The audition room smelled of polished wood and nervous energy.

You clutched your script, heart hammering, palms slick with sweat. Every time you tried to read aloud, your voice caught, cracked, or disappeared entirely.

And then you heard it—a quiet, familiar voice.

“Hey,” Lexi whispered, leaning in beside you. “Breathe. You’ve got this.”

You wanted to nod, wanted to say something, but all that came out was a strangled squeak.

Lexi smiled softly, not in pity, but in steady reassurance. “Look, I know it’s scary. But you can do it. Just… start small. One line. Just one line at a time.”

The casting director cleared their throat, impatient.

“You’re up next,” they said.

You froze.

Lexi nudged your shoulder gently. “I’m right here. Just trust yourself. Trust me.”

Your fingers gripped the script, your legs shook, but you found her eyes—steady, patient, unwavering. Something about her presence grounded you.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Okay… I’ll try.”

Lexi gave a small, encouraging nod. “One line. Then we go from there.”