Canon

It had been days since the actor strike had ended, and the feeling of normalcy was slowly returning to the set of Wicked. The energy was a little lighter, but the pause had left Ariana with an odd sense of restlessness. For weeks, she had been caught between a mixture of excitement and uncertainty. The waiting was over now, but the aftermath of the downtime still lingered in the back of her mind.

The opportunity to audition for a new role, however, had come as a surprise during the strike.

Ariana had been scrolling through her phone one afternoon, trying to stave off the boredom when a message from her manager popped up. She had read it twice before it fully sunk in.

The role she’d been offered was one she’d never anticipated. It was an opportunity to break out of the mold that had been so carefully constructed around her, to play a character who was more complicated than any of the roles she’d previously taken on. 

Her manager’s message had been short, direct, and full of urgency: “There’s an opportunity for you to audition for this role. It’s big, Ariana. I know the timing is tricky, but this could be it. The audition’s next week. You in?”

At first, Ariana had been hesitant, especially with everything going on around her—Wicked still taking up so much of her time, the strike, the general exhaustion of having so many irons in the fire. But she couldn’t resist. This was the kind of role she had always wanted to pursue, a chance to stretch her skills in a way that felt meaningful. So, despite the unpredictability of the strike, she agreed.

Now, here she was, sitting beside Cynthia in the car, driving to the audition that could change everything.

The sun was beginning to peek through the clouds as Cynthia and Ariana sat in the car, the hum of the engine blending with the soft indie playlist playing through the speakers. Cynthia had insisted on driving Ariana to the audition—it wasn’t even up for debate. She knew Ariana, and she knew how much this opportunity meant to her.

As they pulled onto the highway, Cynthia glanced over at Ariana, who was staring out the window. Her usual high ponytail was replaced with loose waves, cascading over her shoulders. She wore a simple but elegant outfit, the kind that subtly commanded attention without screaming for it.

“You’ve been quiet,” Cynthia said gently, her hands steady on the steering wheel. “Are you nervous?”

Ariana blinked, as if pulled from her thoughts, and turned to look at Cynthia. “A little,” she admitted, though the way she fidgeted with the hem of her blazer suggested it was more than a little. “It feels like a big deal, especially with the expectations of everyone after being cast for Wicked.”

“That’s because it is a big deal,” Cynthia said with a small smile, glancing at her briefly before returning her eyes to the road. “But you’ve done big deals before. Wicked? You’re crushing it. This is just another chance to show them what you’ve got.”

Ariana gave a soft laugh, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, but what if I don’t? What if they don’t think I’m good enough?”

Cynthia reached over, her hand finding Ariana’s and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve already proved you’re good enough, Ari. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be you.”

Ariana looked down at their intertwined hands, her chest tightening. She wanted to believe Cynthia’s words, but the knot in her stomach was stubborn. “You make it sound so simple,” she murmured.

“It is simple,” Cynthia replied, her tone light but firm. “You’ve got the talent. You’ve got the work ethic. And you’ve got that thing—what do they call it? Star power.”

Ariana rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love me for it,” Cynthia teased, squeezing her hand again before letting go to turn onto the exit ramp.

The car fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound coming from the music and the soft purr of the engine. Ariana stared out the window again, mentally running through her lines, her blocking, her tone. She’d practiced endlessly for this moment, but now that it was here, it felt impossibly huge.

As they pulled up to the studio lot, Cynthia parked the car and turned to Ariana, her expression soft but serious. “You’ve got this,” she said, her voice low and full of conviction. “I know it, and you know it. Just go in there and do your thing.”

Ariana nodded, swallowing hard as she reached for the door handle. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll see you after?”

“Of course,” Cynthia said, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

Ariana stepped out of the car, clutching her bag tightly. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked toward the building.

Cynthia watched her until she disappeared inside, a mix of pride and nervousness swirling in her chest.

The waiting room was quieter than usual, the soft buzz of muffled conversations and the faint rustling of papers the only sounds breaking the silence. Ariana sat stiffly in one of the sleek chairs, her script clutched tightly in her lap. Her fingers nervously traced the worn edges of the pages, a small habit she had developed over the years whenever she was waiting for something important. Though she knew the lines by heart, the need to hold the script felt like a lifeline, a physical reminder of all the hours she’d spent preparing.

She glanced around the room, trying not to compare herself to the other actors. Some were chatting casually with their agents or managers, while others sat with eyes closed, mentally rehearsing their lines. Everyone seemed calm, like they belonged there. But Ariana? She was aware of the rapid beat of her heart, the dry feeling in her throat, the doubt creeping up like a shadow, reminding her of the expectations that came with every opportunity.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out without thinking. A message from Cynthia popped up on the screen: “You’ve got this. Don’t forget to have fun. I’m proud of you, always.”

Ariana stared at the message for a moment, letting the familiar words settle in. She had gotten so used to Cynthia’s unwavering support, but right now, she needed more than reassurance. She needed the confidence that Cynthia seemed to have in endless supply.

But the confidence wasn’t hers. Not yet.

The casting assistant called her name, snapping her out of her thoughts. “Ariana Grande? You’re up next.”

