The house felt too quiet to Violet. Jeremy was at work, Nathan was at school, and even Kaleb, finally emerging from his funk, was socializing practically 24/7. Her parents were on their belated anniversary trip, leaving her alone with the cats on a Friday morning.

She tried watching one of her favorite cheesy holiday romance movies to cheer herself up, but it didn't work. She had felt off lately.

Her difficulty focusing continued into her performance that night. Despite practicing countless times, she landed a jump incorrectly, feeling a horrible popping sensation in her knee.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she couldn't stop dancing mid-performance. It would be unprofessional, and she was the lead dancer.

Unfortunately, this happened in the middle of Act I, leaving her with over an hour before she could get her knee checked.

Violet blacked out momentarily several times as she danced, but she managed to continue, driven by muscle memory alone. During intermission, while changing costumes, she grimaced as she massaged her knee.

"Did you hurt yourself?" Paul asked with concern. He had been nearby when the "pop" happened and probably heard it.

"Yes," she said miserably.

"Violet, you need to tell the director! Don't strain yourself."

She shook her head. The understudy for Clara was out sick with the stomach flu. No one else knew the part.

Much of the second act involved sitting in a carriage with the Nutcracker. Getting through a few more dance scenes wouldn't be disastrous. The show must go on.

Nina, the understudy, said she would return tomorrow. Violet just needed to make it through this one performance.

That's what she told herself, but dancing without wincing was incredibly difficult. She didn't want to ruin the magic of the show for the audience, so she gritted her teeth and smiled as best she could.

After the final bow, she gracefully exited the stage and promptly collapsed from the pain. Several fellow dancers, having witnessed her struggle, rushed to her side.

"Violet!"

"What happened?"

"Are you alright?"

She quickly regained consciousness and tried to reassure them. Abigail hurried off to get her phone.

"You can't drive home like this," Abigail insisted. "Call someone to come get you."

No one else could take her; the post-show meet-and-greet was underway, and the director expected everyone to compensate for Clara's absence. Violet dialed Jeremy's number first, dismayed to reach voicemail. His phone was off or in airplane mode.

Kaleb didn't answer after two calls, and Nathan's phone was off because he was in class. Tears welled in her eyes. There was no one else to call.

Then she tried Noah. She knew it was a long shot. Two weeks had passed, and he hadn't even attended her show. It was foolish to try, yet…

The familiar dial tone rang for over a minute before he answered.

"What is it, Violet?"

Violet, not Vi. That wasn't encouraging. Noah had called her Vi for most of her life.

Though tempted to hang up and face the humiliation of an ambulance ride for a seemingly minor injury, she pressed on, whispering, "I got hurt during my show and can't drive myself to the hospital. No one else is answering their phones."

"Not even your boyfriend?" he asked flatly.

"His phone is off."

Noah sighed heavily. "I'll be there in twenty minutes. Wait for me."

"Thank you," she replied softly. He grunted in affirmation before hanging up.

Violet leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. She couldn't dwell on the severity of the injury or the potential impact on her career. Help was coming. She would be okay.

Avoiding his best friend would prevent Noah from hearing about her boyfriend; forgetting her to move on not so much. He hadn't seen her since the day he'd been too startled by her sudden appearance to respond, and she'd fled a minute later.

Why bother showing up if she wouldn't even talk? What was the point? It only intensified his longing for the way things used to be.

He was playing a plague epidemic game with Kristen and her boyfriend, Scott, when his phone rang. He almost ignored it until Kristen, briefly removing her headset for a drink, said it was Violet calling.

Violet was a texter; calls were reserved for emergencies or lengthy messages. This, coupled with their lack of contact since that day at the dojo, nearly panicked him. He grabbed his phone.

"What is it, Violet?" Noah asked, striving for composure.

Her nervous tone cut him to the core. She never sounded nervous around him. "I got hurt during my show and can't drive to the hospital by myself. No one else is answering their phones."

She was calling him as a last resort. Before Jeremy, he would have been her first call. He wasn't entirely blameless, though. She might have called him first if he hadn't been avoiding her to get over his pointless feelings.

Hang on if no one was answering, that meant Jeremy wasn't either. "Not even your boyfriend?"

"His phone is off," Violet said sadly.

Noah sighed. Ditching his friends mid-game wasn't ideal, but duty called. His favorite person needed him.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes. Wait for me."

"Thank you," she whispered, her vulnerability striking him. He could only manage a "mm" before hanging up. He should never have avoided her. That was incredibly stupid.

He was about to explain to Kristen and Scott, but she seemed to understand from hearing his side of the conversation. She waved him off with a half-smile.

"Go get her."

Needing no further encouragement, Noah barely managed to put on his jacket before racing out the door. His heart pounded with anxiety. How badly was she hurt? Would this affect her dancing career?

(The promotional material at the end has been removed as requested.)