Right one at the wrong time

The mistake

HAPPY ESC WEEK BESTIES!!! My plan was to drop many chapters during this week but well.. At least there's this one now which I'm posting while watching the 2nd semi finale asdfgh Can't believe Konstrakta and Cornelia are currently both in Malmö like help??? Life immitating art 😭😭

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Chapter 17:

As the first rays of dawn began to filter through the curtains, Ana lay in her bed, her mind calm, almost empty for the first time in weeks. The bed and the mattress almost seemed to melt into her body beneath her. She rolled over and found herself wrapped in the comforting embrace of her husband, their bodies entwined in a cocoon of warmth and familiarity. With a contented sigh, she snuggled closer to him and sought comfort in the familiar scent of her husband’s neck. She closed her eyes and let the peace of the moment wash over her, the worries of the waking world forgotten for a moment. All was well. She was with him, she felt good. Nothing could upset her.

But as she nestled closer, a subtle shift in the contours of her husband’s body caught her attention—a softness, a gentleness that seemed out of place. He felt wonderful but at the same time not like her husband at all. Frowning in confusion, Ana opened her eyes, only to find herself met with a sight that sent her heart racing with shock.

The man lying beside her was not her husband. His features, though similar, were softer, his hair a shade of blond that didn’t belong to her partner. And then, as if emerging from a fog, his face shifted, morphing into the unmistakable face of Cornelia.

A gasp escaped Ana’s lips as she recoiled in shock, her heart pounding in her chest. In that moment, the boundaries between dream and reality almost blurred, leaving her disoriented and shaken to her core. She didn’t know where she was or what to do. The absolutely peaceful moment just a few seconds before was completely gone. With a jolt, she sat up in bed, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she struggled to make sense of what had just happened. The room around her was eerily quiet, the only sound the steady rhythm of her own heartbeat echoing in her ears.

She looked around and recognised the black and white room that was already incredibly familiar to her. It was just a dream. And for a brief, disorienting moment, she clung to the hope that the whole evening yesterday had also been a figment of her imagination, a trick of the mind brought on by the stress of the upcoming Eurovision Song Contest. But as the reality of her surroundings triggered the events of the previous day to come flooding back to her - the party, the performance, her own unsettling thoughts - she knew deep down that this was no mere dream. Only the image of her husband, the feeling of comfort of his presence that seemed like something from the past, was truly a fantasy.

With a heavy sigh, Ana buried her face in her hands, feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing down upon her. Whether she wanted it or not, the frustration came back again too and gnawed at Ana’s insides.
This wasn’t the first time Cornelia had haunted her in her dreams. Each time, it felt like a betrayal, a confirmation of the very thing she had so long denied. And yet, with each dream, the walls she had built around her heart seemed to crumble a little more, leaving her feeling exposed. Vulnerable. Weak. Confused. And she despised it. Konstrakta was cool, relaxed, serious and always knew what she wanted.  That couldn’t change now.

With a sigh, she pushed back the covers and rose from the bed, getting ready for today’s rehearsal. The Eurovision Song Contest awaited and she needed to focus.

-

The huge are of the Inalpi Arena stretched out before Konstrakta as she purposefully and confidently stepped onto the stage. With each rehearsal, she realised more and more how much she actually enjoyed this. This was her moment, her chance to show her song to Europe or even to the world, and she wasn’t about to let anything stand in her way.

As she glanced around the arena, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe at the sheer extent of the event. More than 13,000 people could fill this space, and you could tell that there was an underlying current of nervous energy humming through the air. Some of the representatives of the other countries, sat in the front row, their eyes fixed on the stage, watching their fellow campaigners performance and waiting for their own turn.

But Konstrakta remained concentrated, her focus unwavering as she prepared to give her all to the rehearsal. With a confident stride, she approached the center of the stage, the spotlight casting her in. For Konstrakta, rehearsal was more than just going through the motions - it was a chance to fine-tune every aspect of her performance, to ensure that when the moment of truth arrived, she would be ready. She wished she could prepare herself for all things in life like she could for this performance. That no matter how unexpected or unforeseen it was, she could always be prepared and ready.

In the dim light of the stage, Konstrakta’s focus narrowed as she prepared to immerse herself in her performance. The spotlights overhead cast dazzling beams that momentarily blinded her, so she could see nothing but darkness with bright white spots for a few seconds.

“Konstrakta! We’re ready to start,” called out a voice from the technical team, pulling her attention back to the task at hand. With a steadying breath, she took her place in the chair, the familiar bowl of water in front of her. She briefly touched her ear again to test whether both her in-ears were sitting well. This was a kind of ritual she always did before a performance began. She was ready.

Onas eroproc ni somrefne snem

As the music began, Konstrakta’s voice filled the air. With her head slightly lowered, she delivered the opening lines with a focus that bordered on trance-like, her gaze fixed on an unseen horizon. Her whole performance was an immersion into another world. There was no song like hers. Not even similar.

Koja li je tajna zdrave kose Meghan Markle?
Koja li je tajna?
Koja li je tajna zdrave kose Meghan Markle?
Koja li je tajna?

The few people in the audience watched in rapt attention, completely captivated by Konstrakta’s presence on stage. They all had a kind of feeling that Konstrakta would definitely make it to the final. Everything seemed to be going perfectly.

Bože zdravlja, Bože zdravlja, Bože zdravlja
Nemam knjižicu...

Now came the part of the song where the light changed completely. The normal bright spotlights went out completely and a dark red light flooded the whole arena. Her eyes quickly became accustomed to the light and thanks to the few seconds without text, she had a brief chance to let her eyes wander around the room. Out of the corner of her eye, Konstrakta caught a glimpse of movement in the red darkness below. She knew that at this point the camera would later capture the whole stage and was not aimed directly at her face. So she narrowed her eyes briefly and then all of a sudden Konstrakta’s heart skipped a beat.

There in the front row, short blonde hair shone even through the red light. But what shone and glittered even more were the thousands of little stones hanging down from the person’s short dark grey top. Konstrakta couldn’t see her face, but what she had seen in the few milliseconds was enough to identify the person. Her mind raced as she struggled to concentrate, the sight of the woman in the audience sending a ripple through her veins that felt like tiny ants running on her wrist. For a brief moment, she felt transported back to the moments they had shared - their conversations, the walk, the museum, last night.

But as the music continued to swell around her, in a sudden rush of panic, she realized that she had forgotten her lines - the words she had rehearsed countless times and knew by heart forwards and backwards. She struggled to regain her composure, but the lyrics remained stubbornly out of reach. It was a rare occurrence for someone as disciplined and focused as her, and the realization only added to her sense of disorientation.

Nothing and no one had ever thrown her off her stride like that before. Even when a spotlight had fallen down during one of her earlier concerts, she had continued to sing. But there was another feeling. This had probably been the first time that the Swede had seen her performance. She had caught exactly a few seconds of it and then she, Konstrakta, had actually completely messed it up. Well, that was a very good first impression. It frustrated her beyond belief. Almost embarrassing. The music stopped.

“Shall we start again from the beginning?” came the technician’s voice from the loudspeaker again.

“Yes, I’m sorry. Please do.” said Konstrakta through clenched teeth.