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The air hummed with soft music and murmurs from the elegantly dressed crowd.

Golden chandeliers cast a warm glow across the spacious ballroom, with crystal glasses clinking as guests moved about, draped in gowns and tailored suits.

Tonight's gala was a grand affair, hosted in support of local arts, and while it was meant to celebrate all forms of performance, Amara Taylor knew that eyes would be on her.

She inhaled deeply, her fingers trembling as she tightened the laces of her skates in the narrow backstage hallway.

This was her first gala performance-a chance to prove herself to the local elite, to capture the attention of people who could help her career soar.

But more than that, she wanted to show herself that all the sacrifices had been worth it.

With one last breath to steady herself, she pushed the door open and glided onto the makeshift ice rink, the sound of applause washing over her.

She forced herself to focus, scanning the audience with a quick, determined glance.

That's when her gaze fell on a figure near the back-a tall man with dark hair, dressed in a crisp suit, arms folded as he observed the scene with a calm detachment. He didn't blend in like everyone else; his presence seemed to demand attention.

She recognized him instantly: Liam Blackwell, the businessman who seemed to appear on every magazine cover she'd seen in the past year. If he was watching, then everyone was.

A shiver ran down her spine, and she took a breath, willing her legs not to wobble.

She'd trained for this, prepared for this. Amara lifted her arms gracefully, signaling the start of her routine. The music began to swell, and her body moved instinctively, each glide and spin in perfect time. With every move, she felt herself getting lost in the rhythm, finding solace in the familiar. She was skating for herself, not for the crowd, not for him.

The crowd hushed as she approached the most difficult part of her routine: a triple axel she'd been perfecting for months. She glided backward, building speed, her skates slicing across the ice in a smooth, practiced line. Amara could feel her muscles coil, preparing for the jump. She pushed off, spinning in the air with a fierce elegance, gravity falling away for a split second as she twisted mid-flight.

But something went wrong.

Her timing slipped just slightly-a fraction of a second-and the moment she was airborne, she knew it wasn't right. Her body twisted, fighting to realign, but it was too late. She came down hard, her skate hitting the ice at an awkward angle, and she crashed to the ground, the sharp impact shooting pain through her knee.

A gasp rippled through the crowd, and for a brief, harrowing moment, Amara was frozen, her heart pounding as she stared down at the ice beneath her. Her cheeks burned, her entire body numb except for the fierce ache in her leg. The murmurs grew louder, mingling with polite, uncertain applause.

Without daring to look at the audience, Amara scrambled to her feet, her face flushed with humiliation.

She avoided meeting anyone's eyes, especially his, and quickly skated to the edge of the rink. She barely managed to catch her breath before slipping through the side door, away from the onlookers. Once outside, she tore off her skates, yanked on her sneakers, and pushed open the exit door that led into the empty back alley.

The cold night air bit into her skin, harsh against the beads of sweat on her forehead, but she barely felt it over the sick feeling twisting in her stomach.

This was supposed to be her night-a stepping stone to bigger things.

Instead, she'd fallen in front of the city's most influential people, and Liam Blackwell himself had witnessed her failure.

She could almost see the headline now: The Rising Star Who Fell.

She leaned against the wall, her hands trembling. Her dream felt farther away than ever.

"Amara."

The quiet voice startled her, pulling her out of her thoughts. She turned sharply, her breath catching as she saw him-Liam Blackwell, his expression unreadable, standing just a few feet away in the narrow alley. How had he even found her?

"You... followed me?" she managed, her voice a mix of confusion and anger.

He inclined his head slightly, his gaze steady. "I saw you leave in a hurry."

"Well, you didn't need to," she snapped, folding her arms across her chest in an attempt to shield herself from his scrutiny. "I don't need pity."

He raised an eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth twitched, almost as if he found her defiance amusing. "I wasn't offering any."

The statement hung in the air, taking her by surprise. She'd expected empty platitudes or well-meaning, patronizing words, but not... this. Not the calm, direct way he was looking at her.

He took a step closer, his voice low. "Do you know why I'm here tonight?"

She frowned, trying to process the question. "I... I don't know. To watch people fall?" she asked bitterly.

A hint of a smile tugged at his lips. "I'm here because I appreciate talent. And I saw it in you tonight-despite the fall."

Despite the fall. The words lingered in the cold air, and something about them softened the knot in her chest. She studied his face, searching for any sign of condescension, but there was only sincerity in his eyes, a steadiness she hadn't expected.

"You don't understand," she whispered, the vulnerability slipping through. "That was my chance. People like you don't remember skaters who fall."

Liam's gaze didn't waver. "People like me remember skaters who get back up."

She swallowed, his words landing heavier than she'd anticipated. For a moment, she was silent, wrestling with her pride, her embarrassment. Then, unable to bear the raw honesty between them, she looked away. "Thank you... I guess."

He nodded, but he didn't move. His presence lingered, steady, unshaken by her hesitation. "Amara," he said, his tone softer this time, "don't let one fall define you. Trust me when I say that setbacks can be your greatest strength if you let them."

She let his words sink in, her heartbeat beginning to slow. Something about his quiet confidence, the way he seemed to see right through her defenses, made it harder to hold onto her anger. And maybe, deep down, she knew he was right.

Without another word, Liam gave her a final nod and walked away, his footsteps fading into the night. She watched him go, still leaning against the wall, his words echoing in her mind. People like him remembered skaters who got back up.

Maybe tonight hadn't been her defining moment after all-but the journey wasn't over. And as she looked up at the dim stars above, she felt the smallest spark of hope rekindling, her determination returning as quietly as it had left

For now, that was enough.