Lustre

Lustre was at the height of their fame—a group synonymous with charm, talent, and impeccable harmony. Asaiah had always been the quiet one, the steady foundation holding them together while the others shone brighter. But what she lacked in flashiness, she made up for with her resilience and quiet brilliance.

That was, until the betrayal.

Bea, the group’s light, the funny, pretty, and talented one, had been sleeping with Asaiah’s boyfriend, Aaron, for months. It all came out when one of Bea’s supposed “sick breaks” turned out to be a secret trip with him. The scandal broke Asaiah, but what hurt more was the aftermath.

Instead of rallying around her, the group and the management turned their attention to protecting Bea’s image. Bea’s reputation was too vital to Lustre’s brand, and everyone made it their mission to ensure she came out of the scandal unscathed.

“It’s okay, she’ll understand... love is love,” some of them had said behind Asaiah’s back.

The final blow came during a meeting in the conference room, where every manager and team member was working tirelessly to save Bea’s reputation. Asaiah stood unnoticed at the door, listening to their plans, their reassurances to Bea. Not one word of concern for her.

She stepped inside and cleared her throat. “I’m not making a statement,” she said, her voice cutting through the room.

Everyone turned, stunned.

“What? Do you know what this will do to the group? To the company? To ............” one manager stammered.

Asaiah stared them down, her voice steady. “Bea? Right? That’s what you were going to say. I’m not making a statement. That’s final. If you want to kick me out, fine. But I won’t be part of this.”

She left the room, drove to the river, and stared at the water, her reflection rippling in the gentle current. How little respect they had for her. She laughed bitterly, shaking her head.

“I always wanted to be a star,” she whispered. “To perform on the biggest stages. And I won’t let this stop me. Not for them. Not for anyone.”

A quick shiver reminded her it was getting dark. She stood and drove back to the communal house, where the others were waiting. Maya tried to start a conversation.

“We need to talk about what’s going on,” Maya said firmly.

Asaiah’s eyes hardened. “No, we don’t. We’ll ignore this scandal and keep working as usual. Sing, dance, perform, and that’s it. If the company wants Bea to make a statement, she can. But don’t expect anything from me.”

“She’s hurting too, you know?” Maya tried again.

Asaiah laughed sharply. “Is she hurting because of what she did? Or because she got caught? Don’t bother explaining. It’s all lies and excuses, and I’ve had enough of that.”

The group stared, stunned by her resolve. Hayes, the manager, blinked in shock—this wasn’t the Asaiah he knew, the one who complied, who compromised. Bea sat in silence, knowing an apology wouldn’t fix this. Asaiah’s mind was made up, and she wasn’t turning back.

Two weeks later, the company announced a hiatus for the group. It wasn’t an act of solidarity—it was a desperate move to contain the fallout. Bea, meanwhile, made her rounds in interviews, playing the victim, charming hosts and audiences alike. But the fans weren’t buying it.

“Why does it seem like they’re blaming Asaiah? She’s the one who’s hurt!”

“Bea needs to take accountability. Where’s her apology?”

“Asaiah deserves better. Period.”

The backlash forced the company’s hand, but Asaiah stayed silent.

She spent the hiatus focusing on herself, posting pictures of serene beaches and sunsets on yachts. Fans celebrated her, cheering her on as she quietly thrived.

“Unbothered queen.”

“She’s living her best life, and I love that for her.”

A few wondered about her silence.

“Will she ever talk about what happened?”

“Is she okay?”

But Asaiah wasn’t ready to answer. Not yet.

Two months in, the company approached her for a comeback. The group’s brand was crumbling, and they needed her. Asaiah listened to their pleas and set her terms.

“I’ll come back,” she said, her tone firm, “but here’s how it’ll work: I’ll do my job—sing, dance, perform. I’ll wear the persona of the once-close group for the cameras. But off-camera? I’m done playing nice. Don’t expect anything more from me.”

The executives hesitated but agreed. They had no choice. Lustre’s survival depended on her.

The comeback was set for four months later, and Asaiah threw herself into preparation. But this time, she wasn’t doing it for the group or the company.

Every note, every step, every moment on stage would be hers.

She wasn’t rebuilding bridges.