Page 129 of Healing Eleanor

Act I begins, and Eleanor keeps pace. Technically, she dances well, but her face betrays her. She isn’t channeling Odette’s grief or fragility. It’s her own pain.

Kasper watches her with unwavering focus. He studies her like a hawk, dissecting each movement.

By Act II, my stomach is in knots. Between Lily’s uncharacteristic solemnity and Eleanor’s fading strength, I can feel everything unraveling. Kasper notices too; his eyes keep darting to me, one brow arched in a silent promise: We’re going to talk about this.

Act III arrives, Gabriel and Eleanor stepping into place for their pas de deux—the section that’s haunted her from the start. Panic crawls up my chest.

The first half passes without disaster, though I notice the tremors in her limbs, her body fighting just to stay upright. Still, she pushes forward, her jaw clenched in determination.

Then come the lifts.

I bite my tongue so hard I taste blood. First lift. Second. Spin. Third. Fourth. She’s hanging on by sheer willpower, until the fifth spin. My heart stops.

It all unfolds in slow motion. Gabriel’s hands grips her waist, steady but not enough to stop what’s happening. Eleanor’s body gives out, her head lolling, knees buckling, like she’s dizzy and slips from consciousness.

Gasps erupt around the studio as Gabriel lunges to catch her, lowering her awkwardly to the floor. I’m already moving, but Russell reaches her first.

Lily, Dillon, and half the company crowd in, the air thick with fear.

“Back up—give her space!” Russell commands, his voice cutting through the chaos. He and Gabriel prop Eleanor into a sitting position. Her face is pale as paper.

“Eleanor, can you hear me?” Russell asks, his tone laced with real worry.

She manages a faint nod, her hand pressing to her temple as she squeezes her eyes shut.

“Someone get water!” Russell barks, his voice slicing through the chatter.

Before I can move, Lily darts forward, thrusting a bottle into his hands. “Here—Eleanor, drink this.”

Eleanor’s fingers tremble as she accepts it, barely lifting it to her lips. She manages only a few shallow sips before letting it drop limply into her lap.

The studio is deathly quiet, everyone watching.

And then Kasper’s eyes lock on mine across the room. Cold and knowing.

“Everyone, break. Fifteen minutes.” His voice cuts through the room.

Dancers shuffle toward the exit, casting quick, worried glances at Eleanor as they leave.

Lily, Gabriel, and Dillon kneel beside her.

“If you don’t mind, we’d like to stay,” Dillon says, eyes on Kasper.

Kasper’s expression is unreadable, his tone flat and lethal. “No. I need everyone out. Now.”

The three exchange a glance, silently weighing their options, before rising and slipping out quietly.

Now it’s just Kasper, Russell, Eleanor… and me.

My body shivers with adrenaline. I approach slowly. Sweat glistens on her temples, her skin ghostly pale, her hands shaking.

Russell holds the water bottle to her lips. “You need to drink, Eleanor.”

She takes tiny sips, lethargy dragging at every movement.

All I want is to scoop her up, carry her far from here, and beg her to love herself. To take care of herself. But I can’t. And the helplessness is like a knife to my chest.

“I’m sorry,” Eleanor whispers. “I skipped breakfast… because of nerves.”