Helena

Michael had tried to explain to you more than once that it had nothing to do with shame. He wanted to protect you from the tabloids, the photographers and the endless attention. He wanted your love to remain yours.

But no matter how good his intentions were, it didn't make your insecurities any smaller.

In the end, you decided to separate.

Not with shouting. Not with reproaches.

Only with tears, a long hug and the painful promise that you would never hate each other.

Because no matter how hard it was to admit ... You still loved each other.

But sometimes love alone isn't enough.

The months after your breakup had not been easy for anyone.

While you were trying to pick up your life again, Michael was already on his way for a new tour. Together with his brothers, he crisscrossed the United States for the Triumph Tour. Arena after arena filled with thousands of fans who wanted to see the Jacksons perform.

Every night the same deafening screams sounded as soon as the lights went out, followed by a setlist full of classics to which the audience sang along word for word.

For Michael, the stage had always been like a second home.

But since you were no longer part of his life, even that didn't feel the same anymore.

Tonight was the last show of the tour.

Inglewood, California.

A sold-out arena.

The perfect ending.

For you it felt strange to attend another Michael concert.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" Your best friend Lily asked as you slowly walked towards the entrance, surrounded by hundreds of enthusiastic fans with tour shirts, posters and cameras.

You smiled weakly. "Yeah."

"Even when you see him up close?"

You took a deep breath. "I'm not just his ex, Lily." You looked at the huge poster depicting Michael and his brothers. "I'm a fan too."

That had always been true.

Even before you fell in love with each other, you admired his talent. His passion. The way he completely lost himself in his music.

That hadn't changed after the breakup.

"I just want to see how great he's doing." You said softly.

Lily squeezed your arm encouragingly. "Then we'll enjoy the show."

As you walked into the arena, you didn't become aware of the familiar eyes that were following you.

Randy Jackson.

He was talking to a member of the crew a few meters away when he suddenly recognized you. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "... y/n?" He watched you as you disappeared among the crowd with Lily.

Less than two minutes later, he hurriedly walked towards the dressing rooms.

Michael sat in front of the mirror while a make-up artist quickly touched up some make-up. His glitter jacket was already hanging over his shoulders and from the arena sounded the murmur of thousands of people who were impatiently waiting for the show to start.

He was quiet, much quieter than usual.

"Mike." Michael looked up when Randy came in. "I saw her."

His heart skipped a beat. "... Who?"

Randy smiled cautiously. "y/n." For a moment, the whole room seemed to fall silent. "She's here."

Michael blinked incredulously. "... Here?"

Randy nodded. "Just at the entrance. I think she's with her friend."

For a moment, Michael didn't know what to say. You had come, not because you had to, not because someone had asked you. But because you had chosen it yourself.

Slowly, a small smile appeared on his face. "That's..." He looked at the ground. "... good."

Randy knew his brother well enough to see that there was much more to that one word. "You still miss her."

Michael didn't answer right away, he sighed softly. "Every day."

He had tried to convince himself that he had to move on. That this had been the right decision. That you would be happier without all the chaos that his life entailed.

But not a single day had gone by without thinking of you. He missed how you got him to laugh, how you were always the first to realize when he was tired, how safe he felt when he was just allowed to be Michael.

Not the pop star.

Not the celebrity.

Just Michael.

"Have you ever considered calling her?" Randy asked.

Michael shook his head slowly. "She deserves someone who doesn't have to hide her all the time."

Those words made Randy frown. "That was never because you were ashamed of her."

"I know." Michael smiled sadly. "But maybe it felt that way to her." He had seen your pain.

Every time a female fan hugged him, when magazines photoshopped him on the arm of other women. When interviewers asked if he was in love and he changed the subject with an awkward smile.

He had thought he was protecting you. It was only when he lost you that he realized how much loneliness that secret had caused you.

A crew member stuck his head around the door. "Five minutes."

Michael nodded, his stomach turned. Not because of the show, but because of you.

The lights in the arena went out, a deafening screams filled the room.

You automatically looked at the stage while the first notes of the opening echoed through the speakers. "Here we go." Lily laughed.

Moments later, the Jackson brothers appeared under an explosion of light. The audience went completely crazy. And there he was. Michael.

Just as pretty as you remembered him. His smile, his curls, his energy.

You felt your heart get a little sting. He looked happy. At least... That's what you tried to tell yourself.

From the first minute, he gave everything. He danced as if his life depended on it, he sang with the same passion as always, he made the whole arena clap and sing along.

No one would notice that something else was going through his head in the meantime. But Michael noticed it himself, during almost every song his eyes wandered.

