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I take it she’s arguing with Robert, Ashley’s manager. She’s been doing that a lot lately. Throwing a fit every time she feels herself losing control of her precious Ashley. Ash is slowly slipping through her fingers, and my mom knows it.

She feels it coming, creeping up on her with each passing day.

The impending moment where Ashley turns eighteen and leaves her. Mom will no longer be able to hold, “As long as you are a minor and living under my roof,” over Ashley’s head. And I think—no, I know—she’s poured so much energy into Ash’s career, she’s terrified she won’t know what to do with herself once the gifted daughter leaves the nest.

Rob’s been patiently waiting for the day he can make Ashley a real star, and he won’t have to wait much longer. Next year, Ash will be graduating from her prestigious music school, and my mom’s reign will end once and for all. I wouldn’t be surprised if she sold the house and followed Ashley halfway across the world to keep it going.

As quiet as can be, I push the front door closed with my palm and tiptoe toward the stairs. I’m not in the mood to talk to—

“Aveena? Is that you?”

Damn it.

“Who else would it be?” I mumble.

“Perfect, you’re home.” My mom turns the corner. “Did you pick up Ashley from—”

“Yes, I picked her up from her singing lesson.” I know the drill by now.

“And did you drive her to the ten-year reunion for—”

“Yes, Mom,” I repeat.

“Good girl.” Mom nods in satisfaction.

We found out a few days back that the producers of Rising Voices were interested in taping a ten-year reunion with Ashley. Technically, it’s been eleven years, but I’m guessing it didn’t sound as catchy. They were so eager their team even made the trip to North Carolina.

They’ll be throwing a quick interview with Ashley at the end of next week’s episode in a “Where are they now?” type thing. I’m not surprised. Ashley is one of the only winners from the competition to actually builda career and online presence from the show’s exposure.

I still remember it like it was yesterday.

It couldn’t have been more than two days since Ashley had won first place. Dad, Ashley, Mom, and I were about to leave California, where the show was taped, and waiting for our delayed flight in a ridiculously expensive suite—courtesy of the show’s network.

That’s when Mom pulled out her brand-new camcorder and told my sister to sing something. My mom’s name should’ve been Esther Overachiever Harper because it took her under ten minutes to create Ashley’s YouTube channel and post a video of six-year-old Ash nailing “No One” by Alicia Keys.

Twenty-four hours later, she had ten thousand subscribers.

Forty-eight hours later, fifty thousand.

On day three, one hundred thousand.

Then, ironically, by the time Ashley’s seventh birthday rolled around, she had seven hundred.

Mom pulls out her phone to order dinner. She doesn’t cook anymore. Says she’s too busy since she made assisting Ashley in her musical career a full-time job. She now spends her days locked in her “office”, aka my dad’s old trophy room, on her computer doing only heaven knows what.

I can’t recall the last time we were allowed in there while she worked. She’s kept the door locked since Dad left us.

Ashley has never so much as batted an eye at Mom living on the Rising Voices million-dollar prize and her YouTube channel ad revenue and sponsors. I asked my sister about it once, and she said she could only be grateful Mom believed in her so much she quit her job as an accountant.

“What time do I have to pick her up again?” I ask before exiting the room.

“Rob will be giving her a ride home tonight,” Mom says, eyes glued to her phone. “He flew into town this morning to accompany her.”

“Okay.” I swivel to leave but…

Somethingkeeps me in place.

A long-forgotten memory.

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