"Chester would have never approved of all this," she muttered, her thick Russian accent lacing her words with a bitter edge.
Mina ran her thumb over the engraving on her wedding band ā Chester + Mina forever ā the letters beginning to fade from years of wear. The small, silver ring was all she had left of him, aside from a house crammed with memories no one else seemed to value anymore. Every corner she turned felt haunted by his voice ā soft laughter in the kitchen, the echo of his singing in the shower, a half-finished lyric scrawled on an old notepad.
It had been seven years since she lost him, and some days, Mina could still smell the faint trace of his cologne on their bedsheets. Yet, while her heart was stuck in the past, Linkin Park had apparently decided to move on without him. It had been two weeks since the band announced their new singer, an unknown nobody named Emily Armstrong, who had become the darling of every music blog.
A furrowed brow creased Mina's face as she read the latest flattering headline about Emily on her laptop, "Emily Armstrong: The Rebirth of Linkin Park." Her fingers tightened around the worn white ceramic mug filled with strong, black coffee, her jaw clenching involuntarily.
"Rebirth," she muttered scornfully, her thick accent twisting the word into something harsher. Her husband wasn't some old sweater to be discarded and replaced when it had outlived its usefulness. He was a force of nature, irreplaceable in every sense of the word.
The screen before her displayed an interview with Emily, her eager smile splashed across the pixelated banner under the headline, a wide-eyed innocence that made Mina's skin crawl.
"Chester was irreplaceable. But I hope to honor his legacy," the headline quoted Emily as saying. Mina's fingers twitched, her free hand hovering over the trackpad, itching to close the tab, put away this torment. That statement, those words...they felt like knives in her chest.
"ŠŠµŃ, Š½ŠµŃ...," she muttered to herself, shaking her head vigorously, her dreads swaying with the motion. "You cannot honor him by taking his place." She closed the tab forcefully and pushed herself away from the computer momentarily. Something about that woman didnāt sit right with her. As she returned to the computer, she began digging.
This woman. This replacementā¦ she is a cultist. A hot twisting rage set in as Mina read about Emilyās cult involvement. The deep lines that crisscrossed Mina's forehead seemed more pronounced as she clicked on a news tab. Her once gentle eyes were now hard, determined, filled with fierce resolve as she scanned the web page - "Emily Armstrong: A Rising Star with a Dark Past."
"ŠŠ»ŃŃŃ," Mina cursed under her breath, her sea-blue eyes flashing darkly. She struggled to keep herself from smashing the mug against the wall. Instead, she took a gulp of the still steaming coffee, allowing its bitter taste to momentarily distract her from the loathsome reality.
"Chester would have never approved of all this," she muttered, her thick Russian accent lacing her words with a bitter edge. Mina's gaze lingered on an old picture of Chester that she kept on her desk, his smile as bright as the sun that set behind him in the snapshot.
Glancing back at the screen, her emotions roiled, a storm under her calm exterior. She had always been good at hiding her feelings; it was a survival skill from her harsh upbringing in the USSR. She had learned that in a world full of pain and suffering, showing weakness was not an option.
But this was different.
Her heart ached with a pain more profound than she had ever known - a wound that felt raw and exposed. She would defend Chester's memory fiercely, and the thought of Linkin Park allowing a cultist to step into his shoes was unacceptable to her.
Mina felt the dormant rage welling up within her, and she let it. This was not an adversary she would back down from. She had fought for everything in her life, from her hard-earned success as an artist and musician to the love she had shared with Chester. She wouldn't let it be tarnished by this Emily. Not at all.
Mina closed her laptop in one swift motion, her heart pounding against her chest. She needed to do something. She couldnāt just sit idly by and watch as the legacy of Chester was being usurped. His memory needed to be protected - and she knew that she was the only one who could do it. She didnāt understand this decision at all. And worse, Mike promised heād let her know if they were going to move on one day with a new singer, so she could prepare herself and also vet themā¦ and he didnāt.
Staring at the silent laptop, Mina felt a chill run down her spine. Mike had promised. He had looked her square in the eyes at Chester's funeral and swore that if the band ever decided to replace Chester, he would inform her. Yet, his promise had been as hollow as his condolences.
"Mike," she whispered, her voice barely audible, brimming with disappointment and heartache. He had betrayed her trust ā their friendship. She felt a stinging sensation at the back of her eyes but blinked it away hurriedly.
Grabbing her phone, she dialed Mike's number. Her hand shook slightly as she hit the call button. It rang once, twice, thrice before it went to voicemail.
"Shinoda, you have betrayed us," she said with a hardened voice, the underlying disappointment evident. "You promised me you would consult me if you decided to replace Chester. I thought we were friends, Mike." She ended the call abruptly, her heart pounding loudly in her ears.
Sitting back on her chair, she stared blankly at the silent room around her; the darkened space seemed fitting for her tumultuous thoughts and turbulent emotions. Her memories of Chester flooded backātheir shared laughs, their deep conversations about music and life, their fierce arguments that always ended in understanding and respect. They were two fiery souls who had found solace in each other's company, and the thought of that being disrespected by the very people Chester called his family made her blood boil.
She took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. Now was not the time for tears or emotional outbursts. She needed to be strong, just like she had been all her life.
Looking at the photograph of Chester again, Mina felt a surge of determination pulse through her veins. "I will protect you, my love," she whispered, tracing the contours of his face with a trembling finger. "I will not let them tarnish your memory."
Her mind was a whirl of thoughts; a dark storm brewing.