I move closer, recording quietly as her fingers trace the worn edges of an album. “What are you doing?” I ask, the curiosity slipping out before I can stop myself. Raina looks up, a spark of surprise widening her eyes, and my heart jostles at how easily she can evoke feelings in me.
“Rediscovering some old favorites,” she replies, her voice soft, almost reverent. It sends a shiver down my spine, threadingwarmth and nostalgia through me as she holds up a classic album cover, the colors sun-bleached but still vibrant in their memory. “I feel like there’s something here that could inspire us, you know?”
I move closer, drawn in by the way her delicate fingers brush over the vinyl. “You’re hoping for a musical epiphany, huh?” I tease, leaning against the door frame, folding my arms and holding the camera just right as I survey her with a playful smile. “Not that I doubt your instincts, but we might need more than a good groove to capture what’s in here.” I tap my chest lightly and watch as she flicks her gaze to the spot, a fleeting smile of playful defiance dancing on her lips.
“I’m serious! This music has layers, stories…” she trails off, eyes momentarily lost in thought as she seems to reach back in time. She reaches for a new album and holds it up for me to see. “I remember blasting this on repeat while dreaming about what my life would look like one day. Who knew it would be this messy?”
“But beautiful,” I counter, smiling. “Every note, every memory. Someone will hold up your album someday and say the exact same thing. Your music will help them survive what they think is messy because you’ve shown them strength and resilience through your lyrics.”
Her expression softens, and I catch it on camera—the flicker of emotion, the determination settling behind her eyes. These are the shots I love most: the ones that speak without words.
These videos I take aren’t simply about the music, I’m capturing our story.
Later that night, the glow of my laptop lights my face as I sift through the footage. The room is quiet but charged, perfect for editing short reels, little snippets of our lives. Each clip reveals a snapshot of who we are: messy, alive, real.
The clips flicker on my screen, each moment revealing a snapshot of our lives, and what I hope is a story of love and family when pieced together. My heart swells, remembering the joy and resilience that bloom in each frame.
I hit play, the sounds washing over me, and the colors bring life to the moments we’ve shared. My fingers glide over the keyboard as I cut between clips, my mind whirling with possibilities. There’s power in these snapshots—the joy, the vulnerability, the laughter—and I want to capture it all.
The first video takes shape, each cut syncing to the beat of our music. With a heavy heart, I select a clip where she’s mouthing lyrics to a melody. My finger hovers over the keyboard, and ultimately I decide to cut it. The realization settles in: I want to preserve the magic without putting her recovery on display for the world to dissect. It feels essential to maintain a balance between sharing our story and honoring her journey.
As the final clips come together, I begin crafting captions, pouring energy into each line as I set the stage for what’s to come: “Something brewing at Survival Records” and “The Storm is gathering...” Each phrase brims with intrigue, allowing me to hint at the excitement building without revealing everything about Raina’s path.
I inhale deeply, the anticipation buzzing beneath my skin. The world will see the truth of who we are and what Survival Records is all about. When I finally click ‘upload’ for the first reel, a sense of exhilaration washes over me, and all too quickly the first notification pings loudly.
Comments flood in almost immediately: “IS THIS A NEW ALBUM???” and “Raina looks amazing!” I scroll through theexcited chatter, my heart racing as I dive deeper into the sea of enthusiasm that surrounds us.
“I knew Raina would be back! She’s a survivor!!”
The comment makes me smile. I knew her fans would support her no matter what, but it’s nice to be proven right. Raina needs to see this.
Or maybe not…
The next comment that comes in says, “When do we hear her voice???” A frown tugs at my lips and a twinge of protectiveness sharpens within me, a mix of pride for Raina’s journey and the sudden weight of the world’s expectations bearing down on her.
“Keep scrolling, don’t let it get to you,” I mutter under my breath, determined not to let anything taint the moment we’ve worked so hard to create. And I’m probably simply being sensitive, the fan is most likely excited to hear the lyrics is all.
Within minutes, people are using the track in their own reels. Reaction videos, edits, hashtags. It’s a storm. Raina might not be ready to sing yet, but with every beat we create, we’re carving a future that honors her journey.
The mountain air is crisp this morning, although I think that every day when we gather around the breakfast table on the terrace. The scent of sizzling eggs and crisp bacon wafts toward me from the flat-top grill, and I breathe in the blend of normalcy and anticipation that’s become our mountain retreat.
Nash leans back in his chair, jiggling his leg excitedly. “You better believe I’ve been refreshing our socials like a hawk,” he says with a grin, excitement radiating from him.
“Did you see the comments pouring in?” I interject, my pocket buzzing as I mention it. “It’s insane. Our teasers are blowing up.” I pull out my phone, holding it up for them to see, and the screen lights up with notifications. I can see why Raina never monitored her socials herself, but that’s all changed now. Gill and I work together to make sure we present Raina’s image the way we want the fans to see her. Her old manager, Alyssa, is a far-off memory, not even worth a second thought.
“Holy shit,” Blake mutters, leaning closer to peek at the counts. “I knew it would explode, but these numbers are off the charts.”
“The comments are everything. People are seriously getting hyped,” I say, scrolling through the barrage of enthusiastic reactions.
Nash whoops in delight, tossing his hands up. “This is what I’m talking about! Raina deserves all the love! My baby is going viral!”
“At least it’s for all the right reasons this time, but let’s make sure we’re prepared for what comes next,” Blake cautions, his brow furrowing slightly. “It’s exciting, but Raina is still healing. I don’t want the pressure to crush her. And we know that asshole is simply waiting for the next time he can try to cut her down.”
I nod, feeling the weight of his concern resonate through the air. “We need to keep showing them the true Raina while maintaining her privacy at the same time,” I reply, glancing at Blake. “It’s a tightrope to balance.”
“You’ve done a good job with it so far,” Tristan murmurs, knowing all too well the struggle. “Maybe we should ask her to approve our videos going forward. I don’t want to slip up and share something she doesn’t want the world to know.”
His suggestion makes sense, especially with his working to earn her forgiveness.
