Fallen, Falling. | Anthony Ramos.

Chapter 1 - Opening Night.

NAOMI STOOD BACKSTAGE, clutching the script to her chest as she repeatedly whispered her lines. The buzz of motion around her was deafening - stagehands shouting cues, ensemble members practicing choreography in tight clusters, and the projection of voices from the stage floor.

The hum of the packed audience rolled through the walls of the theater like a distant storm, the anticipation crackling in the air. Naomi stood backstage, heart pounding, hands gripping the folds of her dress. The soft lavender fabric felt delicate under her fingers, a stark contrast to the weight of what tonight meant.

Opening night.

For weeks, they had rehearsed under the harsh and unforgiving heat of the spotlights, refining every scene, every movement. Now with the lights dimming, Naomi felt the enormity of what she was about to step into.

Hamilton: An American Musical. The bolded title was at the top of the page just above her role name - Theodosia Burr. Or as many people know her, Philip Hamilton's forbidden love.

It all still didn't feel real.

"You good?" came a voice from her left. Naomi turned, blinking, to see Sarah, one of the wardrobe assistants giving her a sympathetic smile.

"You look like you're gonna faint."

Naomi let out a shaky laugh. "Is it that obvious?"

Sarah grinned. "Only to those of us who've been there."

"Right," Naomi said, but her voice was barely audible. The truth was the weight of being on Broadway was almost too much. Not many people expected her to have the depth and experience the others had. Most of them were practically veterans at this point.

She had only just finished her first regional performance this last year.

The pressure felt as if it was alive, wrapping around her throat, squeezing.

The thrill and terror swirled together leaving her standing frozen at the beginning of something huge.

"Look," Sarah said, gently rubbing at Naomi's shoulders in a sense of comfort. "You've worked so hard for this, I've seen it myself. Just remember that it's about showing a story, not perfecting it."

Naomi nodded, appreciating the support. "Thanks. I just don't wanna mess it up, you know?

The lights backstage flickered, a reminder that the performance was about to begin. Naomi closed her eyes and took a deep breath, pulling in the familiar scent of the theater - dust, old velvet, the faint smell of something sweet, like caramelized sugar from the concession stand.

She loved that smell. It was home.

"Naomi, you're on in five," the stage manager called.

Naomi's tummy twisted, this was it. Her time was now. Straightening herself, she glanced at the unfolded script in her hand, letting her mind loose before handing it to Sarah. She was ready.

Showtime.