The departure hall buzzed with voices, rolling suitcase wheels, and overhead announcements, but Amber barely heard any of it.
She clutched the strap of her backpack, her phone vibrating quietly in her pocket as she stood in line for the boarding gate. The glowing sign read: Flight 789 | London Heathrow to Sydney, Australia.
Her stomach twisted.
It was the first time she was going anywhere alone. Ever.
No chauffeur waiting outside. No assistant handling her passport. No parents giving last-minute instructions. It was just her, a duffel bag, a guitar case, and a future she hadn't figured out yet.
She adjusted her hoodie, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and took a shaky breath.
You can do this.
Amber fished out her phone, tapping open her last message thread.
Caroline: Text me the moment you land, baby. We'll be waiting.
A soft, unsteady smile tugged at Amber's lips.
For the first time in years, someone was waiting because they wanted her, not because they had to.
"Passenger 24B, please proceed to boarding."
Amber stepped forward. Her hands trembled as she handed over her ticket and passport. The flight attendant gave a polite smile.
"Have a good flight, miss."
Amber nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat as she made her way down the tunnel toward the plane. She kept her head down, heart pounding in her ears.
The weight of what she was leaving behind—and what she was about to face—pressed down on her chest.
She found her seat, stowed her bag, and sat by the window. As the engines rumbled to life, Amber stared out at the rain-specked glass, the city lights of London fading into the clouds.
And for the first time, she didn't know where her life was headed.
But it was hers now.
***
Back in London, the Hale estate sat in its usual cold, manicured quiet.
The dining room gleamed in polished perfection, an untouched dinner spread on the table. The staff moved wordlessly, trained to be invisible.
"Where's Amber?" Cynthia Hale demanded, her diamond earrings catching the light as she descended the staircase, glancing around.
A housemaid stepped forward hesitantly, wringing her hands.
"Ma'am… I… she's not in her room. I think she left… her bag is gone."
Cynthia's expression darkened.
"What do you mean, left? Left for where?"
The maid swallowed nervously.
"I—I'm not sure, ma'am… but the gate cameras showed her leaving with a suitcase late last night."
Selena looked up from her phone, snickering from the corner of the room.
"Told you she'd do something dramatic. She probably ran off to write songs in a cheap apartment somewhere."
Cynthia shot her a glare.
"Not now, Selena."
At that moment, William Hale stepped into the room, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt, a calm indifference on his face.
"Let it go, Cynthia," he said coolly, taking a sip from his glass. "I know exactly where she's gone."
Cynthia's eyes widened.
"What do you mean you know?"
"Australia," William replied with a cold, humorless smile. "To that disgrace of a sister of mine. Caroline."
Cynthia's perfectly sculpted brow arched.
"Wow. That idiot really ran to Caroline? The woman your family disowned for marrying a nobody? What does Amber even think she's going to do there?" She scoffed, pacing the room. "She just completed high school! What about her higher studies? I swear to God, if she even considers enrolling in some cheap, third-rate college over there, it'll ruin everything we've built. What will people say about our name? Do you have any idea what the Thornes will say if they find out she ran off like some… common delinquent?""
William chuckled darkly, adjusting his cufflinks.
"Let her try," he said with cruel ease. "The world isn't kind to girls like Amber. She's had everything handed to her on a silver platter her whole life. She's too soft, too naive. She'll get a taste of reality soon enough. And when she does… she'll have no choice but to come back."
Selena laughed, resting her chin on her palm, amused.
"It's honestly pathetic. She leaves behind all this—" she gestured around the opulent room, its gleaming chandelier, its priceless paintings "—for some dusty guitar and sad YouTube fans? She's not even that good."
Cynthia narrowed her eyes.
"I want someone tracking her. Discreetly. I won't have our family name dragged through the mud because of one foolish girl's tantrum. If she thinks she can build a life on passion and songs, she's more delusional than I thought."
William's lips curved into a cold smile.
