Page 69 of Specters & Spotlights

“Go,” she whispered, and Lark did, rushing out barely in time for her cue.

Elise stood still, the echo of her own heartbeat loud in her ears.

The rain cue came in right on time, soft and rhythmic, the way it always did in the final scene. From her perch in the wings, Elise leaned slightly forward, watching as Nick and Lark climbed the sweeping staircase of the bridge.

Darcy’s second proposal always had a quiet magic to it—the hush of the house, the trembling chords beneath their voices, the bittersweet edge of the moment. Elise had seen this scene play out so many times she could recite it in her sleep.

Nick delivered the final line: “I love you, Elizabeth.”

And then, unexpectedly, he kissed her.

Not a stage kiss. Not the choreographed, carefully angled kind she’d grown used to seeing. This was a real one. Full-on. No shielding hand, no illusion.

Elise blinked. It wasn’t passionate, exactly, but it was definitely… not staged.

The music swelled, the lights faded, and the curtain dropped.

The applause came quick and loud, but Elise was still curious. That wasn’t the usual routine.

Backstage erupted into its usual flurry of post-finale motion. Lark darted past Elise in a blur, heading straight for the costume rack. Her wet dress was already halfway unzipped by the time she reached her mark.

Nick was right behind her, in the process of shedding his wet outer jacket, still flushed from the stage lights and the final scene. “Sorry!” he said in a rush, voice low and sheepish. “I forgot we don’t do the kiss. Total brain slip.”

“You forgot?” Lark hissed, spinning toward him. “Nick, I hate doing the kiss. It’s not in the blocking for a reason.”

Elise blinked, connecting a few quiet dots—the little mystery she’d been puzzling since her first show with this company. Why such a pivotal moment was always handled with sleight of hand rather than sincerity. It had been a boundary. One Lark had drawn—and one Nick, tonight, had accidentally crossed.

But Lark didn’t linger in the frustration. She snapped herself back into her dry dress, let Elise replace her dry updo, and slid on her smile like a mask held in place by stage glue. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter now.”

Nick looked like he wanted to keep apologizing, but thought better of it. A moment later, Lark gave a sharp nod, adjusted her skirts, and extended her arm. They walked together toward the stage, beaming like nothing had happened.

In the distance, Elise heard someone call Nick’s name. A voice from the house, warm and eager. She hoped it was his friend, the one he’d mentioned. She smiled to herself. Hopefully things were looking up for him offstage, too.

Backstage shimmered with post-performance energy, the air thick with laughter, sweat, and residual spotlight glow. Nick moved through it all like a current, catching praise like petals as he passed.

He beamed, all glitter and confidence, but Elise could see the twitch of anticipation beneath it.

“Off to greet your fan club?” she teased, catching him mid-jacket-button.

He shot her a grin. “Fan club of one. And I’m hoping for an encore.”

“Go get him, tiger,” she said, and he tossed her a two-fingered salute as he vanished toward the house.

The backstage energy shifted as the tide thinned.

Elise stayed by her station, methodically placing combs and clips back into their trays. Her fingers were steady, but her mind wasn’t.

In her dressing room, Lark unwound her pin curls in silence. The message was clear—no room for questions. No space for concern.

It could’ve meant nothing. Some actors just preferred quiet after a show. But Elise couldn’t shake the image of that faint, bruise-shaped handprint. The ache of recognition it stirred in her.

She told herself it wasn’t her place. That she didn’t know anything.

But the way her tattoos itched… she wasn’t so sure.

The cast filtered out one by one, their laughter echoing down the hallway as they made their way toward late-night drinks or well-earned sleep. Crew followed soon after, shutting down lights, closing prop trunks, giving casual waves and goodnights.

And then, it was just Elise. Her and the wig.