SuperStar

While Ethan was contemplating which song to release next, his phone pinged unexpectedly. It caught him off guard since he had turned off notifications. He picked it up to find an email from Bill Miller with the subject line: Contract. He paused for a moment, staring at the screen.

"I'll make my final decision after releasing my second song," Ethan muttered to himself, determination etched on his face.

The doubt and negativity swirling around him online were eating at him, but he resolved to prove the haters wrong. He wasn't going to be a one-hit wonder, and he had the perfect song to silence them. He just needed some help. Rising from his desk, Ethan headed to the one place he avoided the most in the house.

He knocked for the third time. "Precious, can you please open up?" he asked, his voice tinged with impatience.

A groan came from the other side before the door creaked open. His younger sister stood there, staring at him with annoyance. "What?" she asked sharply.

"I need your help. Can I come in, please?" Ethan asked, trying to sound earnest.

Precious looked him up and down as if assessing whether to let him in, then finally sighed and stepped aside. "Fine. But make it quick."

Ethan walked in, glancing around the room. It had been a while since he'd been in here, and the vibrant clutter of posters, makeup, and clothes felt foreign to him.

"What do you want?" Precious asked, crossing her arms, already sounding impatient.

"I need your help recording my next song," Ethan replied.

"Another one already? That was fast," Precious remarked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I already have it ready. I just need your help with the camera work," Ethan explained.

"My help? Why don't you just do it the same way you did last time?" she shot back.

"This song's different. I'll be moving around a lot, so I need someone to handle the camera," Ethan replied. He hesitated for a second before adding, "Please, Precious. Just this once."

Precious tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Fine—but on one condition."

"What condition?" Ethan asked warily.

"I want a shoutout on all your social media. Post a picture of us and tag me," she said, her grin widening at the thought of the potential followers she'd gain.

Ethan frowned, clearly hesitant. "I don't know about that."

"Oh, come on! You'll barely have to do anything. Just a picture and a tag," she pressed.

"Okay, fine," Ethan relented, rolling his eyes. "Let's just get this done. We'll record in the backyard."

"Great! Let me grab my phone," Precious chirped, following him out the door.

Downstairs, Ethan had already set everything up in the backyard. He was lugging his guitar, the tripod, and other equipment into place when he shot Precious an irritated glance.

"You know, you could've helped carry some of this," he muttered.

"You said you needed me to shoot the video, not haul gear," she replied nonchalantly, leaning against the patio railing.

Ethan let out a resigned sigh, adjusting the camera. "Let's just get this over with."

Picking up his guitar, he positioned himself in front of the camera. "Start recording," he instructed.

"Won't you do a practice run first or something?" Precious asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not needed," Ethan said confidently. He knew the song inside and out.

The video began rolling, and Ethan flashed a charming smile at the camera, the golden sunlight catching his features perfectly. "Hello, everyone. This is Ethan Jones. Thank you so much for all the love and support on Shape of You."

His voice was warm and genuine, and he strummed the opening chords of his new song. "Today, I'm excited to share my latest song with you. It's called Sing. I hope you like it."

An hour later, Ethan was back in his room, sitting at his desk. He was carefully editing the video, adding beats to ensure it was perfect. His focus was intense, his fingers flying over the keyboard, when the door to his room suddenly swung open.

"Coming in!" Precious announced, barging in without so much as a knock.

Ethan groaned, glancing up from his laptop. I really need to start locking my door, he thought as he watched her flop onto his bed like she owned the place.

"What do you want, Precious?" he asked, his tone exasperated.

"I checked your page, and you haven't posted the song yet. What's taking so long?" she asked, propping herself up on her elbows.

"I'm working on it," Ethan replied, turning his attention back to the laptop.

"Well, hurry up! That song was fire. I hate to admit it, but you're really talented," she said with a teasing grin.

Ethan paused, glancing at her suspiciously.

Precious sighed. "Okay, what's up with you? You've been in a weird mood all day."

He took a deep breath. "I just... I want it to be perfect."

"It is perfect—just like Shape of You."

"If it's so perfect, then why does it have so many bad reviews?" Ethan shot back, finally voicing the insecurity that had been gnawing at him.

"Wait, this is about some haters? You're seriously letting a few trolls get to you?" she asked, genuinely shocked.

Ethan grabbed his phone and pulled up a comment section, shoving it toward her. "Look at this guy BrydenRivers: 'Bro should give it a rest. Song's dry.'"

Precious burst out laughing, making Ethan frown.

"What's so funny?" he demanded.

"Ethan, you're letting some random internet troll—who probably works the night shift at McDonald's and lives in his mom's basement—get to you?" she said, still chuckling.

Ethan just stared at her, unamused.

"Come on, look at the bigger picture. Look at all the good reviews. Look at how many views and likes you have! Stop focusing on the negativity," she said firmly. "Trust me, the song's amazing. Now, post it already. I can't wait to see the numbers it does!"

Ethan stared at his sister for a moment before cracking a small smile. "Okay, okay. I'm posting it."

As he hit the post button, his heart raced. I'm going to show them. I'm going to be a superstar.