9. Chapter 4
Mirror, Mirror
Evin
T he ballet studio was silent, save for the occasional shuffle of slippers against the wooden floor and the whispering of girls as they sat on the ground, waiting. Evin stretched her legs, her muscles slightly tense, but it wasn’t the practice occupying her thoughts.
The memory of the party and Bas was lodged deep in her mind, no matter how much she tried to push it away. Ballet was the one place where she had control, where she could forget everything else.
It had been a few days since the weekend, and Evin still hadn’t heard back from Bas. She had sent him a long message, explained everything, hoping he would understand.
His status: read.
But no reply.
The empty screen of her phone haunted her thoughts, like a silent accusation. And today—on top of everything—they’d had another fight.
Mrs . Wagner entered the studio with her usual rigid grace, her presence instantly silencing the whispers in the room.
Her short hair, slicked tightly back, glistened almost black beneath the studio lights, emphasizing the severity of her expression.
Everything about her spoke of absolute control, from the precise lines of her navy-blue leotard—its thin straps revealing just enough of her toned back—to the subtle flare of her black jazz pants.
Her movements were fluid, each step purposeful in her minimal-heeled dance shoes. Even without saying a word, she demanded perfection, her sharp gaze scanning the dancers, noticing every flaw.
Mrs. Wagner had never been gentle, but she was fair and painfully straightforward.
Evin straightened instinctively under that penetrating stare. She knew exactly what she wanted—Mrs. Wagner’s approval, yes, but even more, ballet was her lifeline, the one place where the noise in her head quieted and the rest of the world ceased to matter.
Evin forced her shoulders back. Her gaze flickered over the other dancers gathered in front of Mrs. Wagner, attentive but visibly nervous. Everyone knew this wasn’t just any class. Every two years, there was a major performance—the highlight of the ballet ensemble—and this year, it was time again.
“I hope you’re ready,” Mrs. Wagner began, her voice calm but firm. “The time has come. This is your moment to rise to a real challenge.” The girls shifted slightly closer together. Everyone could sense the weight of the announcement.
Mrs. Wagner paused for a moment before continuing, “This year, we will be performing La Bayadère. ”
A murmur rippled through the rows.
Evin heard some of the girls sharply inhale.
La Bayadère —this wasn’t an easy piece. It was a tale of love, betrayal, and death.
“ La Bayadère is one of the most demanding pieces in the ballet world,” Mrs. Wagner explained.
“It tells the story of Nikiya, a temple dancer who falls hopelessly in love with Solor, only to be betrayed in the end. It’s about sacrif ice, passion, the struggle between love and duty.
And it is not just a test of your technique—it’s a test of your character. ”
Evin’s heart raced. The challenge Mrs. Wagner described was exactly what she needed—something to ground her physically, something to drown out the chaos in her mind.
This was her chance.
“There will be some dancers given the opportunity to earn the lead roles,” Mrs. Wagner continued. “Two dancers will come from this group.”
Evin’s pulse quickened. Two. That wasn’t many, and the pressure became palpable. She knew she had to outshine everyone if she wanted even the slightest chance of being cast as Nikiya.
Mrs. Wagner’s eyes swept across the room, scrutinizing each dancer critically.
“You will study the choreography and have one month to rehearse. Those who can convincingly portray the emotions demanded by this piece will earn roles as Nikiya, Solor, or Gamzatti. These are not roles I assign out of favoritism. You must earn them.”
Evin felt her stomach tighten. This wasn’t a game. It was a ruthless competition.
If she wanted the role, she had to give it everything she had—while somehow suppressing the inner turmoil brought on by Bas and the past few weeks.
“Nele and Evin,” Mrs. Wagner suddenly called out.
“You are the two from this group. Evin, you have the talent and the expression this role demands. But you will need to work on yourself. Your technique needs to be sharper, but that’s achievable.
However,” she added, her gaze critically assessing Evin’s body, “you might want to lay off the burgers for a while.”
Evin’s heart froze as Mrs. Wagner’s words hung in the air.
5'6". 136 pounds.
She knew she was curvier than the other dancers. Her hips, the curve of her waist—things she might have considered beautiful outside the ballet world—were seen as weaknesses here. A body that didn’t perfectly fit the rigid mold of a ballerina was a burden she had carried since puberty.
“ Nikiya must be light,” Mrs. Wagner continued. “Graceful. Understood?”
Evin nodded without really looking up. Light. Graceful.
All she could think was: I have to make this work. Lose weight. Eat less. Train harder. There was no other option. If she wanted this role, she knew exactly what it would cost her.
As she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she analyzed every inch of her body, noting where she thought there was too much.