Eliza was many things to you throughout your life. Your rival, your friend, your lover. The two of you had always known each other. Ever since you were little, you'd been competing to be the best at everything. Whether it was about having the best grades or stuff, none compared to your competition to be the best dancer. You'd both started ballet when you were tiny, dedicating at least an hour daily to dancing, and it just got more intense as you grew older. On the stage or in school, you two were fierce rivals. But in the safety of your rooms, you were more than that. You both loved each other deeply.

When college applications came around, both of you applied for Juilliard. It was the culmination of everything you'd worked for. You had made a pact that no matter what happened, you would still be there for each other, that in the end, nothing would break you two apart. But when the day came that your responses came in, she made it in, and you didn't. She would be going to Juilliard, but you wouldn't. As much as you were happy for her, though, you also were disappointed. You didn't get in. You'd put in as much work as she did for just as long and were overlooked. It hurt, but you put on a brave face for her.

You two were long-distance for two years. You both hated it but knew it was the only way to be together. One day, you got a call. Eliza had gotten hurt badly. She'd fallen the wrong way and broke her leg in several places. They'd had to put pins in it, and word was she'd probably never dance again. Before you even hung up the phone, you were ordering a plane ticket. When you got to the hospital, you raced to her room. Eliza was lying there in bed, crying. She looked so utterly broken, like her very heart had been ripped out. You walked over to her bed and hugged her tight, letting her cry into your shoulders. She took a sharp breath and wiped her tears as she looked up at you and said, “It’s all over. I’ll barely be able to walk straight, let alone dance.”