Chapter 39: I haven’t had my chance
Meanwhile, back in the restroom, panic surged through Anna when the door refused to open.
Her eyes widened, lashes fluttering before her fist slammed frantically against the door.
"HELP... CAN SOMEBODY HEAR ME? HELP!!" she shouted, but her pleas were swallowed by silence.
No one knew Anna carried the invisible weight of an anxiety disorder—a secret she had kept for years. Not her parents, not even her husband back then. The battle had begun in middle school, and it never truly ended.
"PLEASE, SOMEE!" Her fists hammered harder, each slam echoing her desperation. Her breathing grew erratic, chest heaving in short, sharp gasps until dizziness clouded her head and her vision blurred. Still, she didn’t stop.
She couldn’t stop.Not only because she feared the four walls closing in, but because she had a mock test waiting for her. A chance she couldn’t afford to miss. Yet now, another fear crept in—what if she wasn’t ready for it at all?
Suddenly, a memory crashed through her mind like a tidal wave—being locked in that dark storeroom back in school. No light. No air. No escape.
She remembered how one of her classmates had shoved her inside, furious after she dared to stand up to him. She had thought fighting back was the brave thing to do. But it became her nightmare. The staff hadn’t found her for four hours.
Even now, the trauma clawed back to life, wrapping its cold fingers around her chest.
Her breathing turned ragged, her body trembling as weakness spread through her limbs.
"Please... somebody..." Her voice broke, softening to a frail whisper that no one heard.
Her fists slipped from the door. Fear had won, dragging her under.
***
Meanwhile, in the rehearsal room, the audition pressed on. Ethan sat forward, anticipation tightening his jaw as he waited for Anna’s name to be called. Just two more candidates and then—finally—he would see her perform.
Wilsmith waited too, curiosity glinting in his sharp eyes. Daniel’s glowing recommendation had been tempting, but words weren’t enough. He wanted proof. He wanted to see Anna stand on that stage and deliver.
The last time he had laid eyes on her, she had been asleep during a shoot. Hardly impressive. But now... now he wanted to see her awake, alive, and in command of her craft.
Two more hopefuls finished their auditions, and the staff prepared to call Anna forward. Both men leaned in, expectant.
Instead, a stagehand hurried over, his face drained of color.
"Mr. Wilsmith," he whispered, voice low with unease, "Miss Anna is nowhere to be found."
The words froze both men.
"What do you mean she’s nowhere?" Ethan’s voice cut like steel, sharp with disbelief. He had seen her earlier, slipping into the waiting group of girls. A glimpse, yes—but enough to know she had been there.
The staff member shifted uncomfortably under Ethan’s gaze. It wasn’t loud or threatening, but there was a weight to his tone that made the man’s stomach knot.
"Mr. Helmsworth," he stammered, "we’ve been calling her for some time. No response. Some of the girls waiting outside said they saw her leave."
"So she did come." Wilsmith muttered, his lips pressing into a thin line. "I thought she’d forgotten what she promised."
Promise? The word echoed in Ethan’s mind, heavy and unfamiliar. What promise?
But before he could press, Wilsmith exhaled sharply, pulling out his phone. He dialed Anna’s number, raising it to his ear. Seconds stretched. Finally, he lowered it with a grim shake of his head.
"Is she answering?" Ethan asked.
Wilsmith’s jaw flexed. "Out of reach. Maybe she finally gave up." The mutter was bitter, resigned, as he shoved the phone back into his pocket.
The auditions carried on, and Wilsmith tried to focus, jotting notes as a few fresh faces caught his eye.
But Ethan didn’t move, his gaze distant, fists curling against his knees. Anna wouldn’t leave. Not without trying. Not when so much was at stake.
While the two men wrestled with their own thoughts, somewhere outside, Fiona sat calmly in her seat, legs crossed, the picture of poise. The corner of her lips curved into a faint, satisfied smile.
The thought of Anna missing the audition tasted sweeter than victory itself.
’You dared to mock me, Anna. But you forgot—I’m still the same girl who once called you friend.’
She knew Wilsmith’s ways well. He was a man of precision, a director who despised wasted time and refused compromise when it came to discipline. Fiona had spent months trying—and failing—to draw his attention.
But now, with Anna’s absence casting a shadow, Fiona felt herself inching closer to the spotlight. One step away. She would make sure Anna never returned to claim it.
Thud!
The sharp sound of Wilsmith setting his notebook on the table cut through the hall. His brows knitted, his tone clipped and unforgiving.
"I think it’s useless to wait for someone who runs away like a coward."
His words echoed, final and cold. Displeasure was written in every line of his face. He might have been generous enough to offer Anna a chance, but she had refused to seize it.
Ethan glanced at the clock, tension tightening in his chest. Time was slipping away, the auditions nearing their close—and still, no sign of Anna.
Wilsmith exhaled heavily, already signaling to wrap things up.
But just as the staff began collecting papers and the chatter of dismissal rippled through the hall, a voice rang out—clear, steady, cutting straight through the vast silence.
"I’m not finished with the audition yet."
Both Ethan and Wilsmith’s heads snapped toward the voice.
Anna stood in the doorway, chest heaving, her breath ragged as though she had sprinted the entire way. Strands of hair clung to her damp forehead, sweat glistening against the studio lights.
"You can’t leave," she said again, her voice steadier this time despite the tremor in her frame. "I haven’t had my chance."
Her words halted Wilsmith mid-step. He turned slowly, his sharp eyes narrowing as they locked on her. The weight of his stare was firm, unyielding—like a wall she’d have to break through if she wanted to be heard.