Behind The Scene Novels & Stories

Even stranger, Maggie hadn’t even deleted the backup, as if she wanted us to see it on purpose. Suddenly, I remembered a glint of reflected light under the passenger seat after practice that day—something like a tiny lens. A chill crept up my spine. I realized then that this carefully designed trap had been laid long ago. But who was behind it? And why were they determined to push us into a corner like this?

He settled back in his chair and watched the room fill and told himself to leave it alone. ***** Backstage was a different world entirely. The calm that Raymond had carefully constructed over the last two hours was holding, but only just. Most of the models were in their final looks, the hair and makeup team were doing last touch ups, and the floor manager was moving from station to station with a headset and a clipboard checking off names. The music from the front of the house was audible back here, muffled through the walls, and that sound more than anything else was making it real.

Hence, the confidentiality measures were well taken care of. Of course, for a back-end owner like Tyr, his car number plate had long been registered in the list, so when he drove into the arena, nobody stopped him. Inside the arena, a large group of people was rehearsing at the main stage. Standing on this stage was Maeve. She was only singing one song but had thirty backup dancers behind her. Not only was the number of dancers ridiculous, but there was also a huge band at the back of the stage playing an accompaniment. Even the harmony team had more than ten people.

Someone could be naked for Christ's sake. "Follow me now." He ordered with an air of authority. We exchanged looks and followed her immediately. Moving out, the man had led us backstage. Our changing room was really close to it, I wondered how we didn't catch any noise from there. They must have a good soundproof system. There was a large screen at the back which showed what happened on stage. I studied it closely. There were several rows of seats full of spectators, scrutinising the show. Noah Park the three others stood out the most with the most intimidating aura around them, setting them apart from the general.

Flashes of cameras from the media pit capture the essence of the event. The backstage area is a flurry of activity and anticipation. Models, dressed in various stages of readiness, move gracefully through the space, their elegant gowns and meticulously styled hair reflecting the epitome of beauty and sophistication. Makeup artists and hairstylists meticulously put on the finishing touches, ensuring every detail is perfect before the models step onto the runway.

Laughter echoed behind me. I shoved past a staff member, his mic in his hands. Then another, staring open-mouthed as I barreled past like a wild animal in satin. Velvet curtains loomed ahead. I ducked under them, heart in my throat, finding myself plunged into quiet shadow. Backstage. Behind the Ballroom, the real party just beyond the curtains. The light dimmed, the orchestra swelled somewhere beyond, and notes blooming through the air like a spring song.