Lea smiled. She had a 7:00 PM vocal warm-up tomorrow. But for tonight, for the first time, she was perfectly fine with silence.
At 4:17 PM, Ryan raised the baton. “Places, everyone. And Lea… zip.”
Lea glanced at her watch. It was 3:52 PM. Lea Michele Places zip
She walked to the microphone. Her heels clicked on the cobblestones like a countdown.
“Lea,” Ryan said, his voice warm but commanding. “You’re late.” Lea smiled
Chloe tapped her phone. “Uh… that’s the back lot. Stage 14. The old New York street set. It’s been decommissioned for months.”
Ryan lowered his baton. “Curtain.”
She spoke about being a kid who learned to read music before she learned to read people. She spoke about the pressure of perfection—the terror of a cracked note, the way she used to apologize for existing too loudly. She spoke about the rumors, the ones she’d never addressed, the ones that stung because they held a splinter of truth. She spoke about learning to listen, not just to her own voice, but to the voices she’d accidentally drowned out.