Chapter 71- Reactions 2

Andy's POV
I woke to an empty bed, the sheets still warm where Nadia had been. Last night had been tender, almost painfully so—both of us aware of the change hovering on the horizon.
From downstairs came the faint sounds of conversation. I lay still for a moment, gathering my thoughts. When Braden had first told me about the London opportunity three days ago, I'd felt a confusing mix of pride and dread. Nadia deserved this chance. So did Braden and Dorian. But the thought of months without them—especially without her—created a hollow feeling in my chest.
I dressed quickly and headed downstairs, catching snatches of conversation from the kitchen. Dorian's voice, animated as always. Nadia's softer responses. Braden's morning grumble.
Instead of joining them, I detoured to the library. The sound of music drew me in—someone had put on the Phantom cast recording. I found Nadia there alone, eyes closed, listening to the overture.
"I remember when you told me this was your favorite," I said quietly.
She opened her eyes. "The first time we properly talked, at that bar with the arcade games."
"You said you used to sing 'Think of Me' in your shower until your roommate complained."
She smiled at the memory. "I can't believe you remember that."
"I remember everything about that night," I said, holding her gaze. The arcade lights reflecting in her eyes. The way she'd bitten her lip when concentrating on the pinball game. The first moment I'd realized I wanted more than just the arrangement we'd initially discussed. "I knew you were special then. I just didn't know how much a part of my life you'd become."
"Andy—" she began, her voice catching.
"No, let me finish," I said, taking her hand. "I want you to know that I meant what I said last night. This is an incredible opportunity, and you should take it. Dorian's right—it doesn't have to be forever, and it doesn't have to change everything."
"But it will change some things," she echoed.
"Yes," I admitted. My schedule at the new performing arts center would be demanding, making last-minute trips to London difficult. FaceTime wasn't the same as holding someone. "But change isn't always bad. Think about how much has changed since you first moved in here. Nothing stays exactly the same."
"I just don't want to lose this," she whispered. "Any of it. Any of you."
I leaned forward, brushing my lips against hers. "You won't. We'll figure it out."
As I said the words, I tried to believe them completely. The sensible part of me knew relationships could survive distance. But another part remembered every technical challenge I'd ever faced in the theater—how even the best-designed systems required constant adjustments, fine-tuning, maintenance. People were no different.
But looking at Nadia's hopeful expression, I couldn't voice these doubts. Instead, I held her close as the music swelled around us, the Phantom's voice filling the room with longing and promise.

Ryan's POV
"More vibrato on the high note," I suggested after Nadia's third run-through of "Think of Me."
The living room had been transformed into a rehearsal space. Braden at the piano, Dorian offering theatrical advice, Andy adjusting lamps to simulate stage lighting. I'd volunteered to be the audience, though my musical knowledge was limited at best.
"You don't even know what vibrato is," Dorian shot back.
"I know what sounds good," I defended. "And that needs more... something."
I caught Andy's eye across the room, both of us sharing a silent moment of understanding. This was our new reality—supporting from the sidelines while the other three prepared for their big break.
The bitter part of me wanted to be angry. It felt like a cosmic joke that the opportunity had perfectly split our arrangement into the "legitimate" theatrical trio and the "working-class" technical duo. But I couldn't maintain that anger watching Nadia's focused expression as she practiced. She deserved this chance. They all did.
"The light is going to hit you differently on a West End stage," Andy was saying. "They use more dramatic side lighting. You might want to practice your expressions with that in mind."
Leave it to Andy to offer practical advice. I smiled despite myself. He was always the problem-solver, while I was the one who broke things down to their most basic elements—sometimes too bluntly.
"And the acoustics will be different," Braden added. "Bigger house means you need to project more."
"But not too much," Dorian cautioned. "British audiences are more reserved. They appreciate subtlety."
"Oh, and you're suddenly an expert on British audiences?" I teased, unable to resist.
"I read a lot," Dorian sniffed, but I caught the small smile he tried to hide.

Nadia's POV
Later, as we prepared for bed, I found myself lingering in the hallway, uncertain which room to choose for the night. Usually, I rotated between my partners, sometimes spending nights alone in my own room when I needed space.
Tonight, though, I felt a strange urgency—as if these moments were suddenly more precious, more finite. I stood frozen in indecision until Ryan emerged from the bathroom, hair damp from the shower.
"You okay?" he asked, noticing my hesitation.
"Just thinking."
He studied my face. "You're overthinking again. I can see those little lines between your eyebrows."
I touched my forehead self-consciously. "I just... I don't want to hurt anyone. By choosing wrong tonight."
Ryan's expression softened. He stepped closer, towering over me as always. "You know what your problem is, Mitchell? You think everything is a statement. Sometimes a choice is just a choice."
"But—"
"No buts," he interrupted. "You're leaving in a week for an audition that might change your life. We all get it. Nobody's keeping score on where you sleep."
The simple wisdom of it made me smile. Ryan had always been good at cutting through my anxieties with straightforward logic.
"Thanks," I said quietly.
He grinned, dropping a kiss on my forehead. "Now, if you're looking for suggestions, I installed a new shower head in my bathroom. Very... versatile."
I laughed, the tension broken. "Is that your best line?"
"Is it working?"
I considered for a moment, then took his hand. "Actually, yes."
As Ryan led me toward his room, I realized something important: whatever happened in London, whatever changes lay ahead, the foundation we'd built together was strong enough to weather it. The details might shift, the geography might change, but the core of what we'd created—this unconventional family of five—would adapt.
For tonight, at least, that knowledge was enough.