From one side of the arena... to the other. Over and over again.

He didn't know exactly where you were. Only that you had to be somewhere among all those thousands of faces.

Maybe left, maybe right, maybe at the very top.

After each applause he let his gaze glide over the audience again, for a moment he kept hoping that he would recognize your face. That your eyes would meet, that he would know for one second that you were still looking at him as before.

Not as a superstar, but as Michael.

Meanwhile, Lily noticed it too. She gently bumped against your shoulder. "Is it my imagination..." She looked at the stage again. “... Or is he constantly looking into the audience?"

You followed Michael's gaze as he slowly scanned the stands again, you smiled cautiously. "He probably just enjoys his last show."

But deep down you wondered why his eyes seemed to be searching all the time. As if he hoped to find someone he had lost far too long ago.

The show was now halfway through.

One applause followed another and the energy in the arena only seemed to increase. Yet Michael felt himself turning further and further inwards.

He had finally found you. Halfway up the stands, next to Lily.

Ever since his eyes had met yours, it was as if the rest of the arena had disappeared. Now he knew exactly where you were. And every time he got the chance, his eyes wandered your way again.

In the meantime, you tried not to look at him too much, you couldn't. Every time you looked up, he seemed to be looking at you first.

You didn't know if it was a coincidence, or if you were deluding yourself.

The lights dimmed slowly. A soft piano filled the arena. Even before Michael sang the first words, you felt your heart beating in your throat.

She's Out of My Life.

Of all the songs, this song of all things. Michael closed his eyes for a moment before he started singing.

"She's out of my life..."

His voice sounded softer than the rest of the evening, more fragile. As if every word took effort.

You felt goosebumps running down your arms, because even though thousands of people listened breathlessly... You felt like he was only singing to you.

His gaze found yours again, he didn't look away.

"She's out of my hands..."

His voice broke for a moment, a wave of emotions flooded him. The memories of you together; Your first date, the nights when you talked for hours without looking at the clock, the way you always laughed softly when he got shy.

And the day he let you go, because he thought it was the best thing.

He felt the familiar lump growing in his throat. The audience heard his voice begin to tremble.

And then it happened again, just like so often during this song. Michael barely got to sing the last words of the chorus.

A tear slowly slipped down his cheek, the arena became very quiet.

You felt how your eyes also filled with tears. You knew him, you knew he didn't cry because it was part of the performance. He cried because he could no longer hide his feelings.

During a short instrumental part, Michael suddenly turned around, he beckoned one of the security guards to him. The man leaned over to him while Michael whispered something in his ear almost inaudibly.

Then he pointed in your direction for a moment. "The girl in the blue shirt." The security guard nodded immediately.

Even before you realized what was happening, a large man appeared next to your chair. "Excuse me, miss."

You looked up in surprise.

"Mr. Jackson would like you to come with me."

You blinked a few times. "... Sorry?"

"Please."

Even Lily looked at you with wide eyes. "I think he means you..."

Your heart was pounding in your chest. "But... Why?"

The security guard smiled politely. "I think he'll explain."

You stood up with slightly trembling legs. Thousands of curious looks followed you as you walked behind the security guard through a narrow passage.

You felt like you were dreaming, or maybe like you were going to wake up at any moment. A crew member pulled open the curtain on the side of the stage. "Go ahead."

You swallowed and carefully took a step onto the stage.

A loud murmur went through the arena, Michael slowly turned to you.

For the first time in months, you were back on opposite sides.

Up close, his eyes were red. His cheeks still wet with tears.

When you looked at him, a small, fragile smile appeared on his face.

He slowly reached out his hand to you. After a short hesitation, you put yours in, his fingers gently closing around yours. As if he was afraid that you would disappear again.

The music continued. Michael never stopped singing, but now he only sang to you. Not to the cameras, not to the thousands of fans. Only to you.

Every sentence felt like a confession, every look told you everything he had swallowed for months.

You could feel the tears rolling down your own cheeks. You had missed him, more than you had ever dared to admit to yourself.

When the last note faded away, it remained dead silent for a few seconds. Then the arena erupted in deafening applause.

However, Michael didn't let go of your hand. He looked at the ground for a moment, took a deep breath and spoke into the microphone. "There's... there's something I need to say."

The audience immediately went silent, he looked at you again. His voice was still shaking. "Some people think that song is just another love song." He smiled sadly. "It isn't."

He squeezed your hand gently. "It's about losing someone you never wanted to lose." You felt your breath catch, Michael took a small step closer. "I loved you then..." He swallowed. "And I still love you now."

An audible wave of amazement went through the arena, he didn't seem to care. "I thought keeping us private would protect you." His eyes filled with tears again. "But all I did... was make you feel invisible."

