Beatrice Fairbanks stood in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling mirror in her Upper East Side apartment, her fingers adjusting the hem of her dress. The sunlight streaming through the window cast a warm glow over her, but her mind was elsewhere—lost in a tangle of thoughts and memories. She was preparing for another one of the endless cocktail parties that dotted her social calendar. Parties where she would laugh, smile, and charm her way through the night, always the center of attention, always performing.

The lyrics from Taylor Swift's "mirrorball" floated in her mind: "I'm still on that trapeze, I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me." It hit her in a way that made her pause, the weight of it sinking into her bones. She had always been the mirrorball, always reflecting what everyone wanted to see. Whether it was at parties, in relationships, or with her friends, Beatrice had spent her life shining for others, hoping someone would notice the cracks beneath the surface.

A knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts. Conrad, her on-again, off-again boyfriend, stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame with that infuriatingly charming smile of his.

"You look beautiful," he said, his voice soft but sincere.

Beatrice smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Thanks, Con. You're early."

He shrugged, stepping into the room and giving her a once-over. "I wanted to see you before the party. Make sure you're not going to charm the pants off every man there before I even arrive."

Beatrice laughed, shaking her head. "Please, it's the same people, the same conversation. Nothing new under the sun."

Conrad studied her for a moment, his smile fading slightly. "You don't sound too excited about it."

Beatrice sighed, turning back to the mirror and running a hand through her perfectly styled hair. "It's just... exhausting sometimes, you know? The same performance, over and over. Everyone expects me to be 'on' all the time. I don't even know if I'm doing it for me anymore."

Conrad stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. "You don't have to perform for me."

Beatrice's heart skipped a beat at his words, and for a moment, she allowed herself to lean into the comfort of his touch. But the truth was, she wasn't sure if she believed him. They had been through so much, and no matter how hard she tried to be the version of herself she thought he wanted, there was always something keeping them from really connecting.

"I know," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I don't know how to stop."


Later that evening, the party was in full swing. Beatrice moved effortlessly through the crowd, a glass of champagne in her hand as she laughed and mingled with everyone from old friends to total strangers. Her smile never faltered, her laugh always came at the right moments, and yet, beneath the surface, she felt like she was spinning out of control.

Conrad was across the room, deep in conversation with a group of his art world friends, and Beatrice couldn't help but feel the distance between them. They had been together for years, but lately, it felt like they were living in two different worlds—worlds that didn't quite align no matter how hard she tried to bridge the gap.

As she moved through the crowd, she spotted Lucy, her best friend, sitting on one of the plush couches near the window, a glass of wine in hand. Beatrice made her way over, grateful for the chance to take a break from the performance.

"Hey, stranger," Lucy said with a grin as Beatrice sat down beside her. "You've been doing your usual social butterfly routine, I see."

Beatrice smiled, though it felt forced. "You know me. Always the life of the party."

Lucy raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of her wine. "But are you actually having fun? Or are you just pretending to?"

Beatrice let out a small laugh, though there was no real humor in it. "I'm always pretending, aren't I?"

Lucy's expression softened, and she reached out to take Beatrice's hand. "You don't have to pretend with me. What's going on?"

Beatrice hesitated for a moment, glancing around the room at the glittering lights, the polished people, and the endless conversations that all felt so meaningless. She turned back to Lucy, her voice quiet. "I don't know. I just... I feel like I'm always trying to be what everyone else wants me to be. The perfect girlfriend, the perfect hostess, the perfect everything. But I don't know if I even like who I am anymore."

Lucy frowned, her voice gentle. "You don't have to be perfect, Bea. You just have to be you. Whoever that is."

Beatrice's eyes welled up with unshed tears, and she quickly looked away, not wanting to break down in the middle of the party. "But what if 'me' isn't enough? What if it never has been?"

Lucy squeezed her hand, her voice filled with affection. "It's more than enough. You're more than enough. You just have to believe it."


As the night wore on, Beatrice found herself standing alone on the balcony, the cool night air providing a much-needed reprieve from the noise and heat of the party inside. She stared out at the city, her mind racing with everything Lucy had said. Was she enough? Could she be enough if she stopped trying so hard to shine for everyone else?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening behind her. She didn't need to turn around to know it was Conrad. His presence was familiar, and yet, there was always a distance between them—a distance she didn't know how to cross.

"You disappeared," Conrad said softly as he joined her by the railing. "I've been looking for you."

Beatrice smiled weakly. "I needed some air."

Conrad nodded, leaning against the railing beside her. "You seem... off tonight. What's going on?"

Beatrice hesitated, biting her lip as she tried to find the right words. This was the moment—her chance to be honest with him, to tell him how she really felt. But the fear of what might happen if she did kept her silent.

Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do you ever feel like you're just... going through the motions? Like you're always performing for everyone else, but you're not sure who you are anymore?"

Conrad frowned, his brow furrowing in concern. "What do you mean?"

Beatrice turned to face him, her eyes searching his for some kind of understanding. "I mean... I don't know if I can keep being this person everyone expects me to be. I don't know if I even want to be."

Conrad was quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping to the ground. "Are you saying you don't want to be with me?"

Beatrice's heart clenched at the vulnerability in his voice. "No, that's not what I'm saying. I'm just... I'm scared that if I keep pretending to be this version of myself that I think you want, I'm going to lose who I really am."

Conrad looked up at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and hurt. "But I love you, Bea. Isn't that enough?"

Beatrice sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I love you too, but love isn't the problem. The problem is that I don't know how to be real with you. With anyone."

Conrad reached out, gently taking her hand. "You don't have to be perfect for me. I don't need you to be the life of the party, or always on, or any of that. I just need you to be you."

Beatrice's eyes filled with tears, and this time, she didn't try to hold them back. "But what if I don't know who that is anymore?"

Conrad pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as she cried against his chest. "Then we'll figure it out together."


The party began to wind down, and the guests trickled out one by one. Beatrice and Conrad remained on the balcony, the weight of their conversation still lingering between them. It wasn't a perfect resolution, but it was a start—one that Beatrice desperately needed.

As they stood there in the quiet of the night, Beatrice thought about everything that had happened, everything she had been through. She wasn't sure where things would go from here, but for the first time in a long time, she felt like she could breathe. She didn't have to be the mirrorball anymore, constantly shining for everyone else.

Maybe, just maybe, she could learn to shine for herself.