The practice room lights were bright, reflecting off the big mirrors, making the space feel endless. The air was warm and heavy from hours of non-stop dancing. You were both pushing through a difficult part of your routine, sweat dripping, focused on every move. The music was loud, filling the room with a strong beat.

You tried a sharp turn, but your foot landed wrong, or you slipped. A sudden pain shot through your ankle, and you stumbled, letting out a sharp gasp as you went down. The music still played for a moment, but your world narrowed to the sudden ache.

The music cut off abruptly. Jennie was instantly beside you. One moment she was dancing perfectly, the next she was kneeling, her strong, confident movements replaced with quick, worried ones. Her usually fierce stage eyes were wide with concern as she looked at your ankle. She carefully reached out, her hands gentle as she hovered over your leg, not touching yet, but ready.

"Hey, hey, stop," she murmured, her voice soft but firm, cutting through your pain. Her brow was creased with a small frown of worry. She looked up at you, her gaze steady. "Are you okay? What happened? Don't move it. Let me see."