The decision to let go of the past wasn't the hard part—living with it was. Over the next few days, Jason found himself in a strange place emotionally. He had signed away the rights to the songs, officially severing his last ties to Lily's career, but it wasn't the immediate relief he had hoped for. It felt more like walking away from a burning building—he was safe, but still coughing from the smoke.
That morning, Jason sat in his studio, staring at his guitar. His mind wandered to the finality of everything. The break was complete, yet so much still felt unresolved. He hadn't heard from Lily since the meeting, and the industry remained quiet, no offers or calls to rope him back into its machinery. Part of him felt relieved, but another part felt stranded, unsure of where to go next.
He picked up his guitar and started plucking a few strings absentmindedly. The melody didn't come as easily as it used to, and his fingers fumbled on the frets. He hadn't felt this rusty in years.
Just as he was about to put the guitar down, his phone buzzed. It was Max.
Max: "Stop brooding and come to the studio. I've got something to show you."
Jason sighed, his fingers hovering over the keyboard to decline. He wasn't in the mood to be around anyone. But Max had been persistent, and part of Jason knew he couldn't keep sitting in the same four walls, letting the silence stretch on forever.
Jason: "On my way."
Jason arrived at Max's recording studio an hour later. The building was nothing like the sleek corporate spaces Jason had grown used to working in. It was more gritty, full of indie artists, a mix of new talent trying to find their sound and seasoned musicians looking to break free from the industry's commercial constraints. The place was alive with creativity in a way that felt strangely refreshing.
"Yo, over here!" Max called out, waving from behind the glass panel in the sound booth.
Jason nodded and walked in, the soft buzz of various instruments and conversations in the background. Inside the booth, Max had a setup ready—a microphone, a mixing board, and a few pieces of equipment that Jason hadn't seen since their college days.
"Alright, man, spill. What's this about?" Jason asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Max grinned, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "I've been thinking a lot about what you said. Going independent. Starting over. And I figured, why not do something different? You and me, back to where it all started—just pure music, no pressure."
Jason raised an eyebrow. "You want to start a band again?"
"No," Max laughed, shaking his head. "What I'm talking about is collaboration, man. The real kind. I've been working with some up-and-coming artists. Real talents, but they don't have the industry backing yet. I thought... maybe you could help. Not for them, but for you. To find your sound again."
Jason frowned, unsure of where Max was going with this. "Max, I'm barely keeping it together. I don't know if I'm ready to—"
"Just listen," Max cut in. "I'm not asking you to save anyone. I'm saying, use this as a way to get your spark back. These guys, they don't care about fame. They just want to make music. Raw, authentic music. And I think you could use a little bit of that energy right now."
Jason thought about it for a moment. His hesitation wasn't just fear—it was about trust. Could he trust himself to create again? Could he trust the process after everything had fallen apart? He looked around the booth, feeling the quiet hum of potential in the room.
"Alright," Jason finally said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll give it a shot. But no promises."
Max smiled, clapping him on the back. "That's all I needed to hear. Trust me, you're going to love this."
The next day, Jason arrived back at the studio for the first session. He wasn't quite sure what to expect—Max had been cryptic about who they would be working with, and Jason hadn't wanted to press for details. He figured it would be better to go in with an open mind, to see if anything resonated with him.
When he walked into the studio, two young musicians were already there, tuning their instruments. One was a girl in her early twenties, with long braids and a quiet intensity in her eyes. She had an acoustic guitar slung over her shoulder and was humming softly to herself. The other was a guy, not much older, sitting behind a drum kit, tapping out a slow, steady beat.
"Jason, this is Kendra and Elijah," Max introduced. "They've been working on a few tracks together, but they're still finding their sound. I thought you could help with that."
Jason gave them both a nod, still feeling slightly out of place. He wasn't used to working with people so young, so raw in their craft. He was more familiar with polished artists, people who already knew exactly what they wanted. But there was something refreshing about the uncertainty in the air.
"We don't have to dive into anything heavy right away," Jason said, picking up a spare guitar. "Let's just see what happens."
Kendra smiled nervously, her fingers strumming the first chords of a song she'd been working on. The melody was soft, almost hesitant, but Jason could hear the potential buried beneath it. He started playing along, improvising over her chords, adding depth and layers to the music. Elijah joined in with a simple drum beat, keeping the rhythm steady.
The song started to take shape—slowly at first, but then with more confidence. Jason could feel the energy in the room shift, the way the music flowed between them. For the first time in months, he wasn't thinking about the past. He wasn't thinking about Lily or the industry or everything he had lost. He was just playing, letting the music speak for itself.
By the time they finished, the room was buzzing with excitement.
"That was... incredible," Kendra said softly, her eyes wide. "I've never heard my song sound like that."
Jason smiled, the rush of creation filling his veins. "It was all you. I just helped bring it out."
Elijah tapped his drumsticks together, grinning. "Man, we need to do this more often."
Max leaned back in his chair, a satisfied look on his face. "Told you it'd be good for you."
Jason wiped the sweat from his brow, still feeling the high from the session. It wasn't about fame or success. It wasn't about proving anything to anyone. It was about the music, plain and simple. And for the first time in a long time, that was enough.
That night, Jason sat in his apartment, his mind racing with ideas. The session had sparked something in him—a desire to not just create, but to build something new, something that wasn't tied to the commercial constraints of the industry. Maybe Max was right. Maybe this was the way forward.
He grabbed his notebook and started sketching out a rough plan. An independent label, focused on real music, the kind that wasn't about chart-topping hits but about meaning and emotion. He wanted to give artists like Kendra and Elijah a platform, a place where they could find their sound without the pressure of becoming the next big thing.
It wouldn't be easy. There were financial risks, logistical challenges, and a lot of unknowns. But Jason felt something he hadn't felt in a long time—hope.
The next day, he called Max.
"Hey," Jason said, his voice steady. "I'm in. Let's do this."
Over the next few weeks, Jason and Max worked tirelessly to set things in motion. They rented out studio time, met with local artists, and started building the foundations of the label. Jason found himself getting lost in the work, in the creative process. It was exhausting, but it was the kind of exhaustion that came with purpose.
One evening, after a particularly long day in the studio, Jason sat down with Max in the control room. They had just finished recording a new track with Kendra, and the sound was playing softly in the background.
"You did good today," Max said, breaking the silence.
Jason nodded, still listening to the music. "Feels good to be back in it. Feels real."
Max smiled. "That's because it is. This is the start of something, Jason. I can feel it."
Jason leaned back, letting the music wash over him. For the first time in months, he felt at peace. It wasn't about the industry anymore. It wasn't about fame or proving anything. It was just about the music.
And that was enough.