Love Is Symphony |✓

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Growing up, I had always been fond of Cinderella's story. A meek and uncertain woman with such undeniable beauty who traveled far to finally meet her prince at a glamorous ball. Yet despite the dark past and the skinned knees that had been kissing the floors all morning, she turned out to be the most beautiful of them all. She left her prince after midnight, her eyes brimming with tears of regret and uncertainty, but she came back to the palace as a glorified princess. But that was a fairy tale; Cinderella was a dream. Because in my own story, I wasn't the prettiest of them all.

I was simply a woman with a wounded but hopeful heart, walking up the stairs of a high-end club in her borrowed heels that were a size too big. I was just Serenity, and this could never be a sweet dream; for my reality was bitter and pale in comparison to a princess's success story.

A line of photographers were outside, cameras with bright lights clicking away at anything that moved. But they paid me no attention. The red lanyard that had the word assistant in bright yellow weren't really of any importance to them. If only they knew. I shook my head, pushing the thought out of my head. I came here to support you, my love. Nothing more.

The bouncers pushed opened the glass doors after one quick look at the identification card that hung from my neck and a stern nod. The cold air from the air-condition pricked at my skin and the loud music that was obscured and muffled by the glass greeted me. I shivered, goosebumps appearing on the length of my arms and I hugged myself.  My eyes took in the interior of The Hierarchy, one of the most sought-after clubs in the heart of Los Angeles. It was known for its talented bartenders and VIP customers, and my mouth hung in awe. In just a span of ten hours, Miranda's team and planners have changed the club into a huge party. I was here just hours ago, listening to Cherry's instructions on where I should stand and position myself. It was remarkably a different place. 

The natural morning light that seeped into the room this morning was now laser lights in bright colors that  flickered all around us, touching the glistening skin of dancing bodies that were pressed up close. The bar was full and two bartenders were throwing bottles in the air in such fluid precision and artistry, in rhythm with the DJ's song. A small round stage was set up front, emphasized under the bright yellow spotlight, but one thing caught my attention the most. It was a huge velvet, purple love-seat—the center of it all. The very same seat you and Miranda would be sitting on just a few minutes from now.

My stomach clenched at the thought of seeing you two huddled up together in front of everyone that you both loved while I stood from the sidelines as an audience, pretending to be completely moved by the love that would be oozing from your eyes. I looked away and tried to find relief in anything, even from the gray textured wall I was leaning against.

It was a surprise. Dub-step music could actually calm down a drumming heart.

"Ow!"

My head snapped to my left and the smile that was slowly forming on my face disappeared as fast as lightning, replaced by a startled gasp as I watched a young woman with dark brown hair furiously dab on the bodice of her white body-con dress where a soft pink color was beginning to seep and spread into one ugly blotch.

"My dress!" she cried, her lower lip stretched into a pout. "It's ruined!"

"I'm so sorry!" I quickly pulled a handkerchief out of my purse and tried to wipe the stain off her dress, but she pushed my hand away.

"Stop it! You're only making it worse." She shifted her small body away from but remained rooted to her spot, wiping down as much juice as she can. I instantly felt guilty. I shouldn't have been blocking the way, but I was too busy drowning in my insecurities to remember where I was standing.