Stories of Destiny

Broadway Baby pt. 2

Beyoncé sat at the kitchen table, her phone screen glowing in the dim light as Michelle's voice filled the air. The video she watched was one she had replayed countless times, and yet it still captivated her. Michelle, dressed in her Viola Van Horn costume, bathed in soft purple lights, looked ethereal. The deep, rich fabric of her outfit shimmered with every movement, enhancing her already regal presence.

Michelle looked like she belonged there, Beyoncé thought—on that stage, in that world. It was where she shone brightest, and Beyoncé couldn't deny how much joy it brought her to see Michelle in her element again. The power and clarity of her voice, the passion in her eyes, and the grace in her movements—it was all perfection.

But the joy Beyoncé felt came with an undercurrent of sadness. Watching Michelle like this, through a screen, felt so impersonal. These performances, accessible to the entire world, offered nothing just for her. No private moments, no whispered words meant for her ears alone. For so long, she had grown used to being on the inside of Michelle's world. Now, she was just another spectator. The thought stung, and that familiar ache in her chest threatened to rise again.

Suddenly, Blue Ivy's voice interrupted her thoughts. "You know, Mama, I'm convinced you're obsessed with that video," Blue said, walking into the kitchen with a teasing grin. "You've been watching it more than Rumi sings it."

Beyoncé chuckled, remembering how her youngest daughter had taken to bouncing around the house, singing snippets of Michelle's Broadway songs, even though she barely knew the lyrics.

"It's not like that," Beyoncé said, shaking her head. "The show's just... new. It's very intriguing."

Blue raised a skeptical brow. "Uh-huh. I'm sure that's not the only thing you find intriguing," she quipped, smirking as she grabbed a glass of water.

Blue sat down at the table beside her mother and the woman playfully nudged her. "Stay out of grown folks' business."

Before the conversation could continue, Jay-Z strolled into the kitchen. His ears immediately caught the sound of Michelle's voice, and he sighed, exasperated but amused. "You still listening to that? Haven't you gotten sick of that video yet?"

Beyoncé's jaw tightened. She didn't bother hiding her annoyance at his presence. The sound of his voice grated on her in a way Michelle's never could. Hearing Michelle's voice, even through a phone, was a balm, a reminder of something precious and irreplaceable. Hearing Jay's voice, by contrast, felt like an irritating obligation she couldn't escape.

"I'll never get tired of it," Beyoncé said firmly, her tone clipped. "In fact, I want to see it live."

Jay chuckled, leaning against the counter. "What's the plan, Bey? You gonna trap her on stage? 'Cause if she sees you in the crowd, you know she'll run away."

Beyoncé's glare was sharp enough to cut glass, but she masked her hurt. His words hit too close to home. Everyone in the Knowles family had seen it—Michelle's growing distance, her tendency to flee at the first sight of Beyoncé. Their once-tight bond had become strained, and Beyoncé wasn't handling it well.

The memories of Michelle walking out without a word, of her refusing to come to gatherings at Beyoncé's house, flooded her mind. The most painful moment was when Kelly had to lie about Beyoncé being present, and Michelle still left the second she spotted her. Each time, it felt like another knife in her chest, and she wasn't sure how much more she could take.

Jay's voice pulled her back. "Why don't you just apologize for whatever you did to her?" he asked casually, as if it were that simple.

Beyoncé snapped back, "It's not something I did. It's you. She can't stand that I'm married to you."