Chapter Seventeen

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I stand at the entrance of the big tent, my hands trembling slightly as I grip the thick canvas flap. The familiar scent of sawdust and excitement fills my nostrils. Tonight it’s tinged with something bittersweet.

Backstage, Cirque des Miroirs buzzes with pre-show energy. Performers dash back and forth, adjusting costumes and applying last-minute makeup. The air crackles with anticipation, a palpable electricity that would make my heart race.

Unfortunately, my heart’s already pounding for a different reason.

From the corner, I scan the crowd, searching for a face I know I won’t find. Logan’s absence hurts like a physical ache, a hollow space where he should be standing, proud and tall, overseeing our triumph. At least I hope it’ll be a triumph.

A fresh wave of pain courses through me.

The only reason I did this was for him. Now I’m alone.

And the reputation of the entire circus hangs on my desperate fever dream.

I shake my head, forcing the thoughts away. This isn’t about me or Logan. It’s about every person who’s poured their heart and soul into this show. They deserve my full attention, my unwavering support.

Taking a deep breath, I step into the organized chaos backstage. Caterina rushes past, her Juliet costume a swirl of delicate fabric and sparkling gems.

“The rigging!” she calls out, her eyes wide with a mix of excitement and nerves.

I hold up a hand. “I’ll check on it.”

She nods and dashes off. I make my way to the tech area, my mind shifting into problem-solving mode. There’s no room for personal emotions now. The show demands my full attention, and I’m determined to give it nothing less.

As I work through last-minute adjustments, pride builds inside me. Despite everything—Logan’s absence, the town’s hostility, my own broken heart—we’ve created something truly magical here.

The music swells, signaling the start of the show.

I take my place in the wings, ready to guide our Romeo and Juliet through their star-crossed journey. For the next few hours, at least, I can lose myself in the story we’ve woven together.

I hold my breath as the lights dim and the audience falls silent.

The curtain rises, revealing Travis in his clown costume, his face painted with an exaggerated grin that belies any nervousness. This is his moment, our moment, to prove that Cirque des Miroirs is more than just Logan’s vision.

Travis ambles across the stage, his oversized shoes flopping comically with each step. I can’t help but smile, remembering the shy boy I once defended in Forrester. Now he’s commanding the spotlight, drawing laughter from the crowd as he “accidentally” bumps into another clown holding a bucket. It tips over, Travis in a shower of glitter-infused water. The audience gasps, then erupts in delighted giggles as Travis sputters and shakes like a wet dog.

The other clown’s face contorts in mock anger, and he grabs a mop, chasing Travis around the ring. Their slapstick chase transforms seamlessly into our reimagined “fight scene.” Acrobats in jewel-toned Montague and Capulet costumes emerge from hidden trapdoors, joining the fray. My heart swells with pride as they execute the complex routine we’ve spent weeks perfecting.

The giant swings creak into motion, and I hold my breath.

The first acrobat soars through the air, twisting and turning in a series of complex moves before tumbling gracefully to the ground. Yes! Exhilaration rushes through me.

The audience gasps and cheers with each death-defying leap.

I scan their faces, seeing wonder and awe replace the suspicion and hostility that’s haunted us since arriving in Forrester. In this instant, there’s only the magic of the circus, the thrill of watching these incredible performers push the boundaries of what’s possible.

As the scene reaches its crescendo, with acrobats flying in intricate patterns above the ring, I realize I’m grinning so hard my cheeks hurt. We did it. We’ve created something beautiful, something that transcends all the ugliness we’ve faced.

My heart swells with joy as I see the audience’s reactions, their faces filled with wonder and amazement. The sea of eyes wide with awe, mouths slightly agape, mirrors the very magic we’ve poured into this performance. Each gasp, each cheer, fuels the fire inside me, pushing aside the shadows of doubt and despair that have haunted me for weeks.

There are juggling acts, acrobatics, and a giant wheel controlled by a man around the stage. In between, Romeo and Juliet step out for emotional vignettes that move the story.

A gymnast finishes his act, beaming at the crowd, his smile reflecting their joy.