You bit your lip. He understood, at last he understood.

"I'm so sorry." He fell silent for a moment. "If there's any part of you that still believes in us..." His voice broke again. "... I'd spend every single day proving that I can do better."

You felt thousands of eyes on you, your heart pounding so hard that you could hardly think.

You wanted to say something, but not a single word passed your lips. Michael immediately saw how overwhelmed you were. His gaze softened, he smiled cautiously.

"It's okay." He squeezed your hand gently one more time before slowly releasing it. "You don't have to answer now." He looked at you warmly. "When the show's over..." He pointed to the wings for a moment. "I'll be backstage."

A small silence followed. "I'll wait for you." He didn't say more.

He gave you a soft, hopeful smile, and for the first time that evening, the applause of thousands of people didn't feel like noise...

But as background music for a decision that only the two of you could ever make.

"I just don't understand why it has to be Prince." Michael said as he walked through the living room of Neverland. "Because MTV asked him." You answered for the hundredth time.

"They could have chosen someone else."

You sighed in frustration. "Michael, it's a duet. Artists do that all the time."

He turned to you. "With him?"

"Yeah, with him."

His jaw tightened. Prince, his professional rival. Not personally, but for years the media had pitted them against each other. And now his fiancée would perform with him in front of millions of viewers.

"Do you realize what this looks like?" He asked.

"Like a performance?"

"As bad publicity."

You rolled your eyes. "Because I'll sing with Prince?"

"Because my fiancé sings with Prince." The emphasis he put on that last word only made you angrier.

"I'm not your property, Michael."

"I'm not saying that."

"It sounds like that tho."

He was silent for a moment. "You're becoming more and more famous."

You frowned. "What does that have to do with this?"

"Everything." For the first time you heard something other than jealousy in his voice, fear. But you were too angry to think about it.

"My album is selling well, so now that's a problem too?"

"I didn't say that."

"No? Then what are you saying?"

Michael took a deep breath. "You have the whole world at your feet. Only two more albums and everyone is talking about you."

"And?"

"And maybe soon you'll realize that you don't need me."

The words made you freeze. "What?"

"Maybe you realize that you can get someone closer to your age."

There it was, the twelve years between you. You were 25, he was 37.

"You don't mean that."

"I only say—"

"That I'm going to leave you?"

"I didn't say that."

"That's exactly what you're saying!"

The argument became louder and louder, more and more vicious. All you heard was that he didn't want you to be successful, that he was jealous of Prince, that he thought you would cheat on him. And Michael only heard his own fears that he couldn't control.

Then he closed his eyes. As if he forced himself to make a decision. "Please leave."

You stared at him. "... What?"

"Go back to your apartment."

"Micha—"

"I need time."

"No." You could already feel the tears coming up. "No, Michael."

"I can't do this now."

"I live here!" Your voice broke completely. "We're engaged!" The first tears ran down your cheeks. "You can't just send me away, can you?"

Michael looked away. That hurt more than if he had screamed. "Until the MTV Awards."

You started crying louder. "Please." No response. "Michael, look at me." Nothing. "Please."

He picked up the phone, before you understood what was happening he called security. "Take her to her apartment."

You felt your heart breaking, literally. As if something in your chest was ripped loose.

When the security guards arrived, you resisted at first. Not physically, but you kept begging, kept crying, kept asking why he did this. Why he didn't just understand you, why he didn't trust you.

But in the end you let it happen, with tears that wouldn't stop you were escorted outside. The door of Neverland closed behind you. And for the first time since your engagement, it felt like you didn't know if you would ever return.

The first week after you left Neverland, you lived almost entirely on autopilot. You hardly slept. Hardly ate. Cried way too much. Your apartment, which had once felt like a safe place, now felt empty. Too quiet. Too small.

Especially because Michael was missing everywhere. You tried to convince yourself that it was temporary. That he just needed time, that he would eventually call.

So you called, every day. Sometimes several times a day. By now, you almost knew his voicemail by heart. But Michael never answered, and he never called back.

When you tried to reach Bill or Quincy Jones, you always got the same answer.

"Michael is busy."

"Michael is in the studio."

"Michael has interviews."

"Michael has rehearsals."

Always a reason, never a solution.

In the meantime, the engagement ring stayed on your finger, in the beginning it gave you hope, later only pain. More and more often, you stayed at home because you didn't want paparazzi to take pictures of you while you looked like you hadn't slept in weeks.

The media didn't know anything yet and you didn't want to be the one to confirm the story. So you stayed inside, wrote music, a lot of music. For the first time in years, you didn't write about falling in love. Not about dreams. Not about Michael.

