Mira

"The only reason I'm bringing him up is because I think this will be the final step you need to move on."

She points to the computer as if it holds the solution to all of humanity's problems.

"I've already moved on."

"I know, but there's still a small part of you that's afraid to pursue the dreams he stole from you."

In reality, he took much more from me: I lost the creative drive I once had. Tears fill my eyes.

"The bullshit he said about your abilities was only a distraction to keep you from submitting the same project he did. You know that, right?"

"But,"

"No buts. Victor lied to hold you back because he wanted to steal your idea."

In theory, Elise's explanation makes sense. Yet I still can't be certain. My friend takes my hand and squeezes it between hers.

"This is your chance to prove to yourself that other people's words don't define you. Only your actions do."

My heart tightens.

"I don't know..."

"Come on, do it. Submit one teeny-tiny little concept. It's no big deal. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Well, where should I start? I,"

Elise covers my mouth with her hand.

"That was a rhetorical question!"

I remain skeptical.

"Why are you pushing me so hard to enter?"

"That's what friends are for. We have to encourage each other to step outside our comfort zones. Because if nothing scares you..."

"You aren't growing," I finish, returning her smile.

"So, what do you say?"

I take my phone from my pocket and search for an email I received last week.

"Speaking of comfort zones... I've been meaning to mention this, and it looks like now is the perfect time. Because if nothing scares you..." I say teasingly.

"Oh, no..."

My smile widens.

"If I submit an idea to Wondervale management, you're going to apply for the apprenticeship at the Royal Castle. They have an opening in the kitchen that would be perfect for you."

Her smile disappears.

"This wasn't supposed to be about me."

"We're a team, you and me. If I push my limits, I'm taking you with me."

This is a good opportunity to give Elise a nudge. She never intended to work at The Magic Baguette as a hair and makeup artist for long, but she has never dared reapply for the position that already rejected her once.

"I can't work for them. They have a Michelin star!"

"Even better. You should aim for the very best."

"But I didn't graduate from some prestigious French culinary school!"

She jumps to her feet.

"No, but you still have a degree and tons of restaurant experience from your college jobs."

Elise throws her arms in the air, exasperated.

"I burned cookies last week!"

"Only because you forgot to set the timer," I shoot back with a laugh.

"The entire building had to be evacuated because of the fire alarm. No one will ever trust me in a kitchen after that!"

"Don't make such a big deal out of it."

She collapses onto the couch again and lays her head in my lap.

"You weren't supposed to blackmail me..."

"What are friends for?"

"Oh, I don't know. Anything but forcing each other's hand?"

"Come on, Elise," I say with a smile. "Are you in?"

"You're way too cheerful for someone who was against this idea five minutes ago."

"I'm taking advantage of an opportunity that came my way."

"Just so you know, if I agree, it's because I want to see you pursue your dreams. That's worth the risk of being rejected again."

Her words move me.

"Of course. It's the same for me. I'd like to see you try again. Otherwise, you'll end up like Mrs. Jeffries, working at the salon until you retire at ninety."

"Now you're just being deliberately cruel," Elise replies with a pout.

We burst out laughing before sealing our agreement with a handshake.

As I flip through the yellowed pages of my idea notebook, bitter memories come flooding back. I trace Owen's handwriting across the pages containing our suggestions for Nebula Land, a new area of the park we dreamed up.

He and I spent weeks working on it after he rejected my initial proposal. He thought I could improve it and guided me along the way. Together, we imagined a new vision for Nebula Land.

The concept was supposed to earn me a place on the park's Creators team. After Owen's accident, submitting the project didn't feel right, so I waited. I was surprised to read a presentation of my idea in the company newsletter. My boyfriend had stolen the main elements I'd shared with him in private.

What would Owen think of what Victor did to our work? The Nebula Land attraction looks nothing like our original plan. I let out a long breath. As I study one of Owen's illustrations, my lungs burn and my eyes fill with tears.

Criticizing Victor's project won't help you find another idea.

After signing in to my account on the company website, I open the annual submissions portal. The blinking cursor in the empty box feels like it's mocking me, but I refuse to give up. Elise believes in me, and maybe it's time I stopped letting Victor keep me from believing in myself.

Very bad idea. After a mediocre first draft, I decided wine would pair nicely with my broken heart for my second attempt.

Unfortunately, I was wrong.

I'm still back at square one. Everything I write seems far too disappointing, and my usual passion is nowhere to be found. I take another swig of wine straight from the bottle. My mother would be horrified.

What if working through your negative feelings about the Nebula Land attraction helped open your mind to more creative ideas?

Yes! Maybe that's the answer. I delete everything I've written in the text box and start over. At the top, I write "The Real Nebula Land Owen Vale Would Be Proud Of." My fingers fly across the keys as I let out every thought I have about the attraction. I'm tired of staying silent and pretending nothing bothers me.

When I was with Victor, I became that kind of woman: I made myself small and avoided making waves because I prioritized his happiness. In the end, that attitude did nothing for me. I abandoned the woman I was for a man who couldn't accept who I truly was.

After pounding on the keyboard for so long, my fingers begin to cramp. Tearing apart this poor imitation of my work,the one that caused me so much pain,makes me feel powerful. By the time I type the final period, my vision is a little blurry and my coordination isn't at its best.

Writing while tipsy really isn't a good idea. I decide to click the "save draft" button at the bottom of the page and shut down my computer for the night.

"Oh, no!"

Oh, no, no, no.

"Shit! This can't be happening!"

Elise runs into my bedroom.

"What?" my friend asks.

I stare at the application portal.

Impossible. I pinch my arm so hard that I wince. The bright green letters on the screen taunt me. My stomach knots.

Your submission has been received.

Elise looks at the screen over my shoulder.

"You sent your draft without letting me proofread it? Who are you, and what have you done with the real Mira?"

"It was an accident!"

I throw myself onto my bed, cover my face with a pillow, and scream into it at the top of my lungs.

"What if you emailed Mr. Vale and the Creators to explain the mistake?" Elise suggests, stroking my arm reassuringly. "I'm sure they would understand."

I pull away the pillow.

"Are you kidding me? What would I say? 'Sorry, I got a little drunk and submitted an essay ridiculing your most prestigious attraction?'"

She brushes a few strands of hair away from my face.

"Maybe it isn't as terrible as you think..."

"I called Victor's version of Nebula Land a massive pile of shit and said Owen Vale must be turning in his grave."

"Oh. O-kay," she replies with a grimace. "Well. You've always had a way with words. At least your literature degree is useful."

"I can't believe I clicked the wrong button! I never should have been drinking while I worked. What was I thinking?"

Elise sits beside me and wraps her arms around me.

"It was the first big step toward putting the past behind you. Maybe it had to happen this way."

"Yesterday, you said fate was some people's excuse for avoiding making plans."

Her chest shakes with laughter.

"Only because you love declaring at the top of your lungs that fate is responsible for everything and nothing. So what, you only believe in it when things go your way? Your logic seems pretty lousy to me."

"Yeah, but... they could fire me. This is hardly my first screwup."

First I called Elliot an asshole, then I mocked his board of directors, and now I've done something stupid again. If I still have a job at Wondervale tomorrow, they'll put me in charge of picking up trash around the park. And even that would take an incredible amount of luck.

"It's too late anyway," Elise points out, patting my hand affectionately. "You're in it up to your neck."

She points at the green text on the screen. I let out a long sigh.

"All we can do is hope it turns out okay."

What's done is done. I can't change the text I sent, and pouring all my emotions into it was cathartic.

Maybe fate really did have something to do with it.