HANNAH
It was the day after graduation, and the weight of everything seemed to settle in all at once. The halls that once echoed with laughter and the quiet rustle of textbooks were now silent. The classroom doors that I had walked through for years were now closing for good. I couldn’t believe it—graduation had come and gone, and somehow, we had all made it out in one piece.
Jessica had been excited about the whole thing, her usual bubbly self, already making plans for the summer and what came after. Big Jim, of course, had already graduated, his name etched into the school's history as one of the seniors who made their mark. I couldn't help but admire how easy everything seemed for him, how he moved through the world with such confidence. But now, even he was preparing for the next chapter, and it felt like everything was changing too fast.
For me, graduation felt bittersweet. In the space of a few hours, I’d gone from being the shy girl who barely spoke to the one who stood at the front of the room, listening to the familiar names being called out as the class of the year was celebrated. It was surreal to think that in just a few weeks, I would be packing my bags and leaving our small town for the bustling city. College life awaited, and with it, new opportunities, new faces, and new challenges.
But one thing that stuck in my mind, something I couldn't shake, was how everything with Jeremy had changed. Back when we were still in high school, we used to hang out nearly every day, but now, it felt like we were worlds apart. We had both matured in ways I never expected.
Jeremy had kept to his usual quiet self, but there was something different about him. He wasn’t just the genius in physics anymore, the guy who could build anything. He had become someone I couldn’t quite place. He wasn’t the awkward guy who always avoided looking me in the eye, and he certainly wasn’t the one who had casually laughed at my jokes.
He was... quieter. More composed. And every time I saw him, I could sense this quiet strength around him, this calm that had come from all the scholarships and opportunities he had lined up. He was staying here in town, he told me, but his mind was already far beyond this place, preparing for the next steps in his academic career.
Even his eyes had changed. Those blue eyes, the ones that once seemed so uncertain, now carried something different. It was like he had grown up in ways I hadn’t seen coming. I didn’t know if I was seeing the Jeremy I had known all these years or someone new, someone I couldn’t figure out.
But then there was me. The girl who used to sit quietly in the corner, the one who always felt out of place. Now, I stood taller, more confident—less the shy girl and more like someone who could take on the world. I had grown, too, maybe in a way I never expected, and it didn’t hurt so much anymore.
I was about to leave, about to carve my own path in the city, and as much as I had been excited about it, a small part of me wanted to hold on to what had been. What we had shared. But I couldn't, could I?
The past few months had taught me something important: Sometimes, the people who matter most don't always stay by your side forever. And it was okay. It was a lesson I had to learn. Jeremy and I... we weren't the same people we were when we first met. And that wasn’t a bad thing. We had changed—grown—and maybe we didn’t need to be the same anymore.
I had heard about the opportunities Jeremy had—scholarships from universities that were lining up for him. He was going places. Big places. His future was paved in a way that made me proud of him, even if I had no idea what it would mean for us.
I walked across the campus, past the same landmarks we had passed a thousand times before, trying to let everything sink in. The people I had grown up with were moving on, but I wasn’t sure what it meant for me.
But what I did know was this: Jeremy was Jeremy, no matter where he went. And I was me. And whatever came next, we would find our own paths. Maybe they would cross again, maybe not. But either way, I had to keep moving forward. He would too.
As I glanced across the hall at Jessica and Big Jim talking excitedly about their future plans, I couldn’t help but smile. They had found their rhythm together, and even though I was still unsure about everything, I knew it was time for me to find mine. Time to start fresh.
It felt like the end of something, but at the same time, the beginning of everything.
*****
Five years had passed, and here I was, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, my reflection a mix of exhaustion and pride. The long hours of rehearsal, the bruises that didn’t fade as easily, the sleepless nights filled with doubt— they were all worth it. The lights in the studio, the scent of the worn wooden floors, the ever-present music—it had become my life, my world.
I had made it.
Ballet wasn’t just a passion anymore; it was my career. I wasn’t just another dancer, I was a professional now, and I had worked for every bit of this.
The role of the Black Swan—the one I had dreamed of for years—had finally been handed to me. It was a breakthrough moment, one I had worked tirelessly toward. I had started from nothing, dancing in small local productions, building my body and my art. And now, here I was, about to perform in one of the most prestigious venues in the city, surrounded by people who had spent their entire lives building the same dream.
I was lucky, I knew that.
But still, the realization hit me like a brick wall. Five years had passed since I left my small town for this city. Five years since I had left behind the familiar faces of home, the ones who had once made me feel like I belonged somewhere.
My life in the city was full of music, art, and the satisfaction of pursuing something I loved, but it was also isolating. I had friends now—mostly fellow dancers, artists, and the occasional fellow struggling soul I met on the side—but at the end of the day, when I returned to my apartment, it was just me.
It wasn’t the life I had imagined. I had thought it would be all excitement, constant new experiences, and friendships blossoming every day. But instead, it was a quiet apartment, a too-big bed that felt empty most nights. A few too many evenings spent alone, staring out the window at the city that never seemed to sleep.
