𝐧𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐞 (𝐧.) that which chases sorrow away.
In their painful past, they were childhood sweethearts that sought comfort with each other.
Years later, the two broken souls are pulled back together by fate in an alliance that will save their...
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Maria had been there before.
The 23rd annual JOY Gala, organised by the very wealthy, Giovanni Adami, was an event she couldn't miss. The investor adored her - and was obsessed with the way she could exhibit a story through her alluring voice, her dance, connect with her audience leaving them speechless and astounded. It was for this reason that she was performing there that night; not only to benefit and represent her company but to donate to a good cause, one Giovanni doted on after the death of his wife; cancer research.
Expectant spectators filled the auditorium, all dressed in their expensive fitted suits, tailored dresses and limited edition accessories. The audience that night was to impress, she could not disappoint her future partners. That was what made her anxious, the fear of ruining it all for herself, her company and her dancers. She was always confident in herself, her ability but could never shake the fear of failure.
They were all in anticipation waiting for her on the other side of the grand velvet curtains, hiding away the awaiting orchestra, the nervous dancers, all the fixed props. All was in position and it wasn't long until she was due on stage for the main performance.
She had been preparing for that performance for months, evident through the callouses, bruises, scars eating at her small feet. Her muscles ached, she could hardly walk. Maria had no time to rest nor care for herself. Practice to practice, exercise, yoga, Pilates, jogging and dieting - the constant cycle was hard on her. She knew her body was weary, on the verge of giving up on her but she hung onto the hope that the performance would be perfect.
Hidden to Iris, she hadn't eaten well in days, surviving merely on water and determination. Yet this did not stop her from gagging in the bathroom previously that evening, though nothing came out.
To her, it was a good thing, it meant she was in perfect shape for the performance. She had to ensure she was not a laughing stock in front of the women, not one sight of fat had to peek out from her. The men, of course would be expecting to see not one imperfection on her beautiful body - she had to be above their expectations. She hated the patriarchy, the contestant judgements and stares and yet she had placed herself in a career where her self-worth and confidence would be challenged a lot - ballet.
Her career was her life; Maria hadn't spent her years training vigorously for nothing. She had to reach the top - even higher. If that meant dealing with the eyes of people, it would be something she would have to endure.
In that moment, she was sat staring at herself in the glass mirror. She could feel the stinging in her worn out shoulders, begging her to relax. As the stylist placed the Swarovski clips into her hair that was tugging on her scalp, worsening the pounding headache torturing her, she winced as she attempted to stretch her back, arching it. It hurt like hell; she immediately stopped, realising how much worse she made the pain.
