talking massive venues. Wembley, the O2, maybe even a few international dates.
The label's already interested, they're throwing serious money at this.
This could be huge, Raven. A chance to reclaim everything. "
Raven's jaw tightened. "I don't need to reclaim anything. I'm doing solo work now."
"In a village in the middle of nowhere?" Henry’s skepticism was audible. "Come on. You're hiding out, licking your wounds, and that's fine. Take your time. But you're not going to write a comeback album sitting in some cottage. You need the energy, the pressure, the spotlight…"
"What I need," Raven said coldly, "is for you to stop telling me what I need. I'm not interested in the reunion. I'm not interested in reliving the past. The answer is no."
"Think about the money."
"I don't care about the money."
"Then think about the legacy!" Henry was warming to his pitch now, relentless.
"Krimson Khaos was one of the biggest rock acts in the country.
We can't just let it die like this. One final tour, go out on a high note, show everyone we're still relevant.
Or maybe a beginning tour, the start of something new. "
"I'm still relevant," Raven snapped. "I don't need Krimson Khaos to prove that."
There was a pause. Then Henry said, carefully, "Is this about Alissa?"
"This has nothing to do with Alissa."
"Because she's not part of this. It's just the four of us. We thought you'd be more comfortable…"
"I'm hanging up now."
"Raven, wait—"
She ended the call and set the phone down, her hand trembling slightly.
For a long moment, she just sat there, staring at the coffee going cold in her mug.
A reunion tour. Massive venues. Millions of pounds. The chance to prove she wasn't washed up, that she was still Raven, still somebody people wanted to see.
She looked down at the notebook, at the half-finished lyrics about home and light and beginning again.
"No," she said aloud to the empty kitchen. "Absolutely not."
But the unease lingered anyway, stubborn and uncomfortable, settling into her bones like an old ache.
THAT EVENING, ANNABELLE arrived with takeaway from the pub, fish and chips wrapped in paper, still hot and smelling gloriously of vinegar and grease.
"Can’t leave me alone?" Raven said, opening the door to her.
"If I don’t check on you once a day, you might disappear," Annabelle said.
Raven stood back to let her in, heart filling up at the sight of her. "I’m not disappearing."
"So say you. You might catch a case of the regrets, in which case, I want to be here to remind you of what you shouldn’t be regretting."
Closing the door, Raven caught her arm, pulling her close enough to nuzzle a kiss onto her cheek. "No regrets. Not yet."
"Good," Annabelle said briskly. "Now come on, let’s eat, before it gets cold."
"Yes, ma’am."
"Arty says hello," Annabelle announced, setting the food on Raven's kitchen table. "And that you're a 'dark horse,' whatever that means. He winked when he said it, which was both charming and slightly unsettling."
Raven felt the corner of her mouth twitch despite the weight still sitting on her chest. "Arty's a menace."
"He really is." Annabelle smiled, but Raven could see the exhaustion around her eyes, the tightness in her shoulders.
"Sorry I'm late, by the way. Gloria called me three times about the skit for the children, and then Mrs. Henderson had concerns about the raffle prizes, and then I had to rewrite half the script because obviously eight-year-olds can't be trusted with long monologues—"
"Annabelle," Raven said gently. "Breathe."
Annabelle stopped, blinked, and let out a long breath. "Right. Yes. Breathing. I'm doing that."
They sat down to eat, and for a few minutes there was comfortable silence broken only by the sound of cutlery and the occasional satisfied hum from Annabelle.
"This is exactly what I needed," Annabelle said, stealing one of Raven's chips. "Comfort food and good company."
"You can have your own chips, you know."
"Yours taste better."
"They're literally the same chips."
"Stolen food always tastes better. It's science." Annabelle grinned, then tilted her head, studying Raven. "You're quiet. More than usual, I mean. What's wrong? Regrets sneaking up on you?"
Raven set down her fork. She should have known Annabelle would notice. The woman noticed everything. She blew out a breath. She couldn’t let her think that she was having regrets. Last night was the first thing she hadn’t regretted in a very long time. Which meant that she had to tell the truth.
"My old bandmates called today," she said. "They want to do a reunion tour."
Annabelle's eyes widened. "Oh. That's… that's a big deal, isn't it?"
"Yeah. Massive venues, huge money, the whole package."
"And?" Annabelle prompted gently.
