Today's Horoscope
• Scorpio
Your instincts are sharper than usual today, pulling you toward someone or something before your mind even catches up to why. Trust that pull, but don't expect clarity right away — some answers reveal themselves slowly, no matter how much you want to solve them now. A small, strange feeling may linger long after the moment has passed. Pay attention to it. It's rarely wrong.
Lucky Color: Black
Lucky Number: 8
Third Person's POV
From a short distance away, Ilay had been keeping an eye on the crowd near his booth when something caught his attention. The mascot, weaving slightly as it walked, its steps a little too unsteady to just be part of the act. He watched a beat longer, brows drawing together, when the mascot's foot caught the uneven pavement.
He was already moving before he'd fully registered it, cutting through the crowd in a few quick strides, just in time to catch her hand before she hit the ground.
Still trying to get a look at him, Dara turned again but so did he, both of them apparently thinking the same thing at the same time. They bumped into each other a second time, her head knocking lightly against his shoulder.
"Oh—sorry," he said quickly, stepping back and raising both hands like he was surrendering.
Dara, still disoriented from the costume's narrow eye holes, tried to angle herself the other way to finally see his face properly. He, at the same time, leaned down slightly to check if she was okay.
They collided a third time.
A few fans nearby couldn't hold back their laughter at the sight, some already pulling out their phones to record.
"Wait — okay, just — stay still for a second," he said, laughing a little himself despite the awkwardness, gently holding her by the shoulders to stop the both of them from moving.
Dara froze. Through the mesh covering her eyes, she finally got a clear look at him.
It was Ilay.
Her heart nearly stopped. Of all the people to catch her, of all the people to end up in this ridiculous almost-hug not once but three times, it had to be him. The president of her own fan club. The one person who, if he ever found out it was her under this costume, would never let her hear the end of it.
She panicked, taking a step back and giving a small, stiff wave, trying to signal that she was fine, hoping he'd just let it go and walk away.
But Ilay didn't take the hint.
"Are you sure you're okay? You looked pretty dizzy back there," he said, concern clear in his voice as he crouched slightly to try and meet her eye level through the mask. "Do you want to sit down somewhere? I can walk you to first aid if you need it."
Dara shook her head quickly, waving her paws in front of her, trying to wordlessly say she was fine, please don't worry about it, please just go.
"You don't have to be shy about it," he said gently, clearly misreading her panic as embarrassment. "It's okay to admit you're not feeling well. Being a mascot in this heat can't be easy."
She shook her head even more insistently this time, backing up a step, silently begging the universe for an exit.
"Hey, I'm serious. Let me at least walk you back somewhere cooler—"
"Dara!"
The shout cut through the noise of the crowd, and both of them turned toward it. It was one of the event staff, hurrying over with a walkie-talkie in hand, panic all over his face. Clearly having mistaken the mascot for someone else at first, before catching himself.
"I — I mean, uh — Ms. Cat!" he corrected quickly, glancing nervously at Ilay before lowering his voice. "They need you backstage right now. It's urgent."
Inside the costume, Dara couldn't hide the wide, relieved grin spreading across her face, hidden safely behind the mesh. Relief and something else. A giddy, embarrassed sort of happiness she couldn't quite explain, bubbled up all at once. She'd just been caught, not once but three times, by Ilay of all people, and somehow gotten away with it. It felt like winning a small, ridiculous prize she hadn't even meant to enter for.
She gave Ilay one last small wave, a rushed, grateful sort of gesture, before all but bolting toward the staff member, moving as fast as the bulky costume would allow.
Ilay watched her go, brows furrowed slightly, something about the whole exchange nagging at the back of his mind, though he couldn't quite place what.
"Weird," he murmured to himself, before turning to head back toward his own booth.
The moment they were out of sight from the crowd, the staff member picked up his pace, practically jogging now.
"This way, hurry," he said, guiding her through a side door and down a narrow hallway back toward the dressing rooms.
The second the door shut behind them, Dara reached up, fumbling with the latch under the mascot's chin, desperate to get some air.
"Wait, let me," the staff member said, quickly helping her unhook it before lifting the heavy head off entirely.
Dara gasped in a full breath, her face flushed and damp with sweat, some strands of hair sticking to her forehead.
"Are you okay? You look really out of it," he said, concern flashing across his face now that he could actually see her.
"I'm fