He Said Purple Was More Interesting

Every entertainment journalist asks the same question: Who is Eason Schnapp's Row 8, Seat 27 reserved for?
As one of the world's top rockstars, that seat has remained empty at every single one of his concerts.
But only I knew the truth. It marked our anniversarymine and Easons.
After the curtain fell on his 200th show, I was doing my usual late-night scan of the online chatter.
Then, a single comment sliced through the noise.
"You guys know nothing. I went to high school with him. That's the day he and a certain someone broke up."
I frowned, trying to get a better look, but the comment vanished, deleted in an instant.
Just then, my assistants frantic call came through. "Ava! Eason got into a fight! The cops picked him up!"
My heart hammered against my ribs. Forgetting everything else, I tore out of my apartment, my car swerving as I nearly caused an accident.
But when I arrived and looked through the bars of the holding cell, the sight that greeted me sent a chill through my soul.
It was Eason, clutching a woman in a purple dress, his arms wrapped tightly around her. His eyes were bloodshot with a raw, protective fury Id never seen before.
And in that single moment, the entire world I had built around him shattered.

1
When I walked into the station, Easons brow furrowed at the sight of me. He didnt loosen his grip on the trembling woman in his arms.
"Ava, just get us bailed out."
My fingers curled into a fist. I stared at the woman's face. She looked familiar. But now wasnt the time for questions. The moment the media got a whiff of Eason in a police station, they'd descend like a pack of wolves.
After signing the release forms, they were let out. Only then did I notice the tear in the woman's dress, her fragile, trembling frame hidden beneath Easons tailored suit jacket. She looked so painfully vulnerable.
At the station's entrance, she glanced at me, her eyes red and swollen. She handed the jacket back to Eason, whose jaw was clenched tight.
"Eason, thank you for tonight. I'm sorry for all the trouble."
He took a deep breath, a flicker of irritation in his eyes. "It's no trouble. If it wasn't for"
"Well, well, little thing," a slurred voice interrupted. A drunk, bruised man stumbled out behind them. "Still dressed like that? Waiting for a real man to take care of you?"
The girl flinched, her body shaking.
Easons face went cold. A feral snarl twisted his lips, and he lunged, a blur of motion, his fist connecting with the drunk's face again and again.
The sheer violence of it stunned me. Id never seen this side of him.
"You want to die, you son of a bitch?" he roared, his voice guttural. "I'll beat that filthy mouth of yours shut!"
My heart leaped into my throat. "Eason, stop! Do you know where you are?!" We were right outside the police station!
I rushed forward to pull him back, but in his blind rage, he shoved me, sending me sprawling onto the pavement. A sharp pain shot through my knee as blood began to seep through my jeans.
The woman in purple gasped and ran to him, her voice choked with tears. "Eason, please! Stop! I'm okay!"
At the sound of her voice, he froze.
My lips parted, but no sound came out. I watched, stunned, as the man who had just ignored me turned to her with a look of frantic concern.
"Are you crazy? Why would you run into a fight!" His voice, harsh at first, softened as he took in her tear-streaked face. "Did he hit you? Are you hurt?"
Then, as if just noticing me, his gaze flickered in my direction. He walked over and helped me up. "How'd you fall over? Your pants are covered in blood, you okay?"
I shook my head, numb, as a tiny crack formed in my heart.
For starting another fight on police station property, Eason was detained again. The drunk threatened to press charges, but I handled it with a hundred thousand dollars.
"You know what to say and what not to say," I told him coolly. "Consider this a hundred grand for your silence." The man's eyes lit up, and he eagerly signed the settlement.
In the car on the way home, Eason stared out the window, his lips pressed into a thin line.
"Ava," he said finally. "I'm worried that guy might go after Amanda. Can she stay with us tonight?"
Amanda. So that was her name.
A lump formed in my throat. I wanted to scream, to refuse, but the words wouldn't come. For years, I had given Eason everything he wanted. I was his rock, his constant... his yes-man.
I set Amanda up in the guest room. Later that night, in our bedroom, I finally broke the silence.
"Don't you have anything to explain to me?"
Eason, toweling his hair dry, paused. He seemed to finally register the storm brewing inside me. He came over, wrapping his arms around me with a soft laugh.
"Getting a little jealous, are we?" He gently kissed my furrowed brow. "That's Amanda Summers. An old classmate. We're not close, it's not what you think."
I looked down, letting the acid of doubt churn in my stomach.
Long after his breathing evened out into a deep sleep, I unlocked my phone. I found the profile of the person whod posted that comment and sent a direct message.
"Excuse me, the person you mentioned from Eason Schnapp's past... was her name Amanda?"
The reply was almost instant. "Yeah. Everyone at Northwood High knew about them."
I turned to look at the man sleeping beside me, my heart twisting in my chest. The person on the other end, thrilled to have found a curious ear, spilled everything.
One message after another, they painted a picture of a past I never knew. Eason getting into fights for her. Eason studying relentlessly for her. Eason writing his first songs for her.
And the story of their breakupof Eason, begging her to stay, crying without a shred of his pride left.
Each detail was another twist of the knife.
But the final blow, the one that shattered me completely, was this: the day they broke up, August 27th, was the day he and I got together.

