Chapter 4

When Ray spotted the café, he pulled into the parking area and found a spot. After locking the car, he stepped inside, the scent of roasted beans and warm pastries greeting him. He pulled out his phone and called the client. It rang a few times before someone picked up.

"Hello? Who is this?" a voice asked on the other end.

"Uh... This is... Reverbious Maximus. I'm at the location right now. Which table are we meeting at?" He cringed slightly as he said it, still regretting the name, especially after what happened earlier.

"Oh! Sorry, I didn't save your number. Can you see someone standing up?" the voice replied, Ray looked around. A man in a suit was standing with a phone pressed to his ear, scanning the room. Ray figured it was him.

"Yeah, I see you." He ended the call and started walking over.

When he reached the table, he placed a hand lightly on the man's shoulder in greeting. "Nice to meet you, sir. I'm Ray, or well Reverbious Maximus."

The man turned around with a wide grin. "Ah, good to finally meet the person behind that infamous name."

But before they could continue, a familiar voice broke through from behind. "Ray? What are you doing here?"

He froze, turning toward the sound. There she was, Amaya. "What... wait, what are you doing here?" His voice mirrored her shock, his brows lifting as he tried to process the coincidence.

The man glanced at Ray, then back at Amaya. For both Ray and Amaya, felt déjà vu at the reaction. "Do you two know each other?" he asked.

Amaya opened her mouth to answer, but Ray beat her to it. "Yeah... sort of." His tone carried a dismissive edge.

The man clasped his hands together with a small, satisfied smile. "That makes things easier, then." He slid into the seat next to Amaya and gestured for Ray to sit as well.

Once Ray settled in, the man leaned forward. "Alright then, let's get started, Mr. Ray."

Ray nodded. "Yeah. Alright."

The man tilted his head. "So, I heard you can create a soundtrack based on the singer's voice and the lyrics?" His tone was curious, almost hopeful.

Ray nodded again, then gave a short explanation. "It's a bit trickier than standard mixing, but as long as I have the lyrics and the singer's tone, I can synthesize the instrumentals to match."

"Good... that's good," the man said, sounding relieved.

Ray raised an eyebrow. "May I ask why that's the first thing you wanted to know? Most clients don't start there."

The manager hesitated, glancing toward Amaya. She gave him a small nod, signalling him to explain.

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "The last band we worked with... let's just say they were asking for some very questionable payments. And as her manager, I wasn't going to allow it."

Ray's eyebrow lifted slightly higher, but he didn't comment. A short silence hung over the table before the manager clapped his hands lightly, his mood shifting back to business. "Anyway! How much will we owe you?"

"I'll need to see how long it'll take first," Ray replied evenly. "I have to calculate how hard it'll be to build the instruments around Amaya's vocals."

"That's fair," the manager said.

"I'll also need to hear her raw vocals in a proper studio," Ray added. "Can't risk poor mic quality messing with the work."

The manager looked at Amaya again. She simply nodded, glancing to the side before returning her gaze to the table. "Well, she's fine with it," the manager said, smiling. "Just email me the location."

As the conversation wound down, the food the manager had ordered ahead of time arrived. Plates were set on the table, and the awkwardness slowly faded into the background. They ate quietly for a while, business talk forgotten.

Ray focused on the sweets, and for the first time all evening, his expression softened. Amaya, sitting beside him, caught herself smiling as she watched him.

"I almost forgot how cute he looks when he eats sweets," she thought, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before taking another bite.

***

After they finished eating, the manager stood up, brushing his hands together. "I'll go pay the bill. Be right back."

Before Ray or Amaya could say anything, he was already heading off to the counter, humming cheerfully as he walked. Silence settled over the table.

The air felt heavier now, awkward in a way neither of them seemed eager to fix. Ray kept his eyes on the table, pretending to be interested in the untouched napkin beside his plate. Amaya, on the other hand, couldn't help sneaking glances at him. Just a few minutes ago, he'd been eating sweets with that calm, relaxed expression, and now he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but to be in a place with her.

She let out a quiet sigh and straightened her posture. "How have you been... these past couple of years?" Her voice was soft, an attempt to break the ice.

Ray froze for a second. Then, in a low, almost guarded tone, he replied, "I've... been doing fine." It wasn't much and it wasn't warm but nevertheless it was a response

Amaya nodded slightly, though her lips pressed together, as if searching for another topic. Nothing came. Instead, she closed her eyes briefly, exhaled, and sat up straighter.

"Look... I want to talk about what happened that day," she said at last.

Ray's expression hardened immediately. He didn't even look at her. That memory, the words she had said, he'd tried to bury it, but it had never really left. It was still there, sharp and vivid, no matter how many times he told himself he'd moved on.

"I think you and I both know," he said slowly, "that what you said back then was something you truly meant. And I've accepted it. I accepted it a long time ago."

"Ray!" Her voice sharpened, frustration bleeding through. "You're not even going to hear me out before dismissing me?"

He turned to her, his calm cracking just a little. "Just because you want to talk about it," he said, his tone edged with quiet anger, "doesn't mean I want to."

"Why can't you at least listen to what I have to say before dismissing me!?" Amaya's voice rose, but she quickly lowered it, mindful of the quiet café around them.

Ray's shoulders stiffened. "It hurts just remembering it, okay? Talking about it won't make me feel any better."

He paused, his hands curling into fists on his lap. His voice wavered, quiet but raw.

"Every time I think about it... my chest hurts," he admitted, each word strained. "I can still hear it, the harsh words... the laughter. It won't leave me. No matter how much I try, it's burned into my memory."

His breath hitched, uneven. He looked down, unable to keep speaking. The weight of it pressed against his ribs, dragging him back to that day... and that feeling he wished he could forget.

Amaya sat frozen, her lips pressed together, guilt flickering in her eyes. She wanted to reach across the table, to say something, anything, but nothing seemed to feel right.

And then, "Hey guys!" Her manager returned, smiling as if nothing had happened. "Sorry for the wait. The line was way too long. What did I miss?"

Amaya's chance slipped away. She couldn't say it. Not now.

Ray stood abruptly, his chair scraping softly against the floor. "Uh... thank you for the meal. I'll email you the studio location once I book a room. I've got commissions I need to get back to."

He gave a quick bow, not waiting for a response, and headed straight for the exit. Amaya watched him leave, her chest tight with words she couldn't say.

"Well, he's a busy guy. We should probably go-" The manager stopped mid-sentence when he glanced to his side. Amaya sat there, silent tears slipping down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Ray..." she whispered under her breath, her voice trembling. "Please... just let me apologize properly."

She didn't care that he couldn't hear her now. The words spilled out anyway, quiet and raw, as if saying them to herself was the only thing she could do.