DOS Ch-200

January 26, 2007, Kloves Residence, London

Jan 2, 2007; 12:05 AM: Happy Birthday, Troy!

Jan 2, 2007; 12:08 AM: I’m probably the last person you want to talk to right now, and I accept that I messed up. I hate that I pushed you away when all you ever did was love me. Can we please behave like adults now that we’re both calm?

Jan 2, 2007; 12:11 AM: I know I have no right to ask, but if there’s even the smallest part of you that misses me, please just say something.

Jan 8, 2007; 02:16 PM: I saw the coverage of your concert. Those glow bands are really cool. You looked great on stage, so composed. So... you. I wish I could be half as strong when facing a crowd right now.

Jan 8, 2007; 11:09 PM: Don’t do this, Troy. Can we at least talk once before you ignore me again?

Jan 9, 2007; 01:00 AM: It doesn’t have to be face-to-face. Video call?

Jan 10, 2007; 05:25 PM: Okay, normal voice call?

Jan 12, 2007; 06:43 PM: At least answer me!

Jan 14, 2007; 08:05 PM: Hey! I know you can read this. Stop being an asshole.

Jan 17, 2007; 07:11 AM: Congrats on the Grammy nominations! I knew you’d get it.

Jan 17, 2007; 07:15 AM: I really miss you, Troy. I haven’t been able to sleep since that day. Please, just call me once. I’m so sorry for lying to you. I’ll do anything you say. Please forgive me.

Jan 22, 2007; 12:05 AM: I can’t believe I wasted so much time trying to fix this when you never wanted to.

Jan 22, 2007; 12:07 AM: But you know what? I’m done. I’m so done. Congratulations. You win.

Jan 22, 2007; 12:09 AM: You clearly don’t care about me anymore. I hope London’s as cold as you are. Fuck you, Troy Francis Armitage!

Reading her messages made me feel terrible. If I’d seen them on time, I would have called her, at the very least, to hash things out. I hadn’t meant to ghost her like this. I had blocked her number, sure, but I was unaware that messages still went to a separate folder. This was still an era where calls could be blocked, but texts simply got rerouted. I hadn’t checked that folder until today, only because I needed to see if she had mentioned anything about her appearance on that talk show.

But the moment I remembered the talk show, all my sadness turned into rage. Even if I had been ghosting her (which I technically wasn’t), she had no right to go on television and air our private matters to the world.

(Break)

A few days ago

“What are you waiting for, Rihanna?” Jay-Z asked curtly. “I went to great lengths to arrange this interview for you. Go in there and tell the world exactly what that motherfucker did to you.”

But… had he? Rihanna hadn’t shared the full truth with Jay-Z, but he had to be told that she won’t get back together with Troy. 

When the rapper first proposed the idea of a tell-all interview, Rihanna had been more than a little hesitant. Troy might be an asshole, but she couldn’t deny that if their roles were reversed, she might have broken up with him too. Whether she would have ignored him, though, was a hypothetical question that she had no answer to.

She had heard worse breakup stories from her friends. Much worse. Even her parents’ divorce was so much messier than this.

The real issue was that Rihanna was pissed. Beyond pissed, actually. Troy had broken up with her out of nowhere and then refused to pick up her calls or respond to her texts. Sure, she had been at fault, but that day, emotions had been running high on both sides. At the very least, he could have heard her out afterward. He hadn’t. And the worst part? All of Troy’s friends, including Benji and Evan, were being much colder with her. They hadn’t blocked her calls like Troy, but they didn’t let her talk to Troy either.

As if that wasn’t enough, the number of harassers flooding her online accounts had skyrocketed ever since Troy’s new song, Arcade, was unofficially released on YouTube. Rihanna felt doubly sad about it. The song was painful to hear—not just for her, but surely for Troy as well. But if he was hurting that much, why hadn’t he tried calling her? Not even once?

So, obviously, she wanted some payback.

“I’m ready,” Rihanna breathed out before walking into the interview room, where a lone middle-aged woman sat waiting. The woman needed no introduction, for she was none other than Oprah Winfrey.

The next few minutes passed in a blur as she was fitted with a mic and briefed on camera placements.

“Thank you for sitting down with me, Rihanna,” Oprah greeted as the interview began.

“Thank you for having me!” she replied. “I’m so glad to be here.”

“You’ve had quite a year,” Oprah said conversationally. “Umbrella is everywhere. Your album, Good Girl Gone Bad—whew! You made a statement with that one, debuting at number one on the Billboard 200. What an achievement for someone your age.”

