Not the performer or the costume or the version she shows the world. I see the real Laura. The woman who carries quiet ambition in every breath. The one who dreams bigger than she lets on. The one who is brave enough to choose her own happiness even when it costs her. She looks effortless and alive, completely unburdened by expectations.
I can’t remember the last time I felt that free. I don’t think I ever have.
The children sit mesmerized, some swaying gently to the melody, others watching Laura with wide, wonder-filled eyes as she sings about winter skies, brave hearts, and finding light in darkness. Even the hotel staff pause what they're doing to listen to her.
They’re all captivated by her performance. But no one is more affected than me.
Her voice wraps around me like it’s some tangible thing, pulling me closer, stirring feelings I do not even have names for.
This is her soul, laid bare through music.
Fuck, this is it, isn’t it?
This is me falling, hard and fast, with no hope of recovery.
My chest constricts as I watch her. Something deep inside twists and settles at the same time, a feeling that should scare me but somehow doesn’t. I only know one thing for certain: I want her. Maybe I don’t fully understand what that means yet, but I know I want to be wherever she is.
When the song ends, there's a moment of perfect silence before the children cheer. Laura curtsies gracefully, her smile genuine and a little shy, as if she's surprised by their enthusiasm.
I remain rooted to the spot, unable to move or speak or even think clearly. All I know is that something fundamental has changed. I want to hear her sing again. I want to hear her sing forever. I want to be the one she’s singing to.
A mom holding a tray of blue-frosted cupcakes appears at my side. “She's really something, isn't she?” she whispers. “Worth every penny.”
“She's amazing,” I say softly, the words woefully inadequate for what I'm feeling.
“Do you work for the company too?” she asks.
“No, I'm just her… friend.” I claw back my previous boyfriend declaration but even that word feels both insufficient and presumptuous.
Are we friends now? I want to be.
I want to be more than that.
Laura stands now, smoothing down her massive blue dress. “Who wants to learn how to make snowflakes with magic?”
The children jump up, hands raised high, voices overlapping as they shout variations of “Me! Me! I do!”
Laura laughs, producing a small bag from somewhere in her voluminous skirts. She pulls out what looks like glitter and sparkly confetti. “Now, this is very special snow magic,” she explains in a serious tone. “You must promise to use it only for good.”
The children nod solemnly, hands over their hearts.
“Repeat after me: I solemnly swear to use my snow magic only for good.” She places one hand over her heart and raises the other in the air.
The girls copy her, their little voices joining in a chorus of “I solemnly swear to use my snow magic only for good.”
Laura beams at them, her smile radiant. “Very good, my little snowflakes! Now, everyone form a circle…”
Soon the room is filled with twirling little girls and falling sparkles, laughter and squeals echoing off the walls. Laura moves among them, adjusting a throw here, praising a spin there, making each child feel special and seen.
She catches one girl who's about to trip, steadying her with gentle hands. “Careful, Princess Emma,” she says. “Even royal snowflakes sometimes need to catch their balance.”
The little girl beams up at her, completely starstruck, and in that moment, I know exactly how the little girl feels because I'm falling too. Hard and fast, with no hope of catching myself. I've dated before, but this is different. For the first time, I understand why Romeo risked everything for Juliet after one meeting. Some connections simply feel…inevitable.
Laura turns then, still smiling from her interaction with the little girl, and her eyes sweep the room until they land directly on me.
I freeze, and there’s a moment I think she might not be able to see me under all the lights.
When her perfect smile drops for a split second, I know I’ve been spotted.
