"What did I just hear you say?" Demi’s voice was sharp, her measured steps backward taking her to the edge of the room. Her eyes narrowed. "You want to stop writing? Are you out of your mind? Do you have any idea about the deals that have come in, even in the past few minutes? Do you know where we’re projected to be by the end of this year? And you want to stop now? You want to quit?"

"I didn't say I was quitting." Jack stood slowly, though his resolve wavered in the face of her desperation. "I just thought I could take a break, see if I could... you know... write something different. Something less... narrow?"

"'Rest'? Rest from what? And what’s the difference between that and quitting?" She let out a bitter, hollow laugh, eyes filling with unshed tears as his family joined in with nervous giggles. "He wants to rest." She pointed at him, and the laughter continued, awkward and forced.

Jack felt a wave of regret crashing over him. He cursed himself for voicing thoughts that weren’t fully formed, for daring to dream of something more without knowing how to defend it. How could he expect them to understand when he wasn’t even sure himself?

"I'm sorry," he muttered, lowering his head. The words were more for him than for them, but they accepted it nonetheless.

"It’s not just what you said," Demi pressed, her tone icy now. "It's that you’re even thinking about it. A break to write something else? You want to throw everything away and make the biggest mistake of your life?"

Jack’s insides twisted. Maybe she was right. Maybe this desire for more, for something different, was wrong. Selfish. Reckless.

"Your friend is right," his mother chimed in, her voice tinged with disapproval. "You can’t afford to be reckless. There's too much at stake."

Jack clenched his jaw. "Like what?" The words slipped out before he could stop them, his eyes hardening as he spoke.

"You're serious about this," Demi said, her mouth agape in disbelief.

"No, I—" Jack shook his head, trying to pull himself back from the brink. "No, I'm not serious."

"You can’t stop being famous, Jack," Janet said, her tone bright and chirpy, as if this were all just a joke. "It wouldn’t be good for any of us."

"The shame..." Claire added with a sharp breath. "People would talk about us for months. We have to keep living up to expectations. We don’t have a choice."

Jack felt a knot tightening in his chest. "What if I'm not happy?" The question tumbled out, his voice quieter now. "What if what I write isn’t all it could be? What if I’m choking the life out of myself doing this?"

The room went silent, their eyes fixed on him like he was mad. The weight of their stares pressed down on him, making him feel small, foolish. Their disapproval was like a wall closing in, suffocating him. Maybe they were right. Maybe this desire for something more was selfish, irresponsible. Maybe he should just accept the life they expected him to lead.

For a fleeting moment, doubt settled in Jack’s chest like a heavy stone. The familiar weight of responsibility tugged at him, the unspoken demands of his family and Demi pressing in from all sides. He could feel their expectations wrapping around him like chains, cold and tightening. Maybe they were right—maybe wanting more was selfish. The guilt gnawed at him, whispering that he owed them everything. They depended on him, after all. His success had built this life, and without it, what would be left? Maybe this suffocating existence was his duty to bear.

The silence was unbearable, and Jack opened his mouth to apologize again, to take back everything he had said. But before he could, the doorbell rang.

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Everyone looked toward the front door, relieved by the interruption that cut through the tension.

"Get it, please," his father said to Janet.

Janet begrudgingly stood and walked away.

Jack kept his eyes in Demi’s direction, feeling her gaze still burning holes into him.

She cleared her throat. "We all understand that being a celebrity can be hard, Jack." He turned to see her eyes holding something like compassion for him. "You knew that. You signed up for this life." She looked at him meaningfully as though she knew everything he never told her. "You have to live it. It’s the price of fame."

Jack was exhausted. He couldn't continue to live like that anymore. His mental voice was swallowed by the reappearance of Janet with—to his joy—his niece, Julia. He broke into a smile as the little girl ran into his open arms.

"Uncle Jack!" She barreled into him, her seven-year-old frame surprisingly strong, and he caught her in a warm embrace. The instant flood of warmth in his chest was a welcome relief—so much better, so much healthier than the simmering heat of resentment that always lingered inside him.

"Julia, I've missed you," he said from the depths of his heart. Her bright presence brought a flood of light to his mind, almost erasing darkness.

From behind Julia, her mother, Vivian, laughed. "Julia, you’re not the only one who’s missed your uncle. I didn’t even know he was in town, or I would’ve brought a list of things I want for my birthday." Jack glanced up at his sister-in-law’s heavily made-up face as she added, "You have to get me that new Hermes bag, Jack. The one I have is out of style now."

"How’s your husband?" Jack asked, steering the conversation away. "Is he back from his trip?"

"Didn't you say he should stay a month at your expense? Hasn’t it only been two weeks now?" she asked with obvious resentment. "He needed a week to do the business deals he went to sort out and so he has three entire weeks to himself. What do you think he will be doing in those three weeks, huh?"

The total switch into that line of discussion made him almost pity her.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I should have paid for you to go too."

"Exactly!" There was a bit of forgiveness in her eyes, not too much, because he had not made good on his promise yet. "You don't separate a man from his wife while doing good deeds. You make your generosity complete."

The corners of his mouth trembled, but he restrained himself. He didn't want to say things he would later regret.

"Send me your cash app," he told her, returning his gaze to Julia's. "Let me make it up to you in the little way that I can."

"Really?" Her glee was unmistakable. "Thanks!"

He nodded without looking at Vivian.

"Are you okay, Uncle?" Julia said out of the blue, both her palms on his face, holding him.

The question was so thoughtful, so intricate, that he almost wanted to fall down weeping, confessing all his troubles to the child.

"No...no one has asked me that in a long, long time, Julia," he admitted.

Her wide, innocent eyes widened further as she took in his words. "Really?" she asked, her voice filled with wonder and concern.

He nodded, focusing on those eyes.

"But it’s on your face, Uncle. I can see that something is wrong."

He faltered, unsure of how to respond to such thoughtfulness from someone so young. It was a foreign concept to him, and he found himself at a loss for words. How could he explain all that was on his mind to this sweet child? In the end, he simply shook his head and remained silent.

"Julia," her mom called, "won't you ask your uncle for some chocolates?"

"No!" Julia turned to her mother with so much vehemence before looking back at Jack with love. "No. Uncle Jack is not fine."

He gently removed her small hands from his face and clasped them in his own, smiling reassuringly. "I appreciate your concern, Julia. But don't worry about me, I'll be fine. And if there's anything you need or want, just ask. Anything at all..."

She shook her head. "It’s okay, Uncle Jack. Let’s go make crowns from the flowers in the garden together!" She yelped the last few words as she leaped back enthusiastically, ripping her hands from his before returning the grip to lead him away from the table.

Jack felt the tears welling up in his eyes, but he didn't know they were there until his vision was blurred.

His grip tightened on her small, warm hand as he fought back the tears. He had to be strong for her sake.