Erased: My Music, My Legacy

Erased: My Music, My Legacy

Kinship

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I watched the screen, my knuckles white, as two viral videos ripped my world apart. One was old, grainy, showing a younger me, working two jobs, sharing cheap pizza with Lucas, eyes full of hope for his music, our future. "We're gonna make it, Lucas," I'd whispered, believing every word. The second video was slick, from last night's awards, Lucas on stage, award in hand. "This is for you, Sophie," he declared, beaming at the pop starlet who sat in the front row. "With you, Sophie, I finally see clearly, no longer mistaking shadows for the sun." Shadows for the sun. That was me. The internet comments were a dumpster fire: "Lucas finally upgraded!", "Good riddance to that clingy ex!" My chest tightened. This wasn't just a breakup; it was a public execution of my past, my love, my countless hours pouring the legacy of Mateo-my deceased love, our songs-into Lucas. He was the man I' d spent years building up, only for him to erase me. A fraudulent document surfaced, a backdated "songwriting assignment" giving Sophie credit for our song. Even my own Aunt Maria went on record, calling me an opportunist. The world saw me as a villain, a user, a bitter ex. The truth? No one knew about Mateo, his raw talent, his tragic death, or how I' d desperately tried to keep his dream alive through his twin brother. No one knew the songs were always his and mine. I was drowning in an avalanche of lies. Then, an unexpected email landed in my inbox: "Ava, I saw the news. It' s BS. All of it." It was from Jay. He had Mateo's footage. And he was making a documentary. My whole story was about to change.

Introduction

I watched the screen, my knuckles white, as two viral videos ripped my world apart.

One was old, grainy, showing a younger me, working two jobs, sharing cheap pizza with Lucas, eyes full of hope for his music, our future.

"We're gonna make it, Lucas," I'd whispered, believing every word.

The second video was slick, from last night's awards, Lucas on stage, award in hand.

"This is for you, Sophie," he declared, beaming at the pop starlet who sat in the front row.

"With you, Sophie, I finally see clearly, no longer mistaking shadows for the sun."

Shadows for the sun.

That was me.

The internet comments were a dumpster fire: "Lucas finally upgraded!", "Good riddance to that clingy ex!"

My chest tightened.

This wasn't just a breakup; it was a public execution of my past, my love, my countless hours pouring the legacy of Mateo-my deceased love, our songs-into Lucas.

He was the man I' d spent years building up, only for him to erase me.

A fraudulent document surfaced, a backdated "songwriting assignment" giving Sophie credit for our song.

Even my own Aunt Maria went on record, calling me an opportunist.

The world saw me as a villain, a user, a bitter ex.

The truth?

No one knew about Mateo, his raw talent, his tragic death, or how I' d desperately tried to keep his dream alive through his twin brother.

No one knew the songs were always his and mine.

I was drowning in an avalanche of lies.

Then, an unexpected email landed in my inbox: "Ava, I saw the news. It' s BS. All of it."

It was from Jay. He had Mateo's footage. And he was making a documentary.

My whole story was about to change.

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