Stories of Destiny

Broadway Baby pt. 1

This has five parts because why not? I love me some DC3

Michelle used to be deeply bothered by how easily she became a target for speculation and judgment simply because she wasn't always where her old group members were. It baffled her how people seemed to think her worth and relevance were tied to proximity—if she wasn't seen with them, it was interpreted as proof that she no longer mattered. That pressure weighed on her for a long time, and for a while, she even began to internalize it. But now, with some distance, she realized just how silly the whole thing was.

They were her former group members, after all. No one was obligated to stick together forever, traveling the same road, appearing in front of the same cameras, or prioritizing the same things. They all had separate lives now—lives they deserved to live without the suffocating expectation of always dropping everything to "save face" or maintain a false image.

Michelle had already come to terms with the fact that Kelly and Beyoncé were bound to be seen together more often. It made sense—they had grown up together, shared deeper roots, and genuinely enjoyed each other's company. They had no problem rearranging their lives to be near one another, and Michelle never begrudged them for that. She even admired their bond. But she didn't desire that same type of closeness; it was far too much for her at times. Michelle had always been more independent, and she loved having time to herself.

Looking back, she admitted that while she was in the group, she had lost touch with that part of herself. She had grown far too dependent on others—leaning on her groupmates in ways that, in hindsight, probably weren't healthy. That phase of her life left her feeling a little broken, and it had taken a while to claw her way back to herself. Even now, she was still a work in progress. But she was proud of the progress she had made.

These days, she didn't need constant communication or reassurance. She didn't need to hear anyone's voice nearly every day or see those familiar, beautiful faces. She didn't need the comfort of their presence or even the sweet trace of perfume that used to linger when they were around. She had detached herself from them—not out of bitterness, but out of necessity—and poured her energy into something new.

That "something new" came in the form of Death Becomes Her, a Broadway production she never imagined she'd be a part of. Michelle hadn't graced the Broadway stage in years, and her last experience there had ended with a breakdown that still haunted her. The idea of returning was terrifying. The role itself—a witch—felt like a leap outside her comfort zone. On top of that, she knew some Christians would be quick to condemn her, armed with think pieces accusing her of selling her soul to the devil.

Back then, this would have bothered her. Hell, it did bother her. But Michelle had reached a point where fear no longer had the final say in her decisions. She took the role because she was tired of shrinking back, tired of letting opportunities pass her by. And, admittedly, eight shows a week gave her the perfect excuse to avoid engaging with certain people. It wasn't about running away, another habit she had yet to break; it was about moving forward.

Broadway was her fresh start, one of many. It was a chance to reclaim her independence, challenge herself, and rediscover the parts of her identity she had let slip away. And for the first time in a long while, Michelle felt like she was stepping into her own light again.

Unfortunately, two shadows from her past refused to let her be.

"You know people wouldn't be asking where the hell you are so much if you would just hang out with us, right?"

Michelle glared at her phone, where Kelly's face filled the screen. She had been persistent today—blowing up Michelle's phone repeatedly, despite it being a big day for her. The premiere of Death Becomes Her on Broadway should have been her only focus, but Kelly had made herself an unavoidable distraction.