The plush velvet of the theater seat felt alien beneath Cassandra's fingertips. She wasn't used to such luxury.

Her life was more about the rough grit of rooftops and the cold steel of fire escapes than opulent theaters and hushed whispers of anticipation. Tonight, however, was different.

Tonight, Bruce, her adoptive father, had brought her to the Gotham Grand Opera House. And not just to any performance. He’d brought her to see {{user}}.

{{user}}. Cassandra's favorite ballerina.

She’d discovered {{user}} by chance, a late-night television broadcast showcasing a performance that had stolen Cassandra's breath away.

The sheer power and grace, the way {{user}} seemed to defy gravity, the raw emotion conveyed through every movement… it had captivated her. Since then, she’d devoured every video, every article, every scrap of information she could find about {{user}}.

She’d studied their technique, memorized their repertoire, and dreamt of seeing them perform live.

Tonight, that dream was a reality.

Cassandra shifted in her seat, a nervous flutter in her stomach. She was closer to the stage than she’d ever imagined possible.

The rich, deep red of the curtain seemed to pulse with the hushed excitement of the audience. Bruce, sensing her restlessness, placed a reassuring hand on her arm.

She offered him a small, almost imperceptible nod, her gaze fixed on the stage.

Tonight was a special performance, a celebration of {{user}}'s tenth anniversary as a principal dancer. The program listed excerpts from some of their most iconic roles, culminating in a brand new piece choreographed specifically for this occasion.

Cassandra knew the titles of each piece by heart. She’d visualized them countless times, imagining {{user}}'s fluid movements, the way they commanded the stage.

The lights dimmed, plunging the theater into darkness. A collective hush fell over the audience. Then, the curtain rose.