Ariana stood quickly, smoothing her blazer as she followed the assistant down a long hallway. Her heels clicked softly against the floor, the sound echoing in her ears as her heartbeat quickened. The hallway felt longer than it was, and by the time they reached the audition room, her nerves had escalated into a tight knot in her stomach.

The audition room was large, bright, and sterile. It was the kind of space that felt like it was designed to make you feel small. A long table was set up in the middle, surrounded by a handful of people who had likely seen hundreds of actors come through the door. Behind the table sat the director, producers, and casting team, all of them with unreadable expressions. To the side of the room, a camera was set up, operated by a quiet crew member who gave her a polite nod as she entered.

“Hi, Ariana,” the director said warmly, standing to greet her. He was tall, with a relaxed, approachable smile. His presence was slightly comforting, but it didn’t stop the anxiety churning in her stomach. “Thanks for coming in today. We’ve been looking forward to seeing you.”

“Thank you for having me,” Ariana replied, her voice steadier than she felt. She shook his hand and offered polite smiles to the rest of the team before stepping forward to take her mark in front of the camera.

The director gave her a reassuring nod. “Whenever you’re ready, take your time.”

Ariana nodded, inhaling deeply. The first line she had rehearsed was there, at the tip of her tongue, ready to be released. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, centering herself. The nerves, the doubts, the fear—they all started to fade into the background as she reminded herself why she was here. This was what she loved to do. This was her chance to show them what she was capable of.

When she opened her eyes, she wasn’t Ariana anymore. She was the character.

She began the scene, her voice carrying the weight of every emotion she’d practiced. Each movement felt deliberate, yet natural, her expression shifting seamlessly as the dialogue demanded. She lost herself in it. The room, the faces watching her—it all faded away. There was only the moment, the words, and the truth of the character she had stepped into.

She finished the scene, her last line hanging in the air, and for a beat, there was nothing but silence. Her breath came quicker than usual, but the pressure felt manageable now. She blinked, coming back to the present, and turned toward the panel.

The director smiled, a faint nod of approval on his face. “That was fantastic, Ariana. Really well done.”

Ariana exhaled, the weight on her chest lifting just a little. “Thank you,” she said, her voice soft but filled with a sense of relief.

They asked her to run the scene again, but this time with a few small adjustments. Ariana listened intently, taking their notes and incorporating them into her performance effortlessly. Each note she took made her more confident, more sure of herself. The second run-through went even better, the panel’s approving nods and the way they leaned forward slightly made her pulse quicken in a good way.

When the scene concluded, the director stood and gave her a polite, appreciative clap. “Great work, Ariana. We’re all set for today. Thank you so much for coming in.”

Ariana smiled, a little more relaxed now, though the nagging feeling of doubt still lingered. “Thank you for the opportunity,” she replied, bowing her head slightly before leaving the room.

As she walked back down the hallway toward the waiting area, the tension in her chest returned, but this time it was paired with a small flicker of hope. The panel had been kind, but there was always that lingering question—did they mean it? Or were they just being polite?

She walked back to the car, her hands trembling slightly as she opened the door. Cynthia immediately turned down the music and looked over, her eyes scanning Ariana’s face.

“How’d it go?” Cynthia asked, her voice full of curiosity and concern.

Ariana hesitated, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag. “It was… okay, I think,” she said softly, sliding into the passenger seat.

Cynthia frowned, sensing the uncertainty in her tone. “Just okay?”

“They said I did great,” Ariana said quickly, her words spilling out. “But I don’t know. Maybe they were just being nice. It’s hard to tell.”

Cynthia reached over, placing a hand on Ariana’s knee. “Baby, I’m sure you were incredible. Let’s get you home first, okay?”

Ariana nodded, leaning back against the seat. She didn’t say much as Cynthia started the car and pulled onto the road.

The hum of the car engine filled the silence between them as Cynthia glanced sideways at Ariana, who was staring out the window. Her posture was rigid, one arm folded across her chest while the other rested in her lap, fingers absentmindedly fidgeting with the strap of her bag.

Cynthia turned the music on low, a soft, calming melody playing through the speakers. She hoped it might ease some of the tension, but Ariana remained quiet, her gaze fixed on the passing buildings.

Cynthia hesitated, unsure whether to press or let her partner sit with her thoughts. Finally, she broke the silence, keeping her voice gentle. “You’ve been really quiet, babe. You okay?”

Ariana nodded once, her head barely moving. “Yeah,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

Cynthia frowned. She knew Ariana better than that. Something was brewing beneath the surface, but Ariana clearly wasn’t ready to talk about it.

Cynthia decided to try a different approach. “Well, I’m proud of you for going for it, no matter how you feel it went. You’re incredible, Ari. Don’t forget that.”

Ariana’s lips curved into a small, fleeting smile, but she didn’t respond.
As they drove on, Cynthia noticed Ariana’s hand come up to her face. At first, she thought Ariana was brushing her hair out of her eyes, but then she realized her partner’s fingers were wiping at her cheeks.

“Baby,” Cynthia said softly, her heart sinking. “Are you crying?”