"Let her burn herself out," he murmured. "She won't last six months on her own. She'll come back."
Selena rolled her eyes, her voice coated with mock sympathy.
"Poor thing. She's going to find out real fast the world doesn't hand out applause for pretty faces and basic vocals once the WiFi's gone."
A heavy, smug silence settled over the room. Her family was already sure that amber wont be able to do anything on her own. They were just waiting for her downfall so she can come back home again.
***
The warm, sun-drenched air of Sydney wrapped around Amber the moment she stepped out of the terminal.
It smelled different here. Sea salt and warm concrete.
It felt different too — lighter, as if the heaviness of London hadn't made the trip with her.
She tightened her grip on her duffel bag and guitar case, scanning the small crowd gathered near arrivals.
And then she saw them.
"AMBER!"
A loud voice cut through the noise, and before she could react, a tall, lanky figure was barreling toward her.
Jacob.
Her cousin, with the same wild, wavy hair he had as a kid, only taller now — and still grinning like he was five seconds away from getting them both into trouble.
He grabbed her in a bear hug, lifting her clean off the ground.
"Holy crap, it's actually you! You look older, but like… not in a bad way. Wow. You're still tiny though."
Amber let out the first real laugh she'd managed in days.
"Jacob, you idiot, put me down!"
"Not until you admit you missed me more than anyone else in the world!"
"Fine, fine! I missed you, okay?" she said through a watery grin.
He set her down and took her duffel, slinging it over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.
"And guess what? Mia's been losing her tiny mind waiting for you. She made this ugly-ass drawing of you yesterday, it doesn't even look human, but she was so proud, you gotta pretend it's amazing."
Amber laughed again, the knot in her chest loosening.
And then she saw her.
Aunt Caroline.
Standing a few feet behind, arms crossed, eyes soft, her face older but still carrying the same fierce warmth Amber remembered. Mia clung to her leg, wide-eyed and clutching a crumpled piece of paper in her tiny hand.
Caroline opened her arms without a word.
Amber dropped her guitar case and went straight into them.
For the first time in years, it felt like home.
"I'm so sorry," Amber whispered into her aunt's shoulder, her voice breaking.
Caroline held her tighter.
"You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. You're exactly where you belong."
Mia, her 5 year old tugged on Amber's sleeve.
"Look, look! I made you a picture! See? It's you and me and Jakey and Mommy and there's a rainbow and ice cream."
Amber knelt, wiping her eyes, and took the wrinkled paper.
The stick figures were crooked and one of them had purple hair, but it was perfect.
"It's beautiful, Mia. Best thing I've ever seen."
Mia beamed, hugging her around the neck.
"Okay, okay, bring it in, it's a family group hug now," Jacob announced, dragging both of them in.
***
{Later That Evening}
They sat in Caroline's cozy living room — walls lined with old photographs, the scent of lavender candles soft in the air.
Amber nursed a mug of hot chocolate while Mia dozed against her shoulder. Jacob lounged on the floor, tossing a stress ball in the air. The room felt nothing like the cold, stiff spaces she'd left behind. Here, it was alive. Real.
Caroline studied her niece carefully, her voice gentle.
"Alright, sweetheart… I won't push, but… what happened? Why now?"
Amber hesitated, then reached into her bag and pulled out a folded letter, her fingers trembling slightly as she handed it to Caroline.
"I got this a month ago. An audition invitation. From Crescent Records — one of the biggest indie labels out there. If I pass, I'll get to train under them while working part-time on covers and original tracks. And… if it works, I could start earning while I study."
Jacob sat up, wide-eyed.
"Holy crap, Amber. That's huge."
Amber gave a small, unsteady smile.
"I didn't tell anyone back home. I knew what they'd say. That it's stupid, reckless, impossible. And then they started arranging my engagement to some business heir like I'm property. I couldn't take it anymore."
Caroline's jaw clenched. She reached over and squeezed Amber's hand.
"You did the right thing, baby. I'm so proud of you."
