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The bright lights above me flash like a thousand stars, each one hotter than the sun, each one more relentless than the last. My heels click across the marble floor of the grand hall, their sound echoing in the vast space.
I smile at the cameras, a practiced, perfect smile, the kind I've perfected since I was six years old. My parents always said it was a gift.
I never thought it was much of one. A gift, yes. A burden, also yes.
Tonight, I'm wearing a dress by Valentinoâblack, simple, elegant. It hugs my body like it was made for me, but the weight of it feels like a thousand pounds. Or maybe it's just the weight of the world pressing down on my shoulders. I'm fifteen now, but it feels like I've been living this life for so much longer. I can't remember a time when I wasn't in front of cameras, answering questions I didn't want to answer, playing a role I didn't ask for.
It's not that I hate it, but sometimes, it feels like it's all I know. Like I'm stuck in a loop, always performing, always pretending to be something I'm not. The glitz, the glamour, the adoration of the fansâit's all so much.
So many people want pieces of me, pieces I'm not sure I have left to give.
I glance at the red carpet ahead of me.
It's alive with flashes and voices calling my name, but I barely hear them anymore. The words blur together, muffled by the rush of adrenaline in my veins. My fingers tighten around the strap of my clutch, my nails digging into the soft leather as I remind myself to breathe.
You can do this.
It's just another night.
Just another event.
"Over here, Ava!" A photographer yells, snapping pictures furiously. I turn to face him, the smile still in place, even though my heart is pounding.
"How does it feel to be nominated for yet another award?" another voice calls, and I feel the familiar wave of exhaustion wash over me. The same question. The same answer. The same performance.
I step toward the microphone, my movements graceful and controlled, just like I've been taught. "It's an honor," I say, my voice steady but hollow. "I'm really excited to be here tonight with such talented people."
"Do you think you have a chance at winning?" another journalist asks, and I nod, offering another rehearsed smile. "I mean, it's such an incredible category. But really, it's just a privilege to be part of this industry."
It's the perfect answer. It's safe. It doesn't give away anything. But inside, I feel... lost. Empty. The thrill of winning awards, of being the youngest person to win an Oscar, has long since worn off. Now, it's just another box to check, another headline to live up to. No one seems to care who I really am. They just want the perfect image.
And I've been giving it to them. For years.
As the interview comes to an end, I slip past the velvet ropes and into the event itself. The atmosphere is lushâgolden chandeliers, perfectly arranged floral arrangements, a sea of designer gowns and tuxedos. It's all so beautiful, and yet it feels so fake. I wish I could be one of those people who doesn't care about any of this. I wish I could just be normal.
But normal doesn't exist in my world.
I'm led to a table near the front, where the other nominees are already seated. I offer polite smiles to the few people I recogniseâveteran actresses, producers, directors. I know what they see when they look at me. A child star. A prodigy. The girl who was born to be on the big screen. It's the image I've spent my whole life cultivating, and I hate it.
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The host steps up to the microphone, and the chatter dies down. "Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the annual Golden Globes Awards!" he announces, his voice booming across the room. "Tonight, we celebrate the very best in the film industry, and we're thrilled to have all of you here."
I smile, nodding along, but my mind is elsewhere.
The weight of the evening is pressing down on me, the need to be flawless suffocating me with every passing second. How did I get here? How did I become this person everyone expects me to be?
It's not that I don't love acting. I do. But acting for the sake of art, for the sake of storytellingâthat's not the reason I'm here tonight. I'm here because I've been placed on a pedestal, an image, a brand. People see me as a product, not a person. I'm just a girl in a fancy dress, with a thousand eyes watching my every move, expecting me to be perfect.
The ceremony begins, and I do what I've done for years. I sit up straight. I smile. I laugh at the right moments. I look down at my phone, pretending to read a text as the evening drags on. I see the usual flood of congratulationsâpeople happy for me, but only because of what I represent. Not because they care about me. Not really.
"Ava," someone says, and I look up to find my publicist, Kate, standing at the edge of the table. "There's someone who wants to speak with you."
I stand up, feeling my spine stiffen as I follow Kate through the crowd. I'm always being led around, always being told what to do, what to say, where to be. It's exhausting, but it's the only life I know.
We reach a small, quiet corner of the room where a man in a sharp suit is waiting for me. His smile is wide, genuine, and I can see the gleam of excitement in his eyes. I recognise him as one of the film producers who's been circling my career for a while.
"Hi, Ava," he says, extending a hand. "It's great to finally meet you. I'm Ben Marks. I've been following your work for years. You're absolutely incredible."
I shake his hand, offering the usual polite smile. "Thank you," I say, my voice light.
"I'm actually here because I have some exciting news for you," Ben continues, his voice lowering as if to share a secret. "We've been watching your performances, and I'm happy to tell you that you've been cast in our next big project."
I freeze for a moment. My heart skips a beat. "Really?" I ask, my voice a little shaky. I wasn't expecting this. It's been a while since anyone made me an offer. The industry tends to forget about you if you don't keep proving yourself. And I haven't been actively seeking new projects lately. I've been... distracted.
Ben grins. "Yes, and I'm sure you're going to love this one. You're going to star opposite none other than Walker Scobell."
Walker Scobell.
The name lands like a bomb in my chest. I know exactly who he isâevery teen in Hollywood knows him. He's the rising star, the next big thing. The guy who's been stealing hearts and headlines with his charm, his natural talent, and his authenticity. I've seen his movies, and I can't help but be impressed. He's the kind of actor I've always admired from a distance. But to be in a film with him? That's a big deal.
Ben sees my stunned expression and adds, "It's a huge blockbuster project, and we're expecting it to be one of the biggest hits of the year. The chemistry between you two is going to be electric."
I swallow, trying to wrap my head around the words. Walker Scobell. I'm going to work with him. The thought is both thrilling and terrifying.
I nod slowly, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips. "That sounds... amazing," I say, the excitement building inside me despite the nerves. This is my chance to prove myself again, to do something real, something that isn't about the image everyone has created for me.
"Great," Ben says. "I'll send over the contract details. Let's get this going, huh?"
As I nod, I realize I've forgotten to breathe.
My heart is racing, the excitement palpable. For the first time in what feels like forever, I'm not thinking about the pressures of perfection. I'm thinking about what comes nextâabout the possibility of stepping into something new, something real.
And for the first time in a long while, I feel alive.
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