Ariana shook her head quickly, but the way she turned her face further toward the window told Cynthia everything she needed to know.

“Talk to me, Ari,” Cynthia pleaded, her voice tinged with worry. “What’s wrong?”

Ariana stayed silent, her shoulders trembling slightly as another sniffle escaped her.

Cynthia sighed, her hands tightening on the steering wheel. She hated seeing Ariana like this—vulnerable and hurting—but she also knew not to push too hard.

“Alright,” Cynthia said after a moment, her tone steady but kind. “You don’t have to say anything right now. Just know that I’m here, okay?”

Ariana nodded faintly, her hand coming up again to swipe at her tears.

The rest of the drive home was quiet, the tension thick but unspoken. By the time they pulled into their driveway, Cynthia’s worry had only grown. She turned off the engine and sat for a moment, watching as Ariana reached for the door handle.

“Do you want to talk inside?” Cynthia asked gently, her voice full of patience.

Ariana hesitated, her hand pausing mid-reach. But she shook her head and stepped out of the car without answering.

Cynthia followed her into the house, closing the door behind them and watching as Ariana kicked off her shoes and dropped her bag by the door. She didn’t head to the living room or kitchen like she usually would. Instead, she walked straight to the bedroom without a word.

Cynthia took a deep breath before following her.

The bedroom was dim, the curtains pulled halfway to block out the fading sunlight. Ariana stood by the edge of their bed, her back to Cynthia as she tried to steady her breath. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, the frustration and anxiety churning inside her like a storm.

Cynthia, ever patient, stood in the doorway, watching as Ariana’s body stiffened. It was clear she was holding everything in—everything she hadn’t said on the car ride home, all the pressure, the fear, the uncertainty.

Ariana finally turned around, her eyes red from the tears she hadn’t let herself shed until now. “I don’t know how you do it, Cyn,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but it was filled with raw emotion. “You’re so… successful. You’ve won an Emmy, a Grammy, a Tony. You’ve been nominated for an Oscar. You’ve done it all. You’re incredible.” Her voice cracked, and she pressed her hands to her face.

Cynthia’s heart hurt at the sight of her partner, the person she loved more than anything, feeling this way. Ariana had always admired Cynthia’s success, but hearing it like this—the admiration mixed with self-doubt—made her want to wrap Ariana in her arms and never let go.

“Ari,” Cynthia began, her voice soft but firm, “you are incredible too. You’ve done so much. Look at what you’ve accomplished in such a short time. Your talent, your heart, the way you make people feel when they see you on stage or on screen—there’s no one like you.”

Ariana shook her head, her tears streaming down her face again. “But it’s not enough. I want to be like you. I want to do everything you’ve done, and I want to make you proud. I don’t want to let you down.”

Cynthia stepped forward slowly, her arms open as if inviting Ariana to come to her. Ariana hesitated, but then her legs gave out, and she fell into Cynthia’s arms, her sobs wracking her body.

Cynthia held her tight, rubbing circles on her back to try to soothe her. “Ari, listen to me. You are not defined by the awards you win or the roles you play. You’re defined by who you are, by your heart. And I’m so proud of you. I’ve seen everything you’ve done, and it’s just the beginning.”

Ariana’s voice was muffled against Cynthia’s chest as she spoke. “But I feel like I’m not doing enough. Like I’ll never be as good as you… like I’ll never be enough for you.”

Cynthia gently pulled back to look at Ariana, her hands cupping her face. “Baby, you are more than enough. And you’re doing everything you need to do. You’ve just stepped back into acting after how long? And already, you’ve been nominated for awards, including the Oscars. That’s incredible. Don’t sell yourself short, okay?”

Ariana wiped at her eyes, sniffing. “But I’m scared. What if I’m not cut out for it? What if I’m not as good as everyone thinks I am?”

Cynthia smiled softly, her heart swelling with affection. “Ari, it’s only been a short while since you came back to the industry. You’re doing more than most people could even dream of, and you’re doing it with grace. It’s okay to have doubts, but don’t let those doubts make you forget how amazing you are.”

Ariana let out a shaky breath and looked up at Cynthia, her tear-streaked face softening ever so slightly. “I just don’t want to let you down,” she whispered.

“You could never let me down,” Cynthia said with complete certainty. “I’m here for you, no matter what. You’re going to keep doing amazing things, but you don’t have to do it alone. I’m by your side through all of it, okay?”

Ariana nodded slowly, still wiping her tears, but the weight on her shoulders seemed to lighten a little.

Cynthia cupped Ariana’s face one more time, her thumb gently brushing over her cheek. “And listen, you don’t need to be like me. You’re already more than enough just being you.”

Ariana leaned into her touch, allowing herself a small, trembling smile. “Thank you, Cyn. I needed to hear that.”

Cynthia leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I’ll always be here to remind you, Ari. Always.”

Ariana’s arms wound around Cynthia’s waist, pulling her closer. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice still shaky but full of gratitude.

“I love you too, more than anything,” Cynthia replied, holding her tightly. “Now, let’s take this one step at a time. No pressure, no rush. You’re doing amazing, and I’m so proud of you.”