One… inhale.

Two… hold.

Three… exhale.

Four… repeat.

Inhale, hold, exhale, inhale, breathe.

Numbers pile up in my brain as I try to soften my nerves. My breathing feels erratic; it’s a bundle of worries ready to explode.

“Calm yourself,” I whisper. My hands cup my face as if to steady the anxious thoughts running miles in my head.

“Amara, you’re next!” A voice calls out. That must be my cue. I had been preparing for this moment for ages; this next minute alone could determine my future. I take a short second to reminisce in the beginning of it all.

Ever since I was young, the endless possibilities of words and sentences amazed me. Not only the idea of communicating, but rather the way words can flow like water droplets in a river, the way a few simple lines can create a riveting image beyond imagination.

It’s astonishing to me.

It had inspired me to pursue the creation of more: more words, more writing. It didn’t take long for me to discover the power those words could hold in speech as well.

Eloquent speeches and poems spoken aloud became my way of communication. It didn’t take long for my words to be recognized.

My mind reminds myself of a small, additional detail, but I exile it from my memory. All that matters is where I am now, about to speak in front of thousands to perform my newest work of art at the renowned Gnosis Writing Arts Championship.

The decades-old competition had helped many others reach success as published authors or public speakers, and now I hope to become the next in line.

Once I bring myself back to the present, I’m walking up to the auditorium stage in front of a large crowd of people. Cameras and crew stand at the corners of the room, streaming the event to who knows how many people.

I adjust my microphone, introduce myself, and prepare to begin. Before starting, I allow myself one last glance at the crowd.

My eyes are caught on one face right at the front. Staring deep into my soul, a familiar smirk leers at me. It takes all I have not to audibly gasp, only a small grimace showing my distaste.

He picks up on it, as expected, and his smirk widens. The one person I would rather die than even look at again.

Of course he’s here.

Jaron, a person I once admired.

A person I once loved.

I’m convinced my eyes are fooling me, but I’d recognize that condescending glare anywhere.

A wave of irony hits me when I recall how he had once been my savior. During a dark time in my life, he had inspired hope in me. Jaron is who convinced me my dreams weren’t hopeless, though he himself wasn’t very convinced of that fact. I soon found out that he had uplifted not only my dreams, but the dreams of other women—many, many other women.

It was devastating. Once he had been discovered, he didn’t hesitate to discard me, my dreams, our life. He was a different person, or maybe he was never who I thought him to be in the first place.

I swallow, anxious tears threatening to spill down my face. I was lost in my thoughts for too long, the silence too long. The sea of eyes stare into me, waiting, expecting.

I take a deep, shaky breath. Jaron is here to see me fail, but I won’t allow it. I’ll never allow it. No matter what he says or has said, my dreams are real and today I will prove that.

I meet the crowd’s stares, open my mouth, and begin.