You wrote about sadness, about uncertainty, about waiting for a phone call that never came. You filled notebook after notebook with texts that might one day end up on your next album, it felt like the only way to breathe.

The only times you saw Michael were on television. Interviews, award shows, press conferences. And every time it hurt.

Because he looked normal, he laughed, made jokes. Talked about HIStory. As if his life went on, as if nothing happened.

While you still fell asleep crying every night, during the rehearsals for the MTV Awards, you tried to keep yourself professional. That worked surprisingly well. Prince treated you as an equal. Not as Michael Jackson's fiancée. Not as an emerging star, just as an artist.

One evening, after a long rehearsal, you finally told him what had happened. Not everything, but enough. Prince listened attentively, then shrugged.

"If my fiancée had to sing with someone." He said quietly. "I would trust her enough to do it." You knew it wasn't an attack on Michael. Prince said it without anger.

Without judgment, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. But the words stuck.

For days.

For weeks.

Because the more you thought about it, the more you started to realize that the problem had never really been Prince. It was trust, or rather the lack of it.

Meanwhile, Michael was not happy at Neverland either, he hadn't touched any of your stuff. Your clothes were still hanging in the closet, your books were still in their place, even your favorite mug was still in the kitchen. As if you could come back at any moment.

He listened to your albums all the time. Sometimes just to hear your voice, sometimes because he wanted to remind himself of the woman he had fallen in love with.

He missed you terribly, but no one knew.

Not the media, not his fans, almost no one. Only Janet knew the truth. He regularly asked her how you were doing.

If you ate.

If you were sleeping well.

Whether you were still sad.

And whenever Janet told him that you had tried to call again, he felt the same twinge in his chest. Yet he never called back.

He waited.

You waited.

And the distance between you only increased. By the time the MTV Awards were just a few days away, you finally knew what to do. You still loved him, that had never changed.

But you didn't want to marry someone that didn't trust you, not someone who pushed you away when things got tough, not someone who hadn't made any effort to get you back for two and a half months.

On the night of the MTV Awards, you would see Michael again, and then you would finally tell him what you had decided.

No matter what. This time you would be the one to say goodbye.

The night of the MTV Awards had finally arrived, for the first time in two and a half months you were in the same room as Michael. Only you hadn't looked at him yet.

You sat in the front row, as agreed, to be able to get on stage later on. The room was full of artists, actors, producers and journalists. Cameras flashed everywhere. Your fingers nervously played with the engagement ring that was still on your left hand.

Just a little longer.

A few more hours.

After that, everything would be over.

After a few award ceremonies, the next artist was finally announced.

Michael Jackson.

The room almost exploded with applause. You looked up as he walked onto the stage. It felt strange, painful. Because despite everything, he still looked like the man you loved.

The music began.

Billie Jean.

Than The Way You Make Me Feel, Dangerous and Smooth Criminal.

As always, he had the audience completely in his grip, the audience hung on his every word. Even you couldn't deny how good he was. But then came the last song.

You Are Not Alone.

A song that used to be your song. You felt your stomach contract. Michael slowly walked to the front of the stage as the last notes floated through the room.

And then it happened, his gaze found yours. Right in the front row, the audience suddenly seemed to disappear. The camera automatically turned in your direction.

Michael sang softly. "Though we're far apart..." And point to you, a clear message, a message that millions of viewers would see at home. For a moment you were speechless. Then you felt the anger rise again.

Two and a half months.

For two and a half months he had made no effort to get you back, no phone call, no letter, no visit.

But now, in front of the cameras, he suddenly wanted to send a message?

You looked at him angrily, so angry that even the camera couldn't miss it, and at that moment you made a decision.

Fine.

Then you would do the same.

Almost an hour later it was finally your turn.

Behind the stage you tried to keep yourself calm, Prince stood next to you while technicians made the final preparations. He looked at you. "You're ready."

You nodded. "I hope so."

Prince smiled. "Don't worry. You go on that stage and you show everyone why they asked you here." For the first time that evening, a small smile appeared on your face. "Thank you."

An employee gave the signal, time to go on.

When you walked on stage, Michael automatically looked up, and for the first time since your fight, he really saw you. Not on television, not in a photo. But here, in real life.

You looked beautiful, your eyes were no longer red from crying. You no longer wore comfortable sweatpants in which you had walked around for weeks, your make-up was perfect, your dress sparkled under the spotlights.

For a moment it seemed as if the past few months had never happened. Michael felt his heart beat faster.

God, how he had missed you.