The album had been ready last year, but Jay-Z had insisted on waiting for the right moment to release it. His original plan was to launch it when Troy and Rihanna reconciled publicly. But when they broke up for real, he shifted tactics, dropping the album a little early to capitalize on the tabloid frenzy of their separation. And apparently, the gamble had worked. Her third studio album had sold out as soon as it launched—not just in the U.S., but also in the U.K. and ten other countries.

Jay-Z might be many things, but his marketing instincts were unparalleled. Maybe that was why he was such a successful producer.

“I couldn’t believe the response people have given it,” Rihanna said with a small chuckle. “It was simply out of this world.”

“You deserve it,” Oprah emphasized. “The album is that good. And the music video for Umbrella shows everyone a bold new side of you. People worldwide are speculating that this boldness is what led to your very public breakup with Troy Armitage. Is that true?”

Rihanna took a deep breath. This was an approved question, yet his mere mention made her breath hitch, but only for a moment. “No. Troy hadn’t even seen that video when he broke up with me.”

Oprah’s eyes widened slightly. “Wait, he broke up with you? I was under the impression it was the other way around.”

Rihanna let out a bitter laugh. “That’s the hypocrisy of the media. Neither of us ever said that, yet everyone just assumed it must have been me—because he released a sappy, sad song.”

She looked away, her eyes misting over as she thought about the song that had felt like a gut punch.

Oprah gave her a moment before continuing, “I first met Troy when he was ten years old, and since then, his fame has skyrocketed. It must not have been easy dating someone at that level. Did you ever feel the pressure to match up to him?”

“So many times,” Rihanna admitted, her voice still thick with emotion. “His fans are relentless. From the moment we got together, I started getting so much hate online, just for not being the girl they wanted him to be with. Some of it was even extremely racist.”

“Then why did you stay in the relationship?” Oprah asked curiously.

Rihanna wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. “Because he was so good to me. At least when we were together. He was my first love, and I thought he was the one. I’m the romantic type, I wanted to spend my whole life with him. But clearly, I was the only one thinking that.”

Oprah hesitated slightly before asking her next question. “If you don’t mind me asking, why did your relationship break down?”

This question was not in the approved list, but Rihanna decided to answer it nonetheless.

“Because Troy couldn’t accept that I’m a modern, working woman who won’t sacrifice my career for him,” Rihanna said bluntly. “He wanted me to drop everything and move to London to be with him. I couldn’t do that.”

She paused for a moment, then continued, “You have to understand—most of the time, Troy is a good person. In fact, he’s the best. The problem is, he knows it. When you’ve had that much fame from such a young age, with everyone worshipping your every move, it’s easy to start believing them. I wouldn’t say he’s narcissistic, but he forgets that other people have their own lives, too.

"Despite that, I was willing to compromise for him. I was even ready to move to London—I just asked for some time. But he didn’t give me that. And that’s when he broke up with me.”

Oprah silently slid a box of tissues toward her. Only then did Rihanna realize she had been crying the whole time.

“I loved him so much,” Rihanna murmured unconsciously as she wiped her tears. “I still love him so much.”

Oprah studied her carefully before asking, “Would you take him back if he came back and apologized?”

All her rage had gone cold, and she decided to be honest. “In a heartbeat.”

(Break)

StarGazer89: Holy shit! Did you see Rihanna’s explosive interview with Oprah? Who knew Troy was such an asshole? He broke my Riri’s heart, and if he ever comes near me, I’ll break him.

RiriLover23: That’s exactly what I was gonna say! Anyone who can make Riri cry can’t be a good human being.

RihNavy4Life: My heart just shattered watching her cry… she really loved him. How could Troy do this to her? 💔😭

VelvetEcho: Are we sure what she said was true, though? Could she be exaggerating to gain sympathy points? Because yeah, she called him selfish, but she also said he was the best.

RachWaves: Seeing Rihanna break down like that was painful. She didn’t deserve this. Sending love to our girl! 💖

NeonWhisper: Men always say they want a strong, independent woman—until they actually get one. Shame on you, Troy! Stay strong, Riri!

UnapologeticRiFan: She gave that man her heart, and he just let it go like that?? Nah, we rioting. 🚨

SkylineSoul: I get that she’s hurt, but people break up all the time. Doesn’t automatically make Troy the bad guy. We haven’t even heard his side.

NeonDreamer: Breakups suck, but crying on Oprah? Idk… feels like a PR move to me. The whole interview gave me mixed vibes. If she really wants him back, why say things like "he only thinks about himself"? If my ex said that, I’d never go back to her.0

InfinityVox: I wasn’t there, but I can already guess why he broke up. He’s young, rich, and handsome, and they live in different countries most of the time. Most likely, he got another girl, or maybe he just wants to play around now that he’s 18. We’ll never know for sure. Still, leaving her was a stupid move. Have you seen her in Umbrella?

