Seventys Glory We Shall Never Meet Again

The spotlight crashed down.

I didn't think. I threw myself over the props, and the metal frame split my head open. Blood flooded my vision instantly, hot and blinding.

Behind the curtain, Julian Henson was dabbing sweat from Madison Barnes's forehead and holding a water bottle to the junior dancer's lips.

My skull throbbed, each pulse sending fresh agony radiating down my spine. Cold sweat drenched my back. The world tilted, blurred at the edges.

The man I loved didn't spare me a single glance.

He was too busy kneeling beside Madison, gently kneading her ankle.