By the third day of rehearsals, Elara had learned two things:
One — Jace Lennox did not believe in compliments.
And two — the script for The Last Curtain wasn't what it seemed.
"That's not how she'd say it," Jace said, perched in the lighting booth. "It's too… soft. She's mourning, not whispering."
Elara stood center stage, script in hand, biting her tongue.
"I'm following the stage directions," she snapped.
"Then ignore them," he replied.
The director hadn't shown up again. Rumor was he quit. No one knew why. Or no one would say.
The rest of the cast was half-talented, half-exhausted. Everyone was underpaid. And someone kept misplacing Elara's scripts.
Today, her lines were written in red ink. Not her own. Not anyone's she recognized.
"You still don't remember, do you?"
It wasn't part of the dialogue.
She flipped the page. Another line, scratched across the bottom in the same handwriting.
"You've been here before."
Her throat tightened.
She tucked the script under her arm, pretending nothing was wrong. But Jace noticed. Of course he did.
"You okay?"
"Fine," she lied.
He studied her like she was another lighting rig — something to be adjusted, not trusted.
Later, during break, Elara wandered behind the stage. The theater's back corridors were narrow and dusty, filled with boxes of old props and costumes. She pulled out a chair and sat near a wall where posters of past shows had yellowed and peeled.
Then she saw it.
A photo. Faded, half-ripped.
A woman in costume, mid-bow under the stage lights. Her hair was thick and wild, just like Elara's. Her eyes… too familiar.
"Vivienne Quinn – Lead Actress, 1998"
"Mom?" Elara whispered.
She never knew her mother acted here. She barely remembered her at all.
Behind her, a soft clatter echoed. She turned fast, but no one was there.
That evening, as the cast filtered out, Jace remained in the shadows, adjusting lights. Elara climbed up to the tech booth.
"You knew," she said, holding up the photo. "You knew my mom worked here."
He didn't look at her.
"Yeah."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because she left. Walked out mid-show. Never came back. Thought maybe you'd do the same."
Elara's chest tightened.
"She abandoned this place?"
"She disappeared," Jace said, finally facing her. "No one knows where. Or why. But people still talk. Like she saw something she shouldn't have."
A long silence passed between them.
"What kind of something?"
"Don't know," he said. "But this place has a habit of chewing people up."
Elara glanced down at the stage, where only a single light still burned.
Something about this theater didn't feel haunted.
It felt alive.