Page 76 of The Encore’s Crown

Do you understand?

Rithy’s hand settles on the back of my neck. His fingers grip firmly, and he leans closer until his shoulder presses into mine.

“For both of you, brother.”

I swallow, then nod. “Yeah.”

“I love you. You know that, right?”

I manage half a smile. It feels dead on my face.

“I know.”

He studies me for another second, so I reach for the bottle.

“More?”

“Always.”

I pour his first. The bottle taps softly against the rim because my hand won’t stop shaking. I tighten my grip but it's too late. Rithy sees it and his eyes drop to my fingers. Then lift to my face. Neither of us says anything. I set the bottle down carefully, then my hand disappears against my thigh beneath the edge of my hoodie. Out of sight, pretending like that changes anything. Rithy picks up his glass. His expression is quieter now, the certainty cracked around the edges. He knows, at least some of it, but he doesn't know all of it.

He doesn’t know the way she looked at me in Nagoya, hiding behind that sheet. The way I told her we’d figure it out, that it was our secret, like it was something beautiful because it belonged only to us. He doesn’t know how she slept curled against me, one hand resting over my heart as if she trusted it. Or how many times I almost called her back just now. How close I came to telling her I didn’t mean any of it. How badly I wanted to admit I was scared for her, for me, and for what this could do to both of us.

But he sees enough. My hand shaking and my eyes fixed on a phone that isn’t going to ring. The way I’m breathing like I just walked offstage after a three-hour set.

Rithy looks down at his drink, then back at me. Without a word, he holds out his pinky.

The same one we both got tattooed after our first decent check. The Khmer script is rough from the cheap shop we could afford back then, but we both know what it means.

Never again.

It started when Rithy was ten. Someone at school told him a pinky promise made whatever you said come true. That night, Dad was losing his shit downstairs, and Rithy crawled under my bed to hide. I found him there trying not to cry, so I told him we’d get out. That one day we’d never have to live in that house again. Never have to be afraid again. We’d take Ma with us and somehow figure out the rest. He made me pinky promise.

After that, he believed it like the promise had changed something. Like the moment our fingers locked, the future was already decided. So when we finally had enough money, we had the words inked onto our pinkies. A reminder of what we survived and what we built after. Whenever life gets hard, whenever the old fear starts creeping back in, we lock the promise again. We do it before every show because this band was never only about music.

It was our way out. Our proof that we kept our word to each other. Rithy pushes his hand closer when I hesitate.

"Never again, right? Nothing comes between us, this band, or what we fought for. Remember that. It'll hurt her now but it's for the best, for everyone." Finally, I hook my pinky around his, and we give the promise an aggressive tug. He smiles and slaps my shoulder.

"That's it."

He raises his glass and I lift my own. I drink before he can see my face change. Before he can see the exact moment it settles inside me.

I told myself I was cutting her loose for her own good.

All I did was put the knife through both of us.

Chapter 32

The Natalia I Know

Natalia

Three days after Japan, I’m sitting beneath fluorescent lighting while Denise scrolls through the open positions on her screen.

The temp agency occupies the fourth floor of a gray office building between a dental supply company and a place that sells industrial adhesives. Nothing has changed since the last time I was here. Same fake plants and stale coffee. Same framed poster insisting every opportunity begins with a positive attitude. Mine begins with jet lag, heartbreak, and the violent urge to tear the poster off the wall.

Denise glances over the top of her glasses. “How was Japan?”