2
I had chased Eason for so long.
That day, he just showed up beneath my apartment window, his eyes red-rimmed as he asked, "Do you want to be with me or not?"
I was so stunned I couldn't speak, caught in a daze of disbelief and joy.
He looked at me impatiently. "Well? Yes or no?"
"Yes!" I blurted out, terrified hed change his mind. My eyes shone as I looked at him. It was the happiest day of my life.
Now, I can only wonder: that photo he took of us kissing, moments after I said yes... who did he send it to?
Was it for her? Was I just his revenge?
So, August 27th wasn't a celebration of me.
It was a memorial for her.
The thought squeezed the air from my lungs, my heart feeling like it was being crushed in a vice.
All these years together, I had defied my family to follow him across the country, from one dingy club to another. He said he didn't want to rely on his family's connections, so I became his manager. I'd forced down drinks at sleazy meetings and endured the wandering hands and leering smiles of industry vultures, all to get him a deal, a stage, a chance.
I never told him about the worst of it. I knew if I did, he'd go after those men like a mad dog, and I couldn't let him ruin his career. So, as long as it wasn't too much, I swallowed the humiliation and kept smiling.
His career exploded. He became a superstar. And through countless sold-out arenas, that one seat, Row 8, Seat 27, always remained empty.
I'd asked him about it once.
Hed paused for a fraction of a second, then tapped my head playfully, his voice laced with affection.
"You dummy. Did you forget our own anniversary?"
His words had filled me with a dizzying sweetness. Now, that same memory was a bitter poison corrupting my heart.
That momentary pause... he was inventing a lie for me.
As the night deepened, a soft murmur from the man beside me sent ice through my veins.
"Amanda... don't leave me..."
A bitter smile touched my lips. I was nothing but a fool in this play.
The next morning, Eason woke up and instinctively pulled me into his arms for a kiss. I turned my head, avoiding him.
His motion froze. He frowned. "Who pissed you off now?"
"Get Amanda out of our house," I said, my voice flat. "Don't think I don't know about your history."
He stood up, his expression turning cold, his voice dropping to a low, warning tone. "You investigated me?"
"Ava, don't cross the line. It's not a good look."
I almost laughed. "Cross the line? I'm your girlfriend. What line is there to cross? Don't I even have the right to ask?"
His jaw was tight, his face a mask of anger. We stood there in a silent standoff.
"Think whatever you want," he finally said. "Nothing happened between Amanda and me. Ava, don't be dramatic."
My lips trembled as a metallic taste rose in my throat.
Just then, a soft knock came from the bedroom door, followed by Amandas apologetic voice. "Sorry, I didn't mean to listen. I just needed to talk to Eason about something."
My face hardened. Eason sighed and went to the door. "Ava, you're the only one for me," he whispered, as if that could fix everything.
He opened the door and introduced me to Amanda. I saw her smile falter, the expression she forced onto her face painfully strained.
"Hi, Ava. Please don't misunderstand. Yesterday, I was nearly assaulted, that's why E... Eason helped me." As she spoke, a look of real fear crossed her face, as if reliving the trauma. "Eason... could I possibly stay here for a little while?"
"No."
"Yes."
Our voices overlapped. I stared at Eason, who shot me an annoyed look. "Ava, stop being unreasonable. Amanda has nowhere else to go right now."
I forced a brittle smile and turned to the woman before me, holding out a credit card.
"Why don't you get a nice hotel suite? Miss Summers, the bill's on me."
Humiliation flashed across her face, as if I'd slapped her.
"Ava Sinclair!" Eason snatched the card and threw it at me, the plastic stinging my cheek. "That's enough!"
He then took Amanda's hand and led her away.
A moment later, a text message lit up my phone.
It was from her.
I'm sorry, but I truly love him. I won't give him up to anyone.
That night, Eason didn't come home.
And the next day, I found out exactly what Amanda meant by 'not giving him up.'