Amber's throat tightened.
Caroline glanced at the letter again, then back at Amber, her tone kind but practical.
"And what about college, sweetheart? I know you just finished high school — do you have any idea where you'd like to study? I mean… music's important, but your education matters too."
Amber swallowed, grateful her aunt didn't treat her like a lost cause.
"I… I've been looking into schools here. Maybe something in Sydney. Music business or media arts, so I can learn the production and management side too. I thought maybe University of New South Wales or JMC Academy. I don't need some fancy Ivy League name… I just want something that fits me, you know?"
Caroline smiled.
"I love that. And we'll figure it out together, okay? Whatever you need — applications, fees, whatever it takes. You're not doing this alone."
Amber felt a lump rise in her throat again.
"Thank you, Auntie. I mean it."
"No thanks needed. You're family. And you deserve to build the life you want, on your terms."
Jacob grinned.
"And you're gonna crush that audition, by the way. I give it three weeks before you're famous and I have to start charging people for autographs because I'm your cousin."
Amber burst out laughing, some of the heaviness lifting from her chest.
For the first time in a long time… she felt like she belonged.
***
The days in Australia blurred into a steady rhythm.
Morning runs with Jacob. Long hours in the tiny spare room Amber had turned into her practice studio. Nights curled up on the couch with Mia watching old Disney musicals.
And always, the audition looming on the horizon like a storm cloud.
Amber practiced until her throat burned. She'd run through her most popular track — the one that made her social media blow up back home — over and over.
The notes came easy. The melody felt safe.
She told herself it would be enough.
Until her phone rang.
She glanced at the screen. It was Mrs Collins, her manager and her mentor since childhood.
Her stomach flipped. She hadn't spoken to her since she left London.
Swiping to answer, she pressed the phone to her ear.
"Hey," Amber said softly.
"For God's sake, Amber," came the familiar voice on the other end — equal parts scolding and relief. "You trying to put me in an early grave? You disappear halfway across the world without so much as a message?"
Amber winced, a guilty smile tugging at her lips.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Collins. It was… kind of a mess."
"Yeah, well, I figured it had to be if you up and left that circus. But damn it, kid — you could've called. I was worried."
Amber felt her throat tighten.
"I'm okay. Really. Better, actually."
There was a pause, then Mrs. Collins's voice softened.
"Good. You deserved better than what they were doing to you, Amber. Always did."
Amber blinked hard, her chest aching.
"Listen," she said quietly. "I… I don't have any money right now. And I can't ask you to keep working for me. It's not fair."
"Cut the crap." Mrs. Collins didn't hesitate. "I didn't start managing you because of your damn bank account, girl. I signed on because you've got something rare, and I'll be damned if I let you waste it. You can pay me when you're headlining your first world tour. Deal?"
Amber laughed, her voice catching.
"Deal."
"Good." There was a pause, then Mrs. Collins cleared her throat. "I heard about the audition. At Crescent Records."
Amber sighed, leaning back against the wall.
"Yeah… it's coming up. I thought singing my old viral song would be enough, but now I don't know."
"Listen to me." Mrs. Collins's tone turned firm. "Their music director, Vincent Dale, he's a perfectionist. Ruthless. He'll tear you apart if you show up half-baked. But you've got what it takes, Amber. You just need to stop hiding behind what's easy. Don't give him a pretty song — give him you."
Amber felt the weight of those words settle over her.
"I'll try."
"No, you'll do. Nerves are normal, kid. But you were made for this. And no matter what happens, you're already braver than half the people I know."
Amber swallowed the lump rising in her throat.
"Thanks, Mrs. Collins. Really."
"Go get some sleep. And call me after you knock 'em dead."
"I will."
She hung up, setting her phone down beside her guitar.
The room felt a little quieter after the call.
For the first time in days, doubt began to creep in around the edges.
Would her old viral song be good enough? She started to panic.
what will happen in the audition tomorrow? Amber mumbled being worried.