The rehearsal was scheduled for Saturday afternoon, just one week before the big performance. Jian arrived earlier than usual, carrying his sketchbook and some extra supplies. His heart felt heavy with nerves, and his mind buzzed with thoughts about everything that could go wrong.
The auditorium was quieter than usual, with only a few people setting up. Near the stage, Jian spotted Hana. She was tying her hair into a neat bun, her movements confident and effortless. When she noticed him, she waved and smiled, her face lighting up in a way that made his stomach flip.
"Morning, early bird," she called out.
"Morning," Jian replied, walking over to the stage. He set his things down and sat on the edge, his hands clasped together.
"Couldn't sleep?" she asked, sitting beside him.
"Not really," he admitted, letting out a nervous laugh. "I keep thinking about everything that could go wrong. What if I mess up in front of everyone?"
Hana tilted her head, her smile softening. "You're not alone in that. Even I get nervous sometimes."
"You? Nervous?" Jian looked at her in disbelief. "You always seem so... calm. Like nothing bothers you."
Hana chuckled. "That's what people think, but trust me, I have my moments. I just learned that you can't control everything. All you can do is trust yourself and enjoy the moment."
Her words made Jian pause. There was something about the way she spoke—so honest and straightforward—that made him feel a little less alone in his fears.
"Thanks," he said quietly.
---
When the rehearsal started, the auditorium filled with movement and sound. Performers practiced their routines, adjusted props, and chatted about last-minute changes. Jian and Hana found a quiet spot in the corner to warm up.
"Let's just have fun today," Hana said as she stretched. "No pressure, no overthinking. Deal?"
"Deal," Jian replied, though he wasn't entirely sure he could keep that promise.
Their turn came faster than expected. Jian sat at his spot with the projector, his sketchpad ready. Hana took her position at the center of the stage, her body poised like a flower waiting to bloom.
The music began, soft and haunting. Hana's movements were delicate and precise, her hands mimicking the act of planting seeds. Jian's pencil moved across the paper, creating swirling, graceful lines that appeared on the screen behind her.
As the tempo picked up, Jian tried to match her energy. His hand moved faster, the lines on his sketchpad growing bolder. Hana danced with more intensity, her dress spinning like petals caught in the wind. For a moment, everything felt perfect—their art and movements flowing together seamlessly.
But then Jian's pencil slipped.
A thick, jagged line appeared on the screen, disrupting the smooth pattern he had been drawing. His chest tightened as panic took over.
Hana faltered for just a second, her eyes darting toward the screen. But she recovered quickly, continuing her dance as if nothing had happened. Jian, however, couldn't shake the mistake. His hand trembled as he tried to fix the line, but every attempt made it worse.
---
When the music ended, Jian sat frozen in his chair, staring at the ruined sketch.
Hana walked over, her breathing slightly heavy but her expression calm. She crouched down beside him. "Hey," she said gently. "What happened?"
"I messed up," Jian muttered, his voice low. "I ruined everything."
Hana reached out and closed his sketchbook softly. "You didn't ruin anything. It's just one mistake. It doesn't erase all the work you've done."
Jian shook his head, frustration bubbling up. "But it's supposed to be perfect. You're so good at what you do, and I'm just... not."
Her eyes softened as she sat next to him. "Jian, this isn't about being perfect. It's about telling a story. And stories aren't perfect—they're messy, emotional, and real. That's what makes them beautiful."
He looked at her, her words sinking in slowly.
"Besides," she added with a small smile, "you're not giving yourself enough credit. We're a team, remember? And I trust you."
Her reassurance eased some of the tension in his chest. "Thanks," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
---
After their official rehearsal time ended, Hana suggested they stay back to practice on their own. Most of the other performers had already left, leaving the auditorium quiet and peaceful.
"Let's try something different," Hana said. "No music this time. Just focus on the feeling."
Jian hesitated but nodded. He picked up his pencil as Hana moved to the center of the stage.
This time, without the pressure of an audience or the constraints of the music, Jian let his hand move freely. He stopped worrying about perfection and focused on capturing the energy of Hana's movements. The lines he drew weren't flawless, but they felt alive, full of motion and emotion.
When they finished, Hana walked over with a bright smile. "See? That was amazing."
Jian looked down at his sketchpad and felt a small flicker of pride. "Yeah," he admitted, meeting her gaze.
---
As they packed up their things, Hana pulled out the keychain she had given him during one of their earlier practices.
"You still have this, right?" she asked, holding it up.
"Of course," Jian replied, fishing his own keychain out of his pocket.
She smiled, her eyes warm. "Good. Just remember, no matter what happens, you're not in this alone. We've got each other's backs."
Her words stayed with him as they walked out of the auditorium together. For the first time, Jian felt like he could do this—not because he had suddenly become confident, but because someone like Hana believed in him.
As they stepped into the cool evening air, Jian looked at the keychain in his hand, the small token of their partnership. He didn't know what the performance would bring, but for now, he felt ready to face it.And that was enough.
---