3
The top floor of Apex Records was Eason's exclusive domain.
"Everyone, I want you to meet the new bassist for the band." He gently pushed a tall, slender woman forward, standing behind her in a clearly protective stance.
"Amanda Summers."
"She'll be joining us from now on."
The room went silent. The other band members exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes darting between me and Eason.
"Eason," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "I'm your manager. Did you run this by me?"
He glanced at me, his eyes filled with indifference. "If you have a problem with it, you can quit."
His gaze was challenging, almost mocking. "You wouldn't, would you, Ava? You couldn't leave me. So just accept it."
A cold dread washed over me. I stared at him in disbelief. He was actually using my love for him as a weapon against me.
But he miscalculated. I'm not the kind of person you can threaten.
"Fine," I said, my voice clear and steady. "I quit."
And with that, I turned and walked out, leaving him standing there with a look of stunned surprise on his face.
The air in the room felt like it had turned to ice.
Eason caught up to me in the hallway. The sight of me walking away without a second glance had sparked a strange panic in his eyes.
"Ava!" He grabbed my arm, stepping in front of me. He froze when he saw the tears welling in my eyes.
I never cried in front of him. He'd only ever seen me cry in moments of passion, never in anger or sadness.
"You..." He let out a defeated sigh and pulled me into his arms. "I'm sorry, okay? I screwed up. I wasn't thinking about your feelings. Forget I said anything. Amanda won't join the band."
I pressed my lips together, a foolish sliver of hope flickering back to life in my chest.
"Hey, don't be sad," he murmured. "Tomorrow's our anniversary. I've got everything planned. Let me pick you up, okay?"
I nodded, giving myself one last chance to be a fool for him.
The next evening, I sat on the sofa, waiting, my heart fluttering with anticipation.
But the night grew deeper. The silence in the villa grew heavier with each passing minute, crushing my hope into dust. My phone remained dark.
Then, it pinged.
The sound was jarring in the dead quiet.
It doesn't matter if I'm not in the band. I told you I wouldn't give up on him.
The text was accompanied by a photo: Eason and Amanda in the practice room, her body nestled against his.
I glanced at the call log. Ten missed calls to him.
I stood up, grabbed my keys, and drove.
As I reached the top floor of the record building, the sound of music and their laughter drifted down the hall, each note a needle in my ears. My legs felt like they were filled with lead, each step an agony.
My face was pale as I crept closer, peering through the crack in the door. The sight inside stole the breath from my lungs and the blood from my face.
Amanda was sitting in Eason's lap at the drum set. He was wrapped around her from behind, his hands covering hers as they beat out a rhythm.
"How are you so clumsy? You still can't get this?" he teased, but his eyes were full of a soft, smiling tenderness.
When the music stopped, they leaned closer and closer, until their lips met.
My strength gave out. I stumbled back against the wall, my fingers digging into the drywall to keep from collapsing.
In that instant, the love I had nurtured for ten years finally, irrevocably, shattered.
I closed my eyes, forcing back the broken light in them.
"Looks like I came at a bad time."
My voice made them jump apart. Eason whipped his head around, instantly pushing Amanda away from him. When he saw the cold mockery in my eyes, his voice trembled.
"Ava?" He rushed toward me. "Don't misunderstand. I was just teaching her the drums."
I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. I strode past him to face the triumphant smirk on Amanda's face. With my left hand, I shoved a cymbal crashing to the floor. With my right, I slapped her, hard, across the face.
"Really?" I spat. "Since when do you teach the drums with your tongue?"
Eason instinctively moved to shield Amanda, pulling her behind him as she clutched her cheek. The force of his movement sent me stumbling back into a wall, the sharp pain in my back mirroring the one in my heart.
"Ava! Calm down! We can talk about this at home."
I looked at him, at the man I had once loved, and felt nothing but the bitter clarity of what a colossal fool I had been.
"Eason Schnapp," I said, my voice ringing with finality. "We're over."

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