I call for a water break that I don’t really need.
Step offstage before my voice can betray me again.
I step into the hallway and close the door behind me, leaning my shoulder against the cool wall like it might hold me upright.
My phone buzzes.
Evelyn Sterling.
“Hi,” I say, keeping my voice low.
There’s a pause on the other end.
“Hi, Lila,” Evelyn says. Calm. Careful. The tone she uses when she’s already put pieces together and is deciding how gently to place them back in front of you. “I wanted to check in.”
My stomach drops anyway.
I twist the cap off the water bottle and take a sip I don’t need. My hands shake just enough to annoy me.
“I’m fine,” I say automatically.
“You aren’t,” Evelyn replies. Not unkind. Not accusatory. Just factual. “Your indicators dropped overnight. Across the board.”
I close my eyes.
“Rehearsal’s just… off,” I say. “It happens.”
“It doesn’t happen like this,” she says softly.
Silence stretches. The hum of the building fills it. Somewhere down the hall, someone laughs. It sounds wrong.
Evelyn continues, “I hear your discussion turned into a fight. I’m calling because Cam’s team contacted me. We need to discuss next steps. They said you wanted to accelerate the dissolution of the contract.”
I open my mouth.
Nothing comes out.
Because the answer is no. Because the answer has always been no.
But my chest aches in a way that makes it hard to breathe, and the image of Cam’s back as he walked out won’t leave my mind.
“Can we… not decide that yet?” I ask. “Can we hold off?”
Another pause. Longer this time.
“Are you okay?” Evelyn asks.
“I’m just tired,” I say.
“OK,” she says gently. “We don't have to decide on the contract right now.”
My knees weaken. I shift my weight fully against the wall, pressing my palm flat to my chest like I can physically hold myself together.
“Cam’s indicators dropped too,” Evelyn continues. “They've been dropping since yesterday.”
My throat tightens.
“He left,” I say.
