Miss X

The brush tickled my cheekbone as Faye, my make up artist leaned in, her breath steady as she added the final touch of highlighter. The dressing room was chaos, all glitter and nerves, but in our little corner, she moved with calm precision.

It was her ritual… calm in the storm, and by some miracle, it had become mine too.

“Hold still, Cecilia,” she whispered, adjusting the angle of the ring light.

I obeyed, heart thundering beneath the silk of my robe. My reflection blinked back at me… soft waves cascading over one shoulder, lips painted in a daring crimson I would never wear on any normal day.

But this wasn’t a normal day.

This was the day.

The night of Miss X beauty pageant at the Manhattan Center. The night everything would change.

“I still think we should’ve gone with the softer nude lip,” I murmured, half-teasing.

Faye narrowed her eyes. “You’re not trying to blend in. You’re the star tonight. That red says, ‘I belong here.’”

I wanted to believe her.

From the hallway, a burst of cheers and claps echoed, another contestant had just gone onstage. I instinctively checked the clock on the vanity. Fifteen minutes. Just fifteen more minutes until I stepped into the lights, into the crowd, into judgment.

My stomach twisted.

Faye noticed.

“You’re not backing out now,” she said, her tone firmer than usual. “You’ve worked too hard. And you are ready, Cecilia. You’ve been ready since the day you walked into that first audition with your thrift store heels and nerves taped together.”

A laugh bubbled out of me. “I looked ridiculous.”

“You looked real,” she corrected. “That’s why they couldn’t take their eyes off you. That’s why you’re here.”

She picked up the glitter spray, gave me one last shimmering dusting, and stepped back.

“Perfect,” she said with a nod, her voice softer now. “You look like a queen.”

I smiled, but a part of me still trembled. Not from fear. From everything else.

There was Liam Hayes.

There was Adrian Carlisle.

And there was the secret no one else knew.

My fingers toyed with the edge of the vanity, nails tapping a nervous rhythm. I should’ve told Liam about Adrian weeks ago.

I should’ve told Adrian about Liam even before that. But every time I thought I could unravel the mess, it only seemed to tangle tighter.

I glanced at my phone tucked beside the mirror. Two unread messages. One from Liam.

Liam: I got your favorite flowers. You’ll kill it tonight. I’m here. Front row.

And one from Adrian.

Adrian: I hope you’re ready. Tonight’s going to be unforgettable.

The words pulsed against my skin.

Unforgettable. But for the right reasons?

“Okay, we need you in line, Cecilia!” one of the stage assistants called out.

I stood, legs wobbling for a second in my heels before finding my balance. Faye adjusted the strap of my dress and gave my hand a squeeze.

“Deep breaths,” she said.

I nodded. “Deep breaths.”

Just as I reached for the right hip on my dress, the dressing room door creaked open sharply. I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. The scent of jasmine and power preceded her… Miss New York, Savannah King.

“Well, well,” she said, letting her eyes roam over me with a smile too sharp to be sweet. “Did your stylist quit on you halfway through, or are we going for ‘small-town tragic’ this year?”

Before I could respond, another figure slid in behind her… Miss Atlanta, Tiana Gray, dripping in designer smugness. “Leave her alone, Sav. It’s adorable she even showed up,” she cooed, feigning sympathy. “She’s trying, bless her heart.”

Their voices dripped with false niceties and poison, dancing through the dressing room like a bad perfume. They moved around me slowly, not unlike vultures in sequins.

“You’re sweet,” Savannah said, brushing a hand over the beaded edge of my gown as if she were petting a puppy. “Naïve, maybe. But sweet. Just… don’t embarrass yourself out there, okay?”

Tiana crossed her arms. “Not everyone’s meant for this stage. This isn’t a fundraiser in a gymnasium… it’s nationals. Big lights. Bigger claws.”

They laughed, the kind of laugh meant to pierce skin. I said nothing at first. I let the silence speak.

I let it build.

Then I looked at myself in the mirror. And I remembered who the hell I was.

I turned, slowly. “You’re right,” I said, my voice calm, steady. “Not everyone is meant for this stage. Only the ones strong enough to stand on it without tearing others down.”

That shut them up… for now.

They exchanged a quick glance, and then, with a flick of Savannah’s hair and a roll of Tiana’s eyes, they exited the room in search of a new target. The air they left behind was thick, but it was mine now.

A moment later, Faye stepped out from behind the changing partition, her arms folded, eyebrows raised. I hadn’t even realized she’d been there.

She walked toward me, calm and collected, her eyes soft with something that felt like pride… and warning.

“You’re not here to beat girls like that,” she said, gently adjusting one of my shoulder straps. “You’re here to beat the version of yourself that ever thought you had to compete with them.”

I blinked, absorbing her words.

“They’ll throw words like knives,” she continued, lowering her voice. “But don’t bleed for them. Don’t give them the win before the judges even sit down. Hold your head up and walk out there like you’ve already won… because you’ve already survived worse than this.”

She placed both hands on my shoulders and leaned in. “Let them talk. Let them laugh. You don’t need their approval. You need your own power.”

My chest tightened slightly… not with fear, but with purpose.

As I walked toward the line of glittering gowns and poised smiles, I let my mind drift for just a second.

To Liam’s face when he looked at me like I was the whole universe.

To Adrian’s voice on the phone last night… low and unreadable, like he knew something I didn’t.

To the moment coming fast… center stage, the spotlight, the crowd, the crown.

And the one decision that could unravel it all.

The velvet curtain inched open.

My name echoed over the speakers.

I stepped into the lights.