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A/N: Hi! This is technically my second Phantom of the Opera fanfic, though I'm working on another at the same time, so I'll be updating this one first before the other. I hope you guys like it! :)

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"Okay everyone, before rehearsal is dismissed, I want to tell everyone to get a good night's rest and save your voices for the performance on Friday!"

The director smiles proudly at the entire cast, and we all return it with exhaustion. Weeks upon weeks of rehearsing and the show is in only a few days. Blood, sweat, and tears have been put into this play, which definitely shows. I am proud to be the lead of this show with such amazing people. A college putting on The Phantom of the Opera sure has standards, and I believe we could come close in the least.

As everyone leaves, the director's eyes land right on me. "You especially, Alia. Rest that angelic voice of yours. You've done brilliantly."

I smile, but deep down, I am disappointed. Everything about this show has been perfect, except me. Being the role of Christine, it's proven difficult to match her perfect voice, even though I take lessons from an opera singer herself. I can't help but feel inadequate for this role, but no one else has the range nor the looks for it, which landed me this part. I'm only a sophomore in college, but the honor is great to already have such an outstanding role. It's been my dream, since The Phantom of the Opera is my favorite book AND movie AND production ever. Well, books. I own the books from Leroux, to Susan Kay, watched the countless performances live on Broadway, and binge watched the movies several times.

You could say I'm a Phangirl.

Ultimately, I aim to perfect this role as a dream of mine and really shine like the stars. Hopefully, everything goes right on show night, and the best memories of my life can be made.

"No question there," I reply to the director and take the veil out from my tightly curled hair. My resemblance to the Christine in the movies is uncanny, the only difference being my naturally straight hair, and my blue eyes. And the lightened scar that streaks across my temple and down my cheek. I turn back around before going backstage, "I'm still okay to come in and practice a few verses tonight, right? I just need to clean up a couple things."

"Anytime, sweetheart," the director nods, throwing on her coat. "Just be sure to lock up when you're done and get to bed at a reasonable time."

"Sure thing."

If I'm going to be a comparable Christine, then I must practice until it's perfect. I can't let anything slide, or I won't have reached my dream.

Everyone starts heading out, and I am backstage putting my costume on the hanger. Such a heavy wedding dress. But it's pretty, I think, clipping the veil on the hanger as well. I turn to leave, but a tall obstacle blocks my way with a pearly smile. I jump a little, laughing nervously.

"Ivan, don't sneak up on me like that. You'll give me a heart attack."

Ivan, of course, is still wearing the Phantom mask from rehearsal, along with his tailored suit costume. He stands with a cheeky smile and a blush at his cheeks. "Didn't mean to scare you, Lia. I just wanted to check up on you."

"Check up on what?"

His eyes round. "I-uh, like, how you are and everything, after this 5 hour practice. You must be tired... But you did amazing! Dont take that the wrong way..."

He stands and scratches his blonde hair, the black wig in his other hand. I give him a gentle look. "I'm well. Tired, yes, but nothing a few hours of sleep can't fix."

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