Chapter Text
Michelle almost missed the envelope when she came through the door, not because it was hidden particularly well but because she was already halfway through her usual routine of slipping on her shoes, grabbing her keys and mentally running through everything she still needed to do at the studio, and she probably would have stepped right over it if not for the fact that her name was written across the front in careful, looping handwriting that immediately felt out of place among the stack of flyers and utility bills on the small table by her apartment door.
She stopped, and set her dance bag down, picking up the envelope and turning it over in her hands while a strange, familiar feeling settled in her chest, one she didn’t quite have a name for but definitely recognised, and when she saw the return address her breath caught just slightly, because some names had a way of doing that to you even years later.
It was Riley.
Her heart gave a small, traitorous jump as she stared at it, already knowing what it was before she opened it and yet still hesitating, fingers lingering on the edge of the paper like she was bracing herself for something more than just an invitation, like it might somehow change things just by existing.
She finally slid her finger under the seal and unfolded the card, and there it was in neat, elegant script.
Riley and James, getting married, together in a way that felt both completely inevitable and somehow still surreal, and Michelle smiled before she could stop herself, slow and genuine, reading the whole thing even though the meaning had sunk in after the first line, because of course Riley would do something like this, formal and heartfelt and probably planned down to the tiniest detail, because that was who she was.
It felt good, knowing this, knowing that some parts of their world had stayed steady even while everything else had shifted. For a moment Michelle let herself just sit with that warmth before her phone buzzed in her hand and pulled her back to the present.
“Hey, Mom,” she answered, balancing the phone between her shoulder and ear as she bent down to grab her bag, still holding the invitation like she was afraid if she put it down it might disappear.
“Hi, sweetheart! What are you up to?” her mom asked, cheerful as always. “At the studio again?”
“About to head there, yeah,” Michelle said, glancing at the clock. “But, um… listen to this, I actually just got an invitation to Riley’s wedding.”
“Oh my goodness!” her mom exclaimed immediately. “That’s wonderful, I always knew those two would end up together.”
Michelle laughed softly, the sound warm and a little nostalgic. “Yeah, they’ve kind of always been inevitable.”
Her mom sighed in that way that meant she was already halfway lost in memories. “It feels like just yesterday you were all dancing together in that tiny studio, you, Riley, James… those were the A-Troupe days, weren’t they?”
“Yeah,” Michelle said, smiling despite herself. “Feels like a lifetime ago.”
“And Riley’s sister—Emily,” her mom added casually, like she wasn’t about to knock the emotional air out of Michelle’s lungs with one single name. “She was always around too.”
Michelle froze just a second too long, and she knew immediately that she’d been caught, because her mom had always been too good at noticing when something shifted in her voice, when a conversation suddenly felt different.
“Y-yeah,” she said, hating the way her voice cracked just slightly. “Emily.”
“Oh, I remember when you two couldn’t stand each other,” her mom continued, completely unaware or maybe very aware of what she was doing, “and then suddenly you were attached at the hip, I don’t think I ever saw such a dramatic turnaround.”
Michelle swallowed, her brain doing that unhelpful thing where it decided now was the perfect time to replay memories she had very carefully packed away, of long rehearsals and shared laughs and quiet moments that had felt too important to talk about out loud. “We just… grew up,” she said, because it was easier than saying anything else. “Got over stuff.”
“Mmhmm,” her mom replied, in the exact tone that meant she absolutely did not believe that was the whole story, and there was a brief pause before she added more gently, “Emily will be at the wedding, right?”
Michelle’s chest tightened at the question, because she hadn’t let herself think that far yet, hadn’t really let herself consider what it would mean to be in the same room again after three years of distance and silence and unsent messages, but now that the thought was there it refused to go away.
“I— I mean, she’s Riley’s sister, so— yeah, probably,” Michelle said quickly, words tumbling over each other before she could stop them, “but I haven’t really talked to her in a while, so I don’t really know her plans, and it’s not like we— I mean, obviously she’ll be there, but—”
“Michelle,” her mom interrupted softly.