"And I told them no." Raven reached for her water. "I'm not interested. I'm doing solo work now. I meant what I said about leaving that behind."
"Okay." Annabelle nodded slowly. "How do you feel about it?"
"Fine. I feel fine."
It was a lie, and they both knew it. But Raven couldn't quite articulate the unease churning in her gut, the way Henry’s words kept echoing in her head. You're hiding out. You need the pressure. You're not going to write a comeback album in some cottage.
What if he was right? What if she was just running away, hiding from the world instead of facing it?
She glanced at Annabelle, who was watching her with that open, trusting expression, and felt something twist inside her.
"It's fine," Raven said again, more firmly this time. "Really. It's not something I want."
Annabelle smiled, but there was something tentative about it, something that suggested she didn't entirely believe the reassurance. "Alright. If you're sure."
"I'm sure."
They finished dinner, and Annabelle insisted on washing up while Raven put away the leftovers. It should have felt easy, domestic, comfortable. But Raven couldn't shake the weight pressing down on her shoulders.
After they'd cleaned up, Annabelle stood up, muttering something about needing to finalize the skit.
"You don't have to do that now," Raven said. "You look exhausted."
"I'm fine," Annabelle said brightly, in exactly the same tone Raven had used earlier. "Just need to get this sorted. Gloria wants it by tomorrow, and I promised the children we'd start rehearsing."
"Then do it here," Raven said, suddenly reluctant to let her go. "Sit on the couch and work here so I can keep an eye on you and send you to bed early."
Annabelle got her bag and her laptop and was just settling on the couch when her phone buzzed. She glanced at it and groaned.
"Gloria again?" Raven guessed.
"Gloria again." Annabelle set the phone face-down on the coffee table with more force than necessary. "She wants to add another musical number. Because apparently a skit isn't enough. We need more songs now."
"Tell her no."
"I can't just tell her no. She's been helping with the fundraiser, and she's very enthusiastic, and…" Annabelle rubbed her eyes. "Sorry. I'm being ridiculous. It's fine. Everything's fine."
Raven studied her, the way Annabelle kept saying everything was fine when it clearly wasn't, the dark circles under her eyes, the tension in her jaw.
"You're allowed to not be fine, you know," Raven said quietly.
Annabelle looked up at her, surprised. Then she laughed, but it sounded tired. "That's rich, coming from you."
"Yeah, well. Do as I say, not as I do."
Annabelle's expression softened. She reached over and took Raven's hand, threading their fingers together. "We're quite a pair, aren't we? Both terrible at admitting when things are hard."
"Absolutely terrible," Raven agreed.
They sat like that for a moment, hands joined, and Raven felt some of the tension ease from her shoulders.
But then Annabelle's phone buzzed again, and she pulled away with an apologetic smile. "I really do need to finish this."
"Alright."
Raven picked up her own phone while Annabelle bent over her laptop, typing furiously.
The screen lit up with notifications. Messages from her manager. Texts from Henry. And several news alerts, all variations on the same theme:
"Raven's Secret Village Hideaway Exposed"
"Inside the Quiet Town Where Rockstar is Hiding"
"Mystery Woman Spotted With Raven—Is Love on the Cards?"
Raven's stomach dropped.
She scrolled through the articles quickly, her heart sinking with each headline. There were photos, grainy, taken from a distance, but clear enough. Her at the bake sale. Her walking through the village. Her and Annabelle together, heads bent close, laughing.
This was getting worse. And Blossom had mentioned the paparazzi at the café this morning, which meant they were already here, already circling.
Raven glanced at Annabelle, who was still focused on her laptop, brow furrowed in concentration as she typed. Her phone buzzed again, probably Gloria, and she let out a small, frustrated sigh.
She looked exhausted. Overwhelmed. Like she was already carrying more than she could handle.
Raven's jaw tightened.
She couldn't add to that. Couldn't dump this mess, the press, the speculation, the inevitable circus that followed her everywhere, onto Annabelle's shoulders when she was already drowning in fundraiser chaos and school responsibilities and Gloria's endless demands.
No. She'd handle this herself. Keep it contained. Protect Annabelle from the worst of it. Which should be easy enough if Annabelle wasn’t on social media.
She'd keep her safe from all that, no matter what.
Raven deleted the notifications and set her phone aside.
"Everything okay?" Annabelle asked, glancing up.
"Yeah," Raven lied. "Everything's fine."