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I can't allow myself to be consumed by emotions for someone who might not even care, someone who I just met. I have to be more cautious and protect my heart from the inevitable pain that comes with such vulnerability.
"Focus on today," I murmur to myself, forcing my thoughts away from Philippe and onto the tasks ahead. If he doesn't want to be part of my life, then I need to continue living it without him. It's easier said than done, but I'm determined.
I step into the shower, letting the hot water wash over me, trying to cleanse my body and mind of the lingering sadness. As I towel off and dress, I remind myself of the reasons I chose this path – my passion for music, the joy of performing, and the satisfaction of knowing I've given everything I have to reach my dreams. These are the things that should consume my thoughts, not a man I barely know.
With one final look at myself, I decide to get downstairs for some breakfast before heading into the studio for a day’s practice.
I walk into the kitchen, still trying to shake off my thoughts of Philippe by focusing my thoughts on my upcoming practice schedule, and find my parents already seated at the table.
They're pouring over the newspaper. Their shoulders are tense, their expressions grave, but I can't quite put my finger on what's wrong.
"Morning," I greet them, trying to sound casual as I pour myself a cup of coffee.
"Good morning, sweetheart," my mom replies, her voice strained. She forces a smile, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.
"Everything okay?" I ask, concern gnawing at me.
"Of course, dear," my dad answers, taking a sip of his coffee. "We're just... Congratulations sweetheart! Your talent has finally been recognized, thanks to your hard work and Mr. Thorne’s guidance."
I walk over and see what they're reading. There, staring at me, is an image of myself on the Met Philadelphia stage, dazzling and beautiful. It's a feature of how incredible my performance, as a virtually unknown newcomer in the opera scene, was. It predicts great things just waiting for me on the horizon.
I gasp and look at my parents, utterly excited. "Mom, Dad, this would open so many doors!" I squeal.
They both smile, but there's a hidden worry behind their eyes. I wonder why. "Are you," I question, "not happy?"
"Oh, sweetheart," my mom takes my hand in hers. "We are so very proud of you and incredulously happy. But it's just..." She doesn't finish her sentence, looking at my dad.
"We just worry about you, sweetheart. We worry the pressure might get to be too much. You already work so hard, and with more attention, you might be working even harder. Not to mention, it can't be safe getting so much attention at such a young age."
I raise an eyebrow skeptically, not entirely convinced. But before I can say anything more, my phone buzzes in my pocket. The name 'Martin T' flashes on the screen, and I can't help but feel a surge of excitement. Martin, my manager – when he calls, it usually means something big.
"Excuse me," I say, stepping away from the table to answer. "Hey, Martin. What's going on?"
"Tatiana!" he exclaims, barely containing his enthusiasm. "You won't believe this. You've been invited to perform at the prestigious Mariinsky Theater in Saint Petersburg, Russia! People in the scene have been raving about your performance, and word is spreading across the world."
My heart skips a beat, and I press the phone closer to my ear, unwilling to miss a single word. "Are you serious? That's amazing!"
"Absolutely serious! It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. This performance is going to be legendary – the most beautiful showon earth! We need to start preparing right away. Can you make it?"
"Of course!" I reply without hesitation, my previous sadness now replaced by sheer eagerness. "When do we leave?"
"Two weeks," he says firmly. "I'll send you all the details. Congratulations, Tatiana! This is going to be a game-changer for your career."
"Thank you, Martin," I say, my voice trembling with emotion. "I can't wait."
From the corner, my parents watch me curiously, their concerns momentarily forgotten.
"Everything alright?" my dad asks, his eyes searching mine for answers.
"Martin, hold on," I say, turning to my parents. "Better than alright," I tell them, unable to contain my excitement. "I've been invited to perform at the Mariinsky Theater in Saint Petersburg, Russia!"
"Russia?" My mom’s face turns pale, her concern immediately returning. "Isn't that... dangerous?"
"Mom, it's an amazing opportunity," I assure her. "It's one of the most prestigious venues in the world. I have to go. Martin will take good care of me, like always. We promise."
For now, my thoughts are focused on this incredible chance to showcase my talent and passion on a stage that has hosted some of the greatest performers in history. And maybe, just maybe, I'll find some answers about my birth mother while I'm there – a deeper connection to the woman who brought me into this world and a glimpse into the homeland I've never known.
But first, I need to convince my doting adoptive parents that I can handle this journey on my own and that their fears, while well-intended, shouldn’t hold me back from embracing my destiny.