The music began. First you sang Forever Yours, the love song you once wrote for him.

This was followed by Kiss, When Doves Cry and Let's Go Crazy. The room went completely crazy, but Michael hardly noticed the audience. He only looked at you. And to Prince, especially to Prince.

Because throughout the performance you were remarkably close to each other, sometimes you almost danced against each other. Sometimes Prince held your hand, sometimes he pulled you closer to him. It was almost like Dirty Dancing.

It hurt Michael a lot more than he ever expected, and that's when Purple Rain started.

The room became quiet, you slowly walked to the front of the stage.

You knew exactly what you were gonna do, your gaze found Michael's. Just as he had done before. And while you sang the words. "It's such a shame our friendship had to end..." You pointed at him.

The whole room reacted, but you didn't look at anything else, only at Michael. This time he didn't look back angry, not even jealous.

Only sad, as if he finally understood what you were trying to tell him. That this was no longer a warning, not an attempt to make him jealous, but a farewell.

Still, you kept smiling as the music continued, you kept dancing with Prince. Stayed close to him, continued to enjoy the performance. Because for the first time in months you felt free, and Michael could do nothing but watch.

The applause of the audience still echoed through the corridors behind the stage as Michael hurriedly made his way through the crowds.

Artists, managers and camerapeople walked back and forth everywhere, but he hardly saw them. His thoughts were completely with you. At the way you had looked at him during Purple Rain, at the words you had sung, at the look in your eyes.

He needed to talk to you, he needed to explain that he had been wrong. That he had missed you, that he still loved you.

Maybe it wasn't too late, maybe he could still save this. But even before he started looking for you, he saw you coming, as if you had expected him, as if you already knew where he would be.

You walked calmly in his direction, confident, calm. That made him more nervous than any argument had ever done.

"Can we talk?" He asked softly.

You nodded. "Yeah." For a moment there was a silence between you.

For the first time in two and a half months, you were back on opposite sides. No cameras, no audience, no music. Only you.

Michael swallowed. "I missed you."

You looked at the ground for a moment. The words still hurt because they came too late. Way too late. "I tried to call you, Michael."

His shoulders slumped a little. "I know."

"Almost every day."

He closed his eyes briefly, because of course he knew.

"Why did you never answer?" You asked.

Michael had no answer, at least not a good one. Because the truth was that he had been afraid, afraid to hear that you were angry, afraid to hear that you didn't want him anymore, afraid to be confronted with his own mistakes. So he had done nothing. And that was exactly why everything had become worse.

You smiled sadly. "In the end, it all came down to the same thing."

Michael looked at you. "What do you mean?"

A tear stung behind your eyes, but you didn't drop it. You had already cried enough. "You were afraid that I could live without you." The words struck him immediately, because they were true. From the beginning, that had been his biggest fear. Not Prince. Not the MTV Awards. Not even your success.

But the idea that one day you would realize that you didn't need him. That you deserved better, that you could go on without him. You looked straight at him. "But after two and a half months of silence..." Your voice broke for a moment. "... you have proven that I can do that."

Michael felt his heart contract in his chest, as if all the air was being knocked out of his lungs. Because suddenly he understood, you didn't leave him for Prince.

You didn't leave him because you became famous.

You didn't leave him because you were younger.

You left him because he had never believed you, never really. Not when you loved him. Not when you wanted to stay with him. Not when you tried to reach him over and over again.

Slowly you looked at the engagement ring on your finger, the ring you had worn for months. Even when you doubted, even when you were sad, even when you started to realize that your relationship might not be salvageable.

Carefully you slid it off. Michael immediately felt what you were going to do. "Please..." He whispered.

But you shook your head softly, then you put the ring in his hand. The same hand in which he had shoved him with so much love months ago. "I still love you."

That only made it worse, because he knew you were telling the truth. "But I can't marry someone who only trusts me when everything is going well."

Michael looked at the ring in his hand, could hardly breathe, could hardly think. For the first time he saw the truth clearly. He had had everything he had ever dreamed of, and he had chased it away himself.

Not because of lack of love, but because of lack of trust.

You took a step back, then another. "Goodbye, Michael." He wanted to stop you, call your name, beg for one more chance.

But the words did not come, so he stood still, motionless.

With the ring firmly in his hand, and he watched you walk away. Without looking back one more time, when you finally disappeared from sight, Michael was left alone in the silent hallway.

With nothing but memories and the ring he had once given to the woman he thought would marry her.

The woman he hadn't lost to Prince, not to her success, not to her career. But of his own fear.

Because Michael had been afraid that you would leave him because you became successful. In the end, you left him because he never believed you when you said you were staying.

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