Tonight, though, was different.
It was a celebration. I had received the role of the Black Swan, and the team was throwing a small gathering at a nearby bar to mark the occasion. Drinks, laughter, and maybe a little too much to drink—but I didn’t mind. It was a moment to relish, a moment where I could forget about the long hours ahead of me and just enjoy the company of those who had supported me.
I made my way to the bar, the familiar hum of chatter and laughter filling the air as I walked in. The usual crowd was there—dancers, choreographers, and a few production staff. They greeted me with smiles and pats on the back, congratulating me on the role.
As I made my way to the table, I felt a sense of pride swell in my chest, but it wasn’t enough to keep me from feeling a little out of place. I had my friends here, but a part of me still longed for something more. Something familiar.
“Hey, Hannah!” came a voice from across the room. It was Lila, one of the lead dancers from the company. Her blonde hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, and she had a glass of champagne in her hand, a smile that never seemed to fade. She gestured for me to join her.
“Come join us! You deserve this!”
I smiled and made my way over, taking a seat at the table. Lila handed me a drink, and I accepted it without thinking. My nerves were high tonight; I wasn’t used to this kind of attention, but I had to embrace it.
“Congratulations, girl!” Lila continued, raising her glass. “You’re going to be incredible. I know it.”
“Thanks,” I replied, my voice tinged with a mix of nervousness and excitement. “It’s still kind of surreal, honestly.”
“I get it,” she said, nodding knowingly. “I remember when I got my first lead role. It’s like your body is in one place, but your mind is still trying to catch up.”
I chuckled, taking a sip from my glass. I’d heard similar sentiments from my friends who had come before me, and it still felt strange. I had worked so hard, put in so many hours, yet when I looked at myself in the mirror, I didn’t see the dancer I thought I would. I saw someone still trying to prove herself, still learning, still adjusting.
As the night wore on, the drinks flowed, and the conversation became louder, more carefree. We all talked about our roles, the upcoming performances, and the challenges of being dancers in a world that demanded so much. We laughed at the absurdities of life, the jokes about injuries, the stories of our clumsy moments in rehearsal. But despite the laughter, there was an unspoken understanding between us all: this life, this world, wasn’t easy. We were constantly pushing ourselves, constantly striving for perfection, and when we weren’t on stage, we were still in the studio, still practicing, still fighting for our place.
I took another sip, trying to calm the nerves that were still bubbling inside me. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out, half-expecting a message from someone back home. But as soon as I saw the notification, I froze.
It was an email.
It was from the ballet company.
Congratulations on your new role! We look forward to seeing you perform on stage for the Black Swan production! As part of your preparation, we have a few adjustments we’d like to discuss with you. Please come to the studio tomorrow for your first session as the lead.
I stared at the message for a moment before putting my phone back in my pocket. The weight of it hit me again, the responsibility, the pressure.
“I’ll be fine,” I muttered to myself.
But even as I said it, I couldn’t help but wonder. What was it all worth? All this time, all this dedication, and yet, when the lights went down, when the curtains closed—would I feel anything more than emptiness?
I shook the thought away, trying to focus on the present.
Tonight, I was surrounded by friends, I had a role that many dancers only dreamed of, and I was living my passion. It should have been enough.
But, for some reason, it didn’t feel like enough.
And I couldn’t quite figure out why.
As the night wound down and everyone began to head home, I stood up, feeling the familiar ache in my legs from hours of dancing earlier.
“Hey, you good?” Lila asked, watching me closely. She had an uncanny ability to notice when something was off. I appreciated that about her.
“Yeah, just tired,” I said with a small smile. “But I’m okay.”
She gave me a concerned look, but nodded. “Alright, well, take care of yourself. You’ve earned this night. Tomorrow, you’ll crush it. I know it.”
I nodded, feeling a flicker of gratitude for her. She was one of the few people who had stuck by me, supported me, and believed in me.
I left the bar shortly after, the cool night air hitting me as I walked back to my apartment. The city buzzed around me, the lights flickering, the noise of people and traffic all around me.
When I entered my apartment, the silence hit me like a wall. I kicked off my shoes and sat on the couch, the weight of the night sinking in. I had everything I had wanted, everything I had worked for, but still, I felt this emptiness inside.
Five years. Five long years of living in the city, and I still hadn’t made it feel like home.
I looked at my phone one last time, seeing a few missed messages—mostly from my friends, a few from my mom, asking how I was. No messages from him.
I sighed, placing my phone down on the table and walking over to the window. The city lights flickered outside, and for the first time that night, I felt the loneliness creep back in, wrapping itself around me like a heavy blanket.
But I had learned to live with it. To ignore it, to keep moving forward, even when I wasn’t sure what I was really heading toward.
I closed my eyes, taking in the distant hum of the city. And in that moment, I realized that maybe that was all I could do—keep going. Because that’s all I had ever done.
****