OprahStan07: This interview is gonna be ICONIC. People will be talking about Rihanna crying on Oprah for years.

ElectricVerse: Can anyone drop Troy’s phone number like he did for the makers of South Park? Imma call him up and give him a piece of my mind.

HiddenWarrior: I’m never buying another one of Troy’s films or concert tickets. Ever. And forget about his records/DVDs—I don’t wanna enable a narcissist like that motherfucker.

(Break)

“This is bad,” I murmured as I scrolled through the endless stream of online comments—most of them pure hatred and anger directed at me.

“That’s why I’m saying you need to release a statement immediately,” Alwyn, my publicist, enunciated each word with sharp precision. He was the one who had shown me the comments in the first place when I insisted I wasn’t going to fuel the fire.

“Listen, Troy,” he continued, his tone firm. “I don’t know what happened between you two, and frankly, I don’t want to know. But in situations like this, it’s always best to be respectful and apologize. Especially for men. You need to be the bigger person.”

“No,” I shot the idea down immediately. “I don’t care about the consequences, I won’t ever apologize until I’m really sorry. Forget it.”

“We could sue her,” Dad suggested, his voice calm but laced with irritation. “She signed an NDA, and it has a clause that clearly states that she’s not allowed to speak about your relationship in a negative light—even after a breakup.”

“That would be even worse for your image,” Alwyn jumped in before I could shut it down myself. “People will see you, the stronger party, trying to silence her, the weaker one. At most, you could threaten legal action by sending a notice, but actually suing her? That would be a disaster.”

I could never do that to her, and even she had to know that. Not unless she revealed the real truth: our relationship’s staged beginnings. Maybe she wanted me to take the bait, to call her about breaching the contract?

I closed my eyes, thinking hard about what to do next, when my phone suddenly buzzed. I pulled it out of my pocket and saw a text.

Taylor S: Her audacity! As if no one knows the truth! Stay strong, Troy. It’ll pass sooner or later. Remember, you taught me that? Or maybe… together we can write a diss track about her, Eminem-style?

I couldn’t help but chuckle. Taylor was a sweetheart, always knowing exactly what to say to lift my mood. Then, suddenly, a metaphorical light bulb switched on in my head.

Taylor was a genius.

I looked up at Dad and Alwyn. “No,” I said decisively. “No lawyers. Even if it wasn’t bad for my image. Leave it alone, Alwyn. Just do what you normally do. Post anonymous content and release unsubstantiated rumors to try to sway the narrative. Rest, I’ll the handle myself.”

Alwyn clearly didn’t like my answer, but I didn’t give him time to argue. I stood up and walked over to my room. Then I pulled out my phone and dialed my music producer.

“Hey, Doug!” I greeted. “Are you free to record something tomorrow?”

“Hell yes,” Doug replied, already sounding excited. “Is it Golden Hour? Or maybe Arcade?”

“How about both? And a few more I’ve got lined up?” I suggested. “Let’s make a full album out of it. I have all the demos prepared; I just need to send them for copyrighting. Let’s record as much as we can tomorrow, then meet again next weekend. I’ll be busy on Sunday.”

Doug let out a low whistle. “Damn. You’re on a mission. But yeah, I’m in.”

Tomorrow was Saturday—no filming for [The Night Of]. Perfect timing.

As soon as the call ended, I dialed another number. Stephen Daldry picked up almost immediately.

“You got plans this Sunday?” I asked, skipping any greetings since we’d just seen each other a few hours ago on set.

“I don’t,” he said cautiously. “Why?”

“I need to shoot a music video on short notice. Can you please help me?”

Silence. I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head.

“I’d normally ask Evan,” I continued, “but he’s in Canada. So that leaves you. I need to get this video out ASAP.”

I could have asked Dad to direct that video, but I knew he would judge me harshly when he’d come to know what exactly it was about. This wasn’t something I wanted my parents to know about until it was too late for them to do anything.

Another pause. Then—“Alright,” Stephen agreed. “But what’s the song? I’ll need to prepare.”

“I haven’t recorded it yet,” I admitted. “I have a rough demo, but I’ll be working on it full night to make some changes. Heading to the studio tomorrow.”

Stephen exhaled sharply. “In that case, can I come along? That’ll help me craft a vision for the video.”

“Sure. I’ll text you the address.”

____________________________

Any specific suggestions for a song that fit perfectly in this situation? I am tied between a few, but all of them will have to have modified lyrics for this story.