Chapter 1

My boyfriend secretly changed my songs into soulless commercial tracks to chase a solo deal.

Our bandmate Sam confronted him for me, but he coldly replied,

“Her songs are meant for me to sing. Without me, she’s nothing. Once I’m famous, I’ll just throw her some money.”

In that sweltering rehearsal room, he demanded I rewrite the lyrics again, so I calmly took back all my sheet music.

On the day of the music festival, he was sued for breach of contract,

while my song “Nameless Bird” was performed by another rising star — it blew up overnight and won Song of the Year.

"Change punk to pop? Add a rap bridge? Jax, are you insane?! Kira pulled three all-nighters writing this. Did you even ask her?"

Jax and Alex, our bassist, were fighting, their voices cutting through the cheap door of the rehearsal room.

Silence fell inside for a few seconds, then Jax's dismissive chuckle rang out.

"Ask her? The songs she writes, aren't they for me to sing?"

"Alex, get this straight. The only reason Tidal Wave Records even noticed our band is because of my looks and my voice, not her so-called 'artistic integrity'! Without my vocals, all her stuff is worthless!"

Alex was still fuming for me:

"What about Kira? Do you have any idea how much she's poured into this band? When we were dead broke, she worked three jobs a day, came home exhausted, eating cheap ramen, and still wrote songs for you!"

"Enough."

Jax's voice was edged with impatience.

"Once I'm famous, a big star, I'll just give her a lump sum to buy out the copyright, right? Why does a girl need so many grand dreams? Wouldn't a stable life be better? Anyway, she's dependent on me; I'll always take care of her."

"Besides, she's head-over-heels in love with me; she'll definitely agree to this."

I stood frozen in the hallway, clutching a bag of cold beers and some street tacos I’d just bought, listening to the conversation from inside the room.

We promised to stand on the music festival stage together, singing our own songs.

This was the pact we made the very first day we formed the band in college.

For this dream, we crammed into a rundown, cheap rental.

Whenever it rained, the roof leaked, flooding our room, and we had to sleep in water.

To save money for a decent used guitar, we ate instant ramen for an entire month.

At our poorest, I put down my pen and waited tables at a restaurant, handed out flyers on the street.

I had no choice. Music didn't pay, so I had to earn money to support the music, to keep the band alive.

Working all day, then staying up night after night, writing lyric after lyric, note after note.

But now, all my hard work, in Jax's eyes, was just a tool for his success.

Our rough beginnings, our struggling past, had become my personal joke.

I bit my lip, my eyes lowering, wanting to laugh, but no sound came out.

Jax wanting to be famous, that was normal.

But this was *my* song, and he was going to casually change it without telling me.

He was also going to casually trample on my talent and my dreams!

I wanted to push open the door and confront him, only to find my whole body trembling.

I took half a step forward, but my hand froze in mid-air, hovering over the doorknob.

After a long moment, I silently turned and walked away, pretending I knew nothing.

I just tossed that bag of still-warm tacos, along with that burning period of my youth, into the trash can in the hallway.

I did love Jax, but I loved my music more.

He could abandon his principles for a smooth path to stardom, but I had a sanctuary of music I wanted to protect.

I returned alone to our tiny, shared apartment, the one we jokingly called "the birdcage."

The room was small, with our band's first poster stuck on the wall. The young man in the poster smiled wildly, radiating passion.

Back then, Jax would sit on the rug, guitar in hand, singing the melodies I wrote, over and over.

"Kira, your lyrics and music have light in them, and I want to sing that light to the whole world!"

We busked in subway stations together, argued until dawn over a single chord progression.

Then we'd look at each other and laugh, thinking how freaking awesome it was to fight for a dream.

"The Unnamed Bird" – I wrote that song for him, and for our shared dream.

The bird in the song, breaking free from its cage and soaring into the storm, was a reflection of us.