The backstage chaos was suffocating. Dancers shoved past each other, makeup artists darted between mirrors, and the smell of hairspray mixed with perfume made my head spin. I clutched the edges of my white gown, the silk flowing around my legs. The slit along my left thigh made me feel powerful, elegant—but only if I didn't trip.
My dark brown hair was perfectly in place, short and wavy, with a few stray strands framing my face. I'd spent hours making it look effortless, but the seconds felt like minutes, and my stomach kept flipping like I was about to jump off a cliff.
Music drifted from the stage, the first notes of the overture scraping at my nerves. I ran my fingers along my gown, along the embroidery at the neckline, and forced my shoulders back. Chin up, Ava. Act like you belong. Even if you don't.
"Five minutes to curtain, Ava!" someone shouted over the chaos.
I swallowed and tried to slow my heart, but the rhythm was impossible to control. Tonight wasn't just another show. Tonight was everything. My chance to step into the spotlight—and finally get away from everything. For a few minutes, maybe longer, I could leave all of it behind: the eyes, the whispers, the lies.
Then my phone buzzed. Sharp. Insistent.
I pulled it out, expecting a supportive text from Lila or a last-minute note from the choreographer.
Instead, an unknown number lit up the screen.
I knew immediately who it was.
"Don't think you can hide it forever. Tell everyone, or die."
My stomach dropped. I recognized the style of the message—the same cold, clipped way he'd written before. His words had always carried that faint smirk, the one that made it clear he was enjoying watching me squirm. But this time I was in control; he just didn't know it yet.
I gritted my teeth. He knew exactly how much power he had over me. And he wasn't bluffing. Not ever.
"Everything okay?" Lila's voice pulled me out of my panic. She was peeking over my shoulder, dark ponytail swinging, gold costume sparkling.
I forced a smile. "Yeah… just nerves."
Her skeptical look made me bite back a curse. She couldn't know. No one could. Not yet.
The stage manager barked again: "Two minutes! Ava, you're up next!"
I straightened my spine and lifted my chin. The silk of my gown felt like armor now, the slit along my leg a promise of grace. Every detail—the hair, the nails, the tiniest sparkle in the embroidery—was part of the illusion I had to sell. But underneath it, I was trembling. Because tonight wasn't just about performing. It was about disappearing. Somehow.
Somewhere behind the curtains, the audience waited. Every face in that dark, expectant crowd would see me, but they wouldn't see the real me. Not the me who knew that someone could destroy me with a single revelation. Not the me who had a plan.
I slid my phone back into my pocket. The threat lingered in my thoughts like a shadow, but it also sharpened something inside me. I wasn't going to let him—or anyone—control my story. Not anymore.
I stepped closer to the curtains, heels clicking against the floor. The roar of the audience seeped through the heavy velvet. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the music and anticipation wash over me.
Then the curtains parted.
The lights hit me, white and blinding. The audience's faces stretched into a sea of expectation. My heart slammed against my ribs. But I forced my arms up, let the music carry me. Every twirl, every leap, every graceful step was perfect. Elegant. Controlled.
And all the while, I imagined slipping further away, letting them see only what I wanted. Leaving nothing behind but applause and shadows.
The message from him lingered, a prickling reminder at the edges of my mind. He thought he could scare me, expose me, ruin me. Maybe he could. But maybe… maybe he had no idea just how far I was willing to go to escape.
Tonight wasn't just the performance. Tonight was my beginning.