a long way/ Elizabeth Olsen x female reader

Chapter six

your pov:
The next day, I couldn't shake off Elizabeth's words. They echoed in my mind during every rehearsal, making it hard to concentrate. I knew I couldn't let her intimidate me, but it was easier said than done. The pressure was mounting, and I was starting to doubt myself.

We were given a new task—each of us had to perform a solo piece of our choice, something that would showcase our unique style and strengths. It was an opportunity to stand out, but it also meant that every mistake would be magnified.

I spent hours deciding on the right piece. I wanted something that would not only impress Mrs. Lewis but also express who I was as an artist. Finally, I settled on Debussy's "Clair de Lune." It was a piece I'd always connected with, one that allowed me to pour my emotions into every note.

As the day of the solo performances approached, I noticed something strange. Elizabeth was practicing even more than usual, but there was something different about her playing. It was almost as if she was trying too hard, forcing the music instead of letting it flow naturally. It was subtle, but I could sense the tension in her playing.

On the morning of the performance, I arrived at the theater with my heart pounding in my chest. The stage was set, and the finalists were seated in the front row, waiting for their turn. I watched as each of them performed, their skills undeniable. Eric's piece was technically flawless, Logan's was powerful, and Ivy's was beautifully delicate.

Then it was Elizabeth's turn. She walked up to the piano with her usual confidence, but I could see the slight tremor in her hands as she began to play. The piece she chose was incredibly complex, a Liszt etude that required both technical precision and emotional depth.

As she played, I could tell something was off. There were moments where her fingers seemed to falter, where the music didn't quite resonate the way it should have. It was still impressive, but it lacked the effortless brilliance she usually displayed.

When she finished, there was polite applause, but I noticed Mrs. Lewis's expression—it was thoughtful, almost concerned. Elizabeth returned to her seat, her face blank, but I could see the frustration simmering beneath the surface.

Finally, it was my turn. I took a deep breath and walked to the piano. The lights felt blinding as I sat down, and for a moment, all I could hear was the pounding of my own heart. I placed my fingers on the keys and closed my eyes, letting the first notes of "Clair de Lune" wash over me.

As I played, the world around me seemed to fade away. The music flowed through me, each note carrying a piece of my soul. I wasn't just playing for Mrs. Lewis or the judges—I was playing for myself, for the dream I'd nurtured for so long.

When the final note hung in the air, I slowly opened my eyes. The room was silent, and for a terrifying second, I thought I'd made a mistake. But then the applause began, hesitant at first, then growing louder. I looked up and saw Mrs. Lewis smiling—an actual smile.

I returned to my seat, my heart still racing, but there was a new feeling—a sense of accomplishment. Whatever happened next, I knew I'd given it my all.

As the day ended, Mrs. Lewis called us all together. "You've all done well," she said, her voice carrying a rare warmth. "But remember, this is just the beginning. There's more to come."

As we left the theater, Elizabeth caught up with me. For a moment, I thought she might say something snide, but instead, she just looked at me, her expression unreadable. "You played well today, Y/N," she said, her voice devoid of its usual sharpness.

"Thanks, you too," I replied, unsure of what to make of her sudden change in demeanor.

She nodded, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—uncertainty, maybe even doubt. As she walked away, I realized that the competition wasn't just affecting me. Elizabeth, the girl who seemed so invincible, was feeling the pressure too.

And that's when it hit me—this wasn't just about who was the best pianist. It was about who could handle the pressure, who could keep their composure in the face of uncertainty. And in that moment, I knew that the real challenge was just beginning.