Cat stands ready for her entrance as Juliet, her dark eyes sparkling. She catches my gaze and gives a subtle nod. We share an unspoken understanding—tonight is about more than just the performance. It’s about proving to ourselves and everyone else that we are strong, resilient, capable of beauty even in the face of adversity.

As the first act draws to a close, I slip out from behind the curtains and make my way toward the audience area. I want to feel their energy up close, to soak in their reactions as we transition into the heart of our story.

“Did you see that?”

“My toxic trait is thinking I could do that.”

“You’d break your neck.”

I grin, unable to resist the raw enthusiasm of the crowd. There were grueling rehearsals, the sleepless nights, constant pressure. They all led to this moment.

Cat steps onto the stage. She embodies Juliet with every fiber of her being—graceful yet fierce, vulnerable yet unyielding.

Felix enters as Romeo, his usual swagger replaced by a tender intensity that makes my breath catch. Together they weave a tale of love and loss that resonates deeply with me—our own struggles reflected in Shakespeare’s timeless story.

The audience leans forward collectively as Caterina and Felix share their first kiss—a delicate brush of lips that holds all the promise and heartbreak of young love. The air is thick with emotion; it pulses around us like a living thing.

My breath catches as the grand finale approaches. Tricks sits obediently at my feet, his little tail wagging. He knows it’s coming.

I kneel down, adjusting his miniature friar’s robe one last time.

“You ready, buddy?” I whisper, scratching behind his ear. His tongue lolls out in response, and I can’t help but smile. “Show them what you’ve got.”

As the cue comes, I give Tricks a gentle nudge. He trots out onto the stage, his tiny paws barely making a sound on the sawdust-covered floor. The audience’s reaction is immediate—a wave of laughter and delighted gasps ripples through the tent.

Tricks prances around Felix and Cat, who accept his poison with total seriousness, playing their roles to perfection. His antics provide a stark contrast to the tragic scene, his tail wagging furiously as he performs the tricks we’ve practiced countless times.

He sits up on his hind legs, “praying” over the bodies with his front paws clasped together. Then he rolls over, playing dead himself for a moment before springing back up and yipping cheerfully. The crowd eats it up, their laughter a balm to my frayed nerves.

As Tricks makes a victory lap around the center ring, pride surges through me. This little stray I found on the roadside is stealing the show.

The juxtaposition of Tricks’s playful energy against the grim tableau creates exactly a compelling vision. It’s a reminder of life’s unpredictability, how joy and sorrow often dance side by side. About how we have to find laughter in even the darkest times.

The audience erupts in applause.

As I stand at the edge of the performers’ entrance, my eyes scan the sea of faces in the audience. The smiles, the wide eyes filled with wonder—they’re why we do this. But amidst the crowd, a flicker of movement catches my eye.

I squint, my breath catching in my throat. Could it be…?

Logan.

My heart skips a beat. He said he wasn’t coming, that he didn’t want to be part of the circus anymore. His words had cut deep, leaving me raw and aching. Yet there he stands, his silhouette unmistakable even in the dim light filtering through the tent.

For a moment, I can’t breathe. Hope flares within me, bright and blinding, but it’s tempered by the sting of his rejection. The things he said—they still echo in my mind, each one a tiny dagger lodged in my heart.

He moves closer to the entrance, his gaze locked on me. There’s something in his eyes—a mix of regret and longing—that makes my chest tighten. I want to run to him, to demand answers and assurances.

Instead, I stay rooted to the spot, torn between hope and hurt.

The final act crescendos around us, performers spinning and leaping with an intensity that matches my swirling emotions. I glance back at them, at Caterina and Felix as they execute their roles with flawless precision. This is what we’ve built together—Logan and me—and it’s beautiful beyond words.

Yet here he is now, on the periphery of our world.

Does he regret leaving? Is he here to reclaim his place in the circus?

I swallow hard, pushing down the whirlwind inside me. Whatever happens next—whether Logan steps back into my life or remains apart—I have to focus on this moment, on finishing this performance with all the strength and passion we’ve mustered.