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The tech run stumbled forward, each clumsy scene feeling like an eternity to Genevieve. She stood at the edge of the stage, her eyes darting between the struggling understudy and her silent phone. Mara was doing her best, but her performance lacked the confident fire and the raw emotion that Eden brought to the role. It was like watching a pale imitation, a charcoal sketch where there should have been a vibrant oil painting.
Genevieve's gaze flicked to the front row, where Mr. Harrington sat with an increasingly sour expression, deep creases running down either side of his thin mouth and into his jowls. Beside him, Sammy alternated between scribbling furious notes and shooting concerned glances her way. She could practically feel their disappointment radiating toward her in noxious waves.
"Take five for the intermission, everyone," Genevieve called out, barely masking her choked panic at how this day was turning out. As the cast reset, she retreated to the wings, pulling out her phone once more.
No messages. No missed calls. Nothing.
She exhaled a pained sigh, closing her eyes for a moment to compose herself before striding back into the open. When sheturned, she found Sammy standing before her, his expression a mix of worry and fury.
"Gen, a word?" he asked, though his tone made it clear it wasn't a request.
With a curt nod to the stage manager to continue, Genevieve followed Sammy into the relative privacy of the hallway.
"What the hell is going on?" Sammy demanded as soon as they were out of earshot. "Where is Eden? And don't tell me she's just running late. It's been hours."
Genevieve ran a hand through her hair, a rare display of uncertainty. "I don't know, Sammy. I've been trying to reach her, but she's not answering her phone."
"This is unacceptable," Sammy hissed. "Do you have any idea how this looks? Mr. Harrington is ready to pull the plug on the whole production. I took a huge risk with this show, Genevieve. I let you be when I got the sense you were off your game somehow, trusted you to have it handled. And now our lead actress has vanished into thin air on tech day?"
"I know, I know," Genevieve said, struggling to draw breath around the lump in her throat. "But Eden wouldn't just disappear without a reason. Something must have happened."
Sammy blinked a few times, digesting her words as if he could hardly believe what he was hearing. Genevieve Howard has never been heard making excuses for other people’s failures. "Something like what? What aren't you telling me, Genevieve? No bullshit."
For a moment, Genevieve considered confessing everything to this exuberant man she knew thought of her as a friend. The secret hookups, Eden's declaration of love, her own conflicted feelings. But the words stuck in her throat. How could she explain something she barely understood herself? How could she admit that it was all her fault it had gone sideways?
"Nothing," she said finally. "There's nothing to tell. Eden is dedicated to this role. To this production. Whatever's keeping her away, it must be serious."
Sammy studied her face for a long while, clearly unconvinced. "Fix this," he said finally. "Whatever it takes. We can't afford any more setbacks."
As he turned to head back into the theatre, Genevieve leaned against the wall, suddenly exhausted. She pulled out her phone again, staring at the still-blank screen.
"Where are you?" she whispered, her voice breaking slightly.
Just then, she heard voices approaching from around the corner. She straightened up, ready to put on her professional mask once more. But as the words became clearer, she froze.
"I reckon she’s had a meltdown," one voice said, low and conspiratorial. "You’ve seen the way Genevieve criticizes her when she’s not absolutely perfect. The pressure must’ve gotten to the poor girl."
"No way," another voice replied. "Eden? She always seemed so put together. She’s a pro."
"Well, you know what they say about mixing business and pleasure," the first voice continued. "I always thought there was something going on between those two."
Genevieve’s hand flew to her mouth to smother her gasp. How had they found out? Had Eden said something? Or had they simply been less discreet than they'd thought?
"Shh," a third voice hissed. "Don’t let anyone hear you say that. No one wants to work with a gossip."
Genevieve quickly composed herself as a group of stagehands rounded the corner. They nodded to her nervously before hurrying past, their gossip session silenced by her presence.
As their footsteps faded, Genevieve leaned back against the wall, her mind spinning like a cyclone hurling debris in vicious circles. How many of them were thinking the same? That sheand Eden had had some sort of lovers' quarrel? The irony of it nearly made her laugh. If only they knew the truth - that it wasn't a fight that had driven Eden away, but a moment of pure, intimate bliss. And Genevieve's own cowardice.
She thought back to that moment on the stage, to the look in Eden's eyes as she'd whispered those three fateful words. "I love you." So simple, so honest. And what had Genevieve done? She'd run away, too scared to face her own feelings, too set in her ways to imagine a future where love and career could coexist.
And now Eden was gone, and the production - her shot at proving herself and securing funding for her student program - was dangling from the most frayed of threads.
Today was a lost cause. A monumental disaster. But they’d get through it and then Genevieve would come up with a plan. She had to find Eden, had to make things right. Not just for the sake of the play, but for her own heart.
With renewed determination, Genevieve strode back into the theatre. The tech run was still crawling toward its conclusion, with Mara's lacklustre delivery a stark reminder
of Eden's absence. Genevieve climbed onto the stage, holding up a hand to stop the proceedings.
