8 months later...

I applied more blush, gazing at my reflection in the mirror, dozens of other cast and crew rushing to get ready. I adjusted the collar of my page costume, taking cleansing breaths as I stared at my reflection.

Opening night. My role was a tiny one - I'd played much bigger, but for my professional debut performance, and still under 20, it was impressive that I'd even gotten the meager part. I smiled to myself, imagining how the rest of the night would play out.

The performance would run smoothly - or as smoothly as it could, for the very first play - and as the cast took their final bows and the curtain began to drop, I'd scour the crowd, looking for Leonardo. He'd be among those giving a standing ovation, an affectionate smile on his face and a bouquet of flowers tucked under his arm as he winked playfully at me. I could care less about the flowers, for when I burst out of the theater after the show, he'd be waiting for me, pulling me into a proud embrace and murmuring endearments. I sighed dreamily, thanking the heavens silently that society had been kind enough for once to accept him into the world.

~~~

The audience went wild as the final line was uttered by the actor, and just as planned, when I came on for bows, my eyes nervously searched for my boyfriend. Row after row after row, I searched.

I couldn't find him.

I furrowed my brow. Leo had promised he'd be at least on the first floor of seats - apparently, the head of the NYPD had been influential enough to reserve the best seats in the house. My breathing quickened as I quickly searched the audience again. Nope. Not there.

I hurried off stage as soon as the curtain closed, pushing past people in search of Leo. I waited by the front entrance, standing on tiptoes to catch a glimpse of the passersby as they left the theater. Still not there.

Where was he? I wrung my hands nervously, extracting the pins from my carefully made-up hairdo as I trudged back to the dressing room. I opened my duffle bag in front of my mirror, searching through clothes and other paraphernalia until I found my phone. A single message lit up the screen.

Hey Love,
Won't b able to make it. The captain wants me 2 represent team at special dinner with mayor. Really sorry. I l y

My heart shattered. He...he never even showed up. He had promised! I'd worked so hard for this play, we both knew that and he stood me up?!

Tears glistened in my eyes as I reread the text. He must have some nerve, not even calling me, sending a bland text with only the words "really sorry" as an apology. He didn't even spell out "I love you", which we'd agreed to always do if we ever were forced to text.

I tried consoling myself, at first excusing it as a fluke. Then I recalled the past few weeks. His constant non-committal replies, his distracted hugs and occasional kisses, few and far between with his new importance of being the almighty leader of the Ninja Turtles.

My look of sadness turned into a scowl.

"Leonardo Hamato," I muttered to myself as I shouldered my bag and left the dressing room in a huff, "If you stood me up, you're so going to regret it."