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*
How did this happen?
She remembers screaming, crying, throwing anything, everything she could get her hands on.
It wasn’t supposed to end this way. Not like this. Not now. Not when everything was going so well.
When they started the band together in Geralt’s garage, making shit quality videos for a scant few likes on YouTube, they were happy. Weren’t they happy? Weren’t they, she asks herself. It’d been just them and their instruments, playing for hours, just jamming, getting lost in the music. And later, when Jaskier and Eskel left for the night, losing themselves in each other.
Was it love? She isn’t sure. But it was sweet sometimes, innocent.
It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.
She remembers finding out through a gossip column. Taking the paper, flinging it onto the hotel table in front of him, demanding to know whether or not it was true.
Are you a father?
Paying child support quietly for nearly a year, when she’s been with him for just over five.
Fuck you, she was screaming, ignoring any attempt at explanation beyond his reluctant yes. Hitting him, struggling when he held her wrists, not fighting back, but not letting go. Remembers their manager, Tissaia, storming in, finally managing to pry Yennefer away from Geralt, the way she sternly told him to just go. The way she held her as Yennefer sobbed into the woman’s shoulder.
What do I do now?
They’d been in the middle of recording their second studio album. Prepping for another nationwide tour in a few months. But now — now she didn’t think she could do it. No matter what he’d say, nothing he could do would be able to heal this betrayal, this gaping wound.
When you get hurt, does it make you weak?
So much indecision. Not knowing what to do. Did she have to decide now? Her mind was reeling, reevaluating every song, every touch, everything he’d ever said. Things that start to make sense. Fights and tension that had seemed to come out of nowhere, that she’d been blaming on herself. God, it was too much. But Tissaia was there. Anchoring her, refusing to let her drown.
And no, no she didn’t, didn’t have to decide right then, in fact she probably shouldn’t decide right then. What she needed was to take a breath, step back. Everything else could wait. They could put everything on hold for a few days. Tissaia would take care of it, would be there for her, no matter what she decided to do.
And no. Getting hurt doesn’t mean you’re weak.
*
She decided to leave.
Now, as she stands in the airport with Tissaia, suitcase packed and heart empty, she’s walking away from the life she’s known and into unfamiliar territory. She’s leaving behind lyrics, contracts and promises. She’s leaving a man she’d thought she’d loved but now isn’t sure, leaving a wildly successful band she’s been with since day one.
But she’s not afraid, not of this. She’s hurting like hell still, there’s a great yawning cavern in her chest that still aches, but Tissaia’s hand is at her back, urging her forward now, reminding her that she’s there.
Everything is uncertain. She doesn’t even know where to begin.
None of this is going to be easy. Not the heartbreak, not the next steps, not the healing. There’s no easy way to get through this. They say there’s always a bright side. She can’t see it.
But she’s not going to be alone in the dark.
*