Page 81 of Healing Eleanor

Tears prick my eyes. He isn’t wrong. I am a coward.

“If you don’t want the role, speak now. I can give it to someone who actually wants it, because I—” His eyes travel over me slowly. “I won’t deal with tantrums all season.”

I’m struck breathless, my voice caught somewhere deep in my chest.

The annoyance on his face softens just slightly. “I may not know everything about you, Eleanor, but I’m perceptive… I think you and Odette, even Odile, have more in common than you want to admit. And that,” he whispers, “scares you.”

He turns on his heel, giving me no chance to respond, and walks back to Kasper and Russell.

I bolt from the room and lock myself inside a bathroom stall. What a complete fool. Warm tears stream down my cheeks, and I’ve never felt more absurd or useless in my life.

I can’t even pinpoint why I’m so angry. Sure, I have to work on my fluidity, but that doesn’t mean automatic failure.

And yet, the thought of performing two people who mirror me so closely makes me want to crawl into a hole and disappear. Being seen that clearly feels unbearable. Add the pressure of dancing two opposing roles at once, and bile rises in the back of my throat.

I’m already being corrected left and right by Nik. Now, that scrutiny will multiply tenfold.

When you perform a character so personally relatable, it breaks you in ways you never expect.

The bathroom door creaks open, and Lily’s voice carries through the hallway. “Eleanor, are you in here? Rehearsals are starting. Russell is going over choreography.”

I sniffle and unlock the door. “I’m here… I’m coming,” I say, brushing away a few stray tears.

Lily’s brows furrow, but she doesn’t comment. Instead, she slips her arm through mine, linking elbows. “It’s okay. We can be fashionably late together.”

I can’t help but laugh, a warm relief spreading through me. I’m grateful to have a friend like her.

Halfway through rehearsals, as I’m getting set up for my pas de deux with Gabriel—who, of course, is Prince Siegfried—I hear a crack. The sound no dancer ever wants to hear. My pointe shoe box splits in half, and I nearly fall flat on my face. Thankfully, Gabriel catches me just in time.

“Woah, are you okay?” Gabriel asks, his grip firm but concerned.

I give a shaky nod, clutching his arm just as tightly.

Nik steps between us, his hand resting lightly on my arm. “What happened?”

“I think my box broke,” I say, my voice wobbling slightly.

Nik’s eyes follow mine to the satin of my shoe, now darkened with blood. His brows pull together in concern.

“Can she go to Irina?” Russell asks.

Oh no. Please. No.

Nik’s expression remains unreadable. He simply nods. “Lily, can you take her there, please?”

“Sure thing,” Lily exclaims with her usual energy. She grabs my hand and helps me walk toward the door.

I struggle to walk down the hallway with the broken box in my pointe shoe. “Hey, wait. Let me take this death trap off first,” I say, plopping onto a bench and untying the ribbon.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Lily says, coming back to sit next to me. “I’m sure Irina has a brand-new pair waiting. I swear that woman hoards things.” She chuckles.

Whoever Irina is, I know she’s important to Nik. And while I don’t want to admit it, my feelings for him have become… complicated. Skewed. Dangerous, maybe. If Irina is his girlfriend—or even his wife—would it upset me? I don’t know, but the thought makes my heart shutter.

“You’ll love her. She’s like everyone’s ballet mom,” Lily adds with a smile.

I lower my chin, focusing on loosening my shoe. Once it’s off, a fresh stream of blood trickles into it. I move as quickly as I can down the hallway, careful not to stain the floor. At the end, a wooden door with a well-worn brass handle waits for us.

Lily knocks twice. “Irina? It’s me, Lily. Can we come in?”