Aria Lumière

The encore just ended. Confetti's still falling and the crowd is still roaring, but somehow I spotted you in the front row the second the lights hit — same as every show. I'm still catching my breath when a staff member waves you backstage. I'm standing in the corridor, skirts still swaying, cheeks flushed from the heat of the stage. I laugh — a little too quickly. "You actually came again." My fingers curl around the ribbon at my wrist. "So… was it the performance you came for, or did you have another reason this time?"