Michelle stopped mid-ramble, realizing she’d started pacing around her apartment without even noticing, invitation still clutched in one hand, phone in the other.
“Are you okay?” her mom asked.
“Yeah. Totally. I’m fine. It’s just a wedding,” Michelle said too fast, because apparently her mouth was determined to betray her today. “It’s not a big deal.”
Her mom was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke again her voice was gentler. “You know, it’s okay if it is a big deal.”
Michelle closed her eyes, because that was the problem, wasn’t it, that it felt like one even though she kept telling herself it shouldn’t, because they hadn’t fought and they hadn’t had some dramatic falling out, there had been no final argument or big emotional goodbye, just distance and missed calls and the slow, quiet shift from us to we used to.
“I should really go,” Michelle said finally, needing the conversation to end before her voice gave her away. “Rehearsal’s starting soon.”
“All right, sweetheart,” her mom replied. “But I’m glad you got that invitation. I think seeing everyone again might be good for you.”
“Yeah,” Michelle whispered. “Maybe.”
After she hung up, Michelle stood there for a long moment, phone still in her hand, staring at nothing, because now that it had been said out loud it felt real in a way it hadn’t before, that Emily would be there, that she would see her again after three years since the tour, since shared hotel rooms and late-night talks and pretending she didn’t notice how close they always ended up sitting, three years since she’d stopped letting herself wonder what might have happened if things had been different.
She shoved the invitation into her bag and headed for the door before she could overthink it, locking her apartment behind her and letting the cool evening air hit her face as she walked, trying to let the familiar routine ground her, telling herself that this was just another day, just another rehearsal, just another reminder of the life she had built here, even if her thoughts kept circling back to one unavoidable truth that made her chest feel too tight.
The studio was loud when she arrived, music already blasting through the walls before she even opened the door, the familiar rhythm of bodies moving and voices calling out counts wrapping around her the second she stepped inside, and for a moment she let herself just stand there, taking it all in, the scuffed floors, the mirrors she’d spent half her life in front of, the place that had watched her grow up and then somehow become the place she was responsible for now.
“Okay, five-minute warm-up, then we’re running the piece,” Michelle called automatically, her voice slipping into that confident, authoritative tone that still sometimes surprised her, and the dancers groaned but moved anyway, stretching and shaking out their limbs while she walked the perimeter of the room, correcting posture here, offering encouragement there, letting the small, practical details pull her attention away from everything she wasn’t ready to think about.
This was easier, focusing on counts and spacing and whether someone’s turn had enough control, easier than letting her mind wander back to hotel hallways and tour buses and the way Emily used to steal her hoodie when she was cold and then pretend it was an accident.
Easier than wondering what she was supposed to say when she saw her again after all this time, when so much had changed and yet somehow nothing felt resolved.
She threw herself into rehearsal, running sections over and over, pushing the dancers harder than usual and telling herself it was because competition season was coming up and not because she needed the distraction.
Not because standing still felt dangerous right now, not because every quiet moment left too much room for memories she had carefully packed away and labeled as not now, not yet, and it worked, at least for a while, until the music finally stopped and the building slowly emptied out, voices fading, lights dimming, the energy draining away until there was nothing left but the quiet hum of the air system and the echo of her own thoughts.
Michelle found herself sitting on the floor of Studio A with her back against the mirror, exhaustion settling into her bones in that heavy, familiar way that usually felt comforting but tonight just made everything feel too still. Without really thinking about it she pulled out her phone and scrolled until she found Emily’s contact.
Because she hadn’t deleted it, and she never would.
Her thumb hovered over the screen.
Hey, I heard about Riley’s wedding… Too formal.
Guess I’ll see you at the wedding? Too casual.
She locked her phone again, heart beating a little too fast, because she wasn’t ready for that conversation yet, wasn’t ready to find out if things would feel the same or painfully different or somehow both, but whether she liked it or not she was going to have it soon, because Emily was coming back into her life, and Michelle had no idea how she was supposed to pretend that didn’t change everything.