When you feel lost, remember: the stars shine brightest in the darkest night.
I wait for the words to land. To settle into my chest and fill the hollow space that’s been growing there for weeks. Todo what they’ve always done—anchor me, guide me, remind me that someone who loved me left behind a roadmap for moments exactly like this.
Nothing.
The words sit there, inert. Pretty but meaningless. Fortune-cookie wisdom dressed up in my mother’s scrawl.
I fold the heart and reach into the box for another. The wooden chest is smaller than I remembered—or maybe I’m just picturing a pair of child-sized hands clutching to it like a lifeline. A talisman that holds all the answers to everything that matters. I pull out a pink heart this time, edges worn soft.
You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.
The first time I read that one, it landed deep. Then I learned it’s literally a Winnie the Pooh quote. My mother plagiarized a cartoon bear to bestow her infinite wisdom.
Another heart. Yellow.
Dance like nobody’s watching.
Painfully cliché. A little reminiscent ofFootloose. And wildly ironic, considering twenty-some thousand people are about to watch me dance like Napoleon Dynamite in a leotard.
“You’re going to wear those out.”
I look up. Taio is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me with that quiet intensity that makes my stomach do complicated things. He’s in all black, as usual—the bodyguard uniform that somehow looks like it was tailored specifically for his tease of a body. What is the point of all those muscles if he insists on keeping them sheathed in clothing?
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to watch you shake that box like it owes you money.” He pushes off the frame and moves into the room, settling onto the arm of the couch a few feet away. Close enough to be present, far enough to give me space. “What’s wrong?”
“Pre-show ritual.” I hold one up. “I do it before every single performance for good luck…well, except for New York, but we know how that ended.”
“Why so many?” Taio asks, looking at the growing pile of paper beside the box. “Those aren’t working?”
I let out a laugh that sounds more like a sob. “Tonight nothing is working.” I pull another heart from the box—blue this time.
The only person you need to be better than is the person you were yesterday.
“But what if the person I was yesterday was also a disaster?” I mutter, crumpling it slightly before smoothing it back out. Old habits. I can’t bring myself to actually damage them, even when they’re failing me.
Taio watches me pull another heart, then another, my movements getting more frantic. Shaking the box. Digging to the bottom. Searching for the one piece of paper that will somehow make all of this okay.
Follow your heart. Believe in yourself. Everything happens for a reason.
“Charlie.” His voice cuts through my spiral.
I freeze, a fistful of hearts clutched against my chest like they might save me if I just hold on tight enough.
“Why are you so nervous?” He tilts his head, genuinely curious. “You’ve been doing this forever. You’ve performed hundreds of shows. What’s different about tonight?”
The question hits somewhere deep. I set the hearts down, smoothing them against my thigh.
“I can’t remember,” I say quietly.
“Your lyrics or your marks?”
I stare at my reflection in the mirror—the glitter, the rhinestones, the perfect waves. The costume I didn’t know would become my permanent identity, like a sparkly exoskeleton I can’t shed. “I can’t remember what I loved about this.” The words come out hollow, echoing against the vanity lights that frame my face in surgical brightness. “I used to love music. Like, genuinely love it. The way the bass line would climb up through the soles of my feet and settle somewhere behind my sternum. How a perfect bridge could make me weep. The electricity of an entire crowd breathing together in synchronized awe.” I shake my head and watch the light catch on my hair, creating a momentary halo that feels like false advertising. “Now all I can think about is what could go wrong. What has already gone wrong. How, no matter what I do, or how hard I try, somebody is leaving disappointed. Someone hates me for existing. I can’t win them all, Taio…”
“Of course not,” he says.
I lift my gaze, his eyes are deadlocked on me, a look of anticipation on his face, like he’s waiting for me to get to the punchline.
