The next step after an award-winning album was, naturally, the tour—a massive, sprawling global venture that would see Cat performing at over sixty shows across several continents in the span of a few intense months. The scale of it all was staggering, even for her. For weeks, her days had been a blur of rehearsals, vocal training, choreography tweaks, and endless meetings.

Behind-the-scenes clips flooded her social media accounts, showing snippets of her practicing routines, belting out high notes, and collapsing on the floor in laughter with her crew. Her fans lapped it up, building excitement for the opening night.

Cat had even made their lounge her unofficial rehearsal space, endlessly running through songs and dance moves with Jade as her occasional audience. Jade swore she could now recite the entire show in her sleep.

Now, though, the tour was only days away, and Cat was equal parts exhilarated and terrified. The logistics alone were overwhelming—wardrobe fittings, travel schedules, venue walkthroughs. Cat threw herself into every detail, trying to keep the nerves at bay.

Jade, meanwhile, was trying to find a balance between her own commitments and supporting Cat. She had managed to convince her professors to let her take a few weeks off college under the strict agreement that she'd stay on top of her work remotely. It was a win she hadn't expected, and she'd jumped at the chance to join Cat for most of the North American leg of the tour.

She sat now on their couch, laptop open and a half-finished essay staring back at her, but her attention had wandered. Her phone lay on the cushion beside her, and despite herself, she kept picking it up.

Jade rarely looked Cat up online. It wasn't something she liked to do—it felt invasive, a window into a version of Cat that didn't belong to her, the public figure rather than the person she knew. But today, she couldn't help it.

She scrolled through articles, videos, and fan posts, taking in the buzz surrounding Cat's upcoming tour. There were glowing predictions of how groundbreaking it would be, paparazzi shots of Cat leaving rehearsals, and trending hashtags about the opening night. It was surreal, even now, to see Cat's name everywhere. The online world painted Cat as unstoppable, endlessly energetic, a force of nature. And she was, in so many ways. But Jade also saw the cracks—the exhaustion that crept in when Cat thought no one was looking, the moments where she'd press her face into Jade's shoulder and just breathe, overwhelmed but unwilling to show it.

Jade stared at one standout article on her phone, her grip tightening around the device as she took in the blurry photo. It was clearly Cat—her bright red hair and unmistakable laugh giving her away instantly. She was leaning close to some guy, his arm slung casually over her shoulder. The headline screamed, "Caterina Sparks Romance Rumours with Big Shay!"

Jade groaned, the words alone making her stomach churn. The internet loved speculating about Cat's love life, and lately, the noise had only gotten louder. A girl who wore her heart on her sleeve, but no real proof of who that heart was for. It wasn't just one photo or one rumour—there were whole TheSlap threads, fan theories, and clickbait articles dissecting every interaction Cat had with anyone.

This one, though, felt particularly obnoxious.

"Big Shay?" Jade muttered under her breath, glaring at the screen. She perticually disliked that guy. Nothing against him really, he seemed nice enough, it was just she couldn't look past him being called Big Shay when she was literally the same height as him. And one of the many things Jade disliked in life, people pretending they were something they weren't.

She zoomed in on the photo. The article was written around it as if they were kissing—Cat's head was tilted toward him, but her expression was mid-laugh, and his face was turned away from the camera. The angle made it ambiguous, and of course, that was all the tabloids needed to run wild with it.

Jade tossed her phone onto the couch beside her, rubbing her temples. It wasn't jealousy—at least, that's what she told herself. She trusted Cat completely. But it sucked, seeing someone else plastered next to Cat in a way that looked intimate, reading comments speculating about how 'perfect' they'd be together.

And worse, knowing she couldn't do anything about it.

She wanted to scream from the rooftops, to post a picture of them kissing with a caption that said, "Sorry, Big Shay, but she's mine." To shut down every rumour with undeniable proof. But she couldn't.

It wasn't that Cat had asked her to hide their relationship—not directly. They didn't talk about it much, but Jade understood the unspoken agreement. Cat's label had made it clear—her allure, her broad appeal, relied on being seen as available, as desirable. To millions of fans, she was the girl-next-door with an open heart and no strings attached. But that wasn't all. The real issue was uglier, more insidious.

Also, not everyone would be okay with Cat being openly gay, especially not on this scale. Some fans would leave; others would lash out. There would be backlash, boycotts, hateful headlines. And worse—there were people out there who might even try to hurt Cat, physically or emotionally, just for daring to exist openly as herself.

Jade hated it. She hated every second of it.

It wasn't fair that they had to hide. That she had to sit quietly while strangers dissected Cat's personal life. That she couldn't be the one holding Cat's hand at events or standing proudly beside her in photos.

She picked up her phone again, opening the article one more time, her thumb hovering over the screen as her jaw clenched. She wanted to text Cat, to show her the picture and say, "Look at this garbage. How are you not losing your mind over it?"

But she didn't.

Instead, she clicked off the article and set the phone back down, sinking into the couch with a frustrated sigh.

This was just how it had to be. For now. But god, it was hard.