Falling for my boyfriend's Navy brother novel Chapter 316

**TITLE: Wrong Person 316**
**Chapter 316**

I find myself in a strange limbo, where the boundaries of my body blur into the atmosphere around me.

The moment the curtain descended, a wave of warmth coursed through my veins, an electric pulse that surged as if I had just sprinted a marathon or perhaps brushed against something divine.

Because that’s exactly what it felt like out there.

Divine.

From the time I was a little girl, barely able to tie the laces of my first pair of pink satin slippers, I had envisioned this moment. I had seen this stage in countless dreams, adorned it with a thousand imagined spotlights sketched into the margins of my notebooks, rehearsed for it through injuries, fatigue, and self-doubt.

Yet, no fragment of my wildest dreams could have prepared me for the reality of it all.

The stillness right before the music began.

The ethereal lift of Luc’s hand guiding me.

The searing heat of the lights enveloping me.

The way the audience faded into oblivion the instant I began to move.

I was consumed by it all. Immersed in the sound, lost in the narrative, enveloped in the rhythm that coursed through my very bones, as if it had been lying in wait all along. I danced as if I were unraveling the secrets of my soul, sharing everything I had never managed to articulate.

And when the curtain fell and the audience erupted into applause, something within me shattered, opening up like a flower in bloom.

I’m still trembling.

Backstage, the world around me becomes a whirlwind of faces, voices, and congratulations, all swirling too rapidly for me to grasp. Someone thrusts a bottle of water into my hand, while another informs me that a reporter from the Tribune is on standby. I feel Luc’s hand graze mine as he passes, steady and filled with pride, and then Mila barrels into me in the hallway, wrapping her arms around me with a shriek that makes everyone jump.

“You were a damn celestial event,” she breathes into my ear, her voice a mix of awe and excitement. “Like witnessing the northern lights while crying at the same time.”

I chuckle, though tears brim in my eyes as well.

Finally, my feet are free from the torture of pointe shoes, and the makeup team is tugging at my bobby pins, trying to release me from their grasp. Each sore muscle, every bruise, every drop of sweat I shed was worth it. I would do it all again. Twice over, if I had to.

The interview is a blur, a fleeting moment in time. I can barely recall the words tumbling from my lips—something about discipline, teamwork, and gratitude. I express my thanks to Madame Loretto, Luc, the academy, my family, everyone who has been a part of this journey. I hope I conveyed the fire that blazes behind my eyes when I spoke of it.

Because that fire still burns bright.

Finally, I slip out of my costume, trading it for a cozy, oversized sweater and leggings. Mila stands beside me, humming a tune that has lodged itself in her mind since act two. We both radiate warmth, our cheeks flushed and glowing from the performance. My hair is half falling out of its bun, but I couldn’t care less.

There’s still a sprinkle of glitter clinging to my collarbone, a reminder of the magic that just transpired.

Stepping outside, the night air wraps around me like a soothing lullaby.

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