-Aria-
The week stretched ahead of me like an unwelcome invitation to a shadowy masquerade ball. It felt like the world was holding its breath, waiting for the premiere to arrive, and I could barely keep my own heart from bursting out of my chest. Every day was a complex tapestry woven with nerves and anticipation. As I practiced my routine, my feet cried out with every pirouette and leap, but what choice did I have? This was it—my moment onstage, and nothing would derail me.
Yet in every graceful spin, in the meticulous articulation of my body, there lingered two hidden thoughts that buzzed in the background like a persistent mosquito. First, there was Jean-Julien. The memory of our dinner felt vivid and intoxicating, as if I could still feel the warmth of the candlelight flickering be
