Angel’s voice

Aurora woke to the muffled hum of music vibrating through the walls and the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air like a promise. For a moment, she didn’t move. She lay in the narrow bed, tangled in soft sheets, listening. The mattress dipped in the middle, and the ceiling above her was speckled with water stains, but there was no shouting. No footsteps pacing in anger. No one telling her to pack her things.

Just quiet.

She sat up slowly, the ache in her legs a reminder of the long night before. Her hands reached for the thin curtain that covered the window above the bed, tugging it open just enough to let the desert sunlight paint golden lines across the floor. The world outside still felt foreign, the city stretching in all directions like a puzzle she hadn’t learned how to solve.

But the club… that had felt like a beginning.

After washing up and pulling her hair into a high ponytail, Aurora dressed in a simple black tank and leggings—clean, fitted, and practical. She slipped into her flats and paused at the mirror, studying herself.

No makeup. No glitter. Just her.

She didn’t know if it would be enough, but she was ready to try.

The backstage corridor was already alive by the time she stepped out of her apartment. Music floated through the walls, jazzy and rhythmic. Voices overlapped in casual chatter. Perfume and powder hung in the air like a second skin. The dancers were already gathered in the lounge, stretching, sipping coffee, and slipping into rehearsal heels.

Skyler spotted her first.

“Well, look who’s officially one of us,” she called with a smile, waving Aurora over. “You’re on the roster now, baby girl.”

Aurora smiled despite herself. “Am I getting a sparkly robe too?”

Skyler laughed and looped an arm around her shoulder. “You have to earn your rhinestones, sweetheart. But don’t worry, I’ve got extras.”

They moved through the lounge, and Aurora greeted the others with quiet nods. Gia was mid-stretch in fishnets and a robe, one leg practically vertical, her expression unreadable. Ariana sat at the vanity reapplying lipstick with the precision of a sniper. Kim gave Aurora a subtle nod of acknowledgment, nothing more.

Skyler didn’t seem to notice the coolness from the others—or maybe she didn’t care. She guided Aurora into a side room lined with floor-to-ceiling mirrors. The rehearsal space was smaller than the stage but bathed in warm light. A wooden floor stretched beneath their feet, polished and slightly worn.

“Alright,” Skyler said, clapping her hands once. “First lesson: the stage doesn’t lie.”

Aurora looked around, nerves fluttering. “So… we start dancing?”

“We start learning how to own the space. Dancing comes later. Confidence comes first.”

Skyler stepped into the center of the room and lifted her chin, her body softening and strengthening all at once. She walked—nothing flashy, just a slow, deliberate glide across the room. But every step radiated control, elegance, and something more.

“Everything you do on that stage,” Skyler said, turning back toward Aurora, “tells them who you are. You walk like you deserve to be seen, and they’ll believe you.”

Aurora nodded slowly. “Even if I don’t believe it yet?”

“Especially then,” Skyler replied. “Fake it until your heels click like gospel.”

They spent the next hour on posture, movement, poise. Skyler taught her how to walk like a woman with secrets, how to pivot with grace, how to hold a gaze without flinching. She corrected Aurora gently, never harsh—adjusting a shoulder here, a tilt of the chin there.

“You’re too stiff,” she said at one point. “Relax. You’re not marching into battle—you’re slipping into silk.”

Aurora laughed, letting her spine ease, and tried again. This time, her reflection smiled back.

After a break for water and breath, they returned to the lounge where Vanessa was waiting with a clipboard and a faint smirk.

“She surviving?” Vanessa asked.

“She’s better than I was on my first day,” Skyler said proudly.

“Don’t let the praise get to your head,” Vanessa warned Aurora with a wink. “We haven’t seen her stumble in heels yet.”

Aurora swallowed. “That’s next, isn’t it?”

Skyler grinned. “Absolutely.”

Fifteen minutes later, Aurora stood in front of the mirror in a pair of borrowed heels—nothing extreme, just a modest pair of gold T-straps. Still, they felt like stilts compared to the flats she was used to.

“Don’t overthink it,” Skyler said, standing beside her. “Heels change your center. Let them guide you. You’re not stomping—you’re gliding.”

The first few steps were wobbly, but Aurora adjusted quickly, her body remembering how to balance, how to flow. She fell once—nothing dramatic, just a misstep with a soft curse and a laugh. Skyler helped her up without teasing, brushing off her knee.

“Everyone eats the floor their first week,” she said lightly. “Gia fell off the stage once trying to catch a rose someone threw her.”

“I thought she was born in heels,” Aurora muttered, impressed.

Skyler leaned in. “Gia pretends she’s bulletproof. But when I first got here, I caught her crying backstage because her corset snapped mid-performance.”

The admission surprised Aurora, but it made her feel a little braver.

They moved next into vocal warm-ups. Skyler wasn’t a singer herself, but she’d heard enough voices to guide the basics. Aurora sat on the edge of the stage, her legs dangling over the side, as she hummed scales and practiced breath control.

When she finally sang—a soft jazz tune under her breath—Skyler paused.

“Holy hell,” she murmured. “You’ve been hiding that?”

Aurora blushed. “I don’t… I haven’t sung for anyone in a long time.”

“Well,” Skyler said, grinning. “Now you’re never gonna stop. We’re keeping that voice locked in a velvet box.”