Elona’s POV
The ache had settled deep into my bones. Every muscle in my body pulsed with the dull sting of yesterday’s drills, an echo of Madame Delance’s relentless voice still clinging to my thoughts. I had barely slept. The ache in my shoulders, my thighs, even the arches of my feet reminded me with cruel clarity that I had chosen this path.
The morning light filtering through the apartment curtains felt too soft, too gentle for the way I felt inside. I sat hunched over at the kitchen counter, sipping a cup of water, not coffee, I didn’t want anything to dull the edge. Spooky entered the kitchen and stood across from me, watching me with that knowing look only he could wear so well.
“You’re hurting. You didn’t even eat last night,” he said with concern.
I shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m just sore, but I will be okay.”
“Elona…” His voice was gentle but firm, the kind of tone only a real friend could pull off without sounding preachy. “You have got to take care of yourself. This place...VFS...it’s demanding. But you are still human.”
“I don’t have the luxury to slow down,” I replied, standing up, wincing as the stretch tugged on my thighs. “If I want to be center stage, I need to push harder. I want this, Spooky.”
He didn’t argue. He just gave me a sad little nod. “I have to go before I’m late, I can’t be late,” I grabbed my gym bag, and I was out the door before he could say anything else. I didn’t want sympathy. Not now.
At the VFS studio, the fluorescent lights felt like an interrogation, and the tension in the air was thicker than usual. I stepped in wearing my black fitted sports shorts and a tight-fitted top that hugged my frame, not against the rules, but not the usual uniform either. Eyes flicked toward me the moment I walked in.
One of the girls sneered. “Did you miss the memo, sweetheart? This isn’t your Instagram feed.”
I paused, lips tightening. Before I could respond, Madame Delance’s heels clicked onto the polished floor. She took one long look at me and then turned her gaze to that girl.
“If you have time to critique uniforms, you have time to redo your pivot turns,” Delance said, her voice like crushed velvet over iron. “Elona, proceed.” I went to the corner of the studio and took my heels out of my gym bag. I put my sneakers inside and sucked in a breath as I moved to the center of the studio to join the rest of the girls.
The drills began, and Madame Delance’s stick was already slicing the air in rhythm, tapping the beam as a warning. Today was beam planks, core, balance, and control.
The beam was a narrow strip no wider than a handspan, raised slightly above the floor. We had to mount it gracefully in heels, drop into a forearm plank, hold it, and transition into push-ups, never letting our core dip, never letting our heels lose position.
I stepped onto the beam. The heels made my calves scream. I could feel the bruises blooming under my skin from yesterday. Lowering into the plank felt like being set on fire.
“One minute,” Delance called. Every muscle in my body quaked as I dropped down onto my forearms, my heels still perched, my hips aligned.
Thirty seconds in, sweat rolled down the side of my cheek. My hands were slick. Just a little longer.
Then it happened.
My right palm slipped.
I gasped as my elbow buckled. My body jerked sideways, and I slid off the beam, heels scraping against the mat. Humiliation rose like bile, but before anyone could say anything, I pushed up again, repositioned myself, and climbed back on the beam.
“Elona,” Delance’s voice was sharper now, but not cruel. “Do it again.” I held the plank again. This time, I didn’t slip.
By the time the drills were over, my body was trembling. I had ignored the pain in my stomach, the cramps that made my lower half feel like it was tied in knots. I hadn’t eaten. I didn’t care. Not right now. I needed to prove I belonged.
Delance came up to me after as I wiped the sweat off my face with my towel. Her lips were still painted red, perfectly unbothered, and her eyes held that strange glint of approval I had started to crave.
“You’re getting there,” she said, folding her arms as she looked me over. “I would like to see you in the center when that date arrives of the show. You are beautiful, Elona. Despite the softness. There is still time to lose it. Don’t let that softness cost you the spotlight.”
I nodded, swallowing down the tightness in my throat.“Thank you, Madame.”
She walked away, heels echoing on the floor like punctuation to her statement. I dropped my towel into my gym bag and changed from heels to sneakers again. I took my phone out and checked it, the hope dimming in my chest as the screen stayed blank. Still no message from Tristan. Nothing. Was he okay? I never saw him after he left my apartment when we spoke about the loss. I was too tired last night to text him. I didn’t want to bother him either, but I was worried. Maybe I’m reading too much into this and should give him the space he needs at this time.
It was already dark when I left the studio, night creeping in like cold fingers slipping under a door. My body ached. My heart throbbed with something I couldn’t name: worry, disappointment, or fear. Maybe all of it. I wanted to believe he was just busy. That it wasn’t what it felt like, that he wasn’t pulling away.
As I walked through the apartment door and dropped my bag by the wall, I couldn’t shake the hollow feeling inside me. Spooky glanced up from the sofa, his eyes searching mine.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I shook my head. And for a moment, I let myself feel it, the sadness, the ache, the exhaustion. But tomorrow, I would get back on the beam. I would keep going.
I had to.
I had come too far to fall now.
“Besides working so hard at VFS, I’m worried about Tristan. He hasn’t texted me since he left this apartment, and it’s something that has affected him before, and now I feel like maybe this time is worse?” I said.
Spooky was looking at me with confusion, “I’m not sure what you are saying, but if you rejected him or...”
“I lost our baby on his birthday, and he isn’t taking it well. I gave him a second chance, and I’m worried because of this loss.”
His eyes were wide as he sat up straight, “Shit, I-I’m sorry about the loss. I didn’t know. He is probably just busy, but if you want, I could go and check up on him? Maybe he needs you? Maybe he wants to be alone? I will text him first and see if he responds,” he said, with some sort of worry and panic in his voice.
“I think that we both should text him. I will take a shower and be in bed,” I took my gym bag from the floor and walked down the hallway to my bedroom.
I took my phone and went to Tristan’s chat.
Me: Are you okay?
I hit send. I hope that he will reply to my text, if not... I will have to see for myself if he is okay. At least with that, I could have some peace of mind. My phone chimed. It was a text from Cris.
Cris: Have you or Spooky heard from my Dad recently? He hasn’t read my texts nor answered any of my calls and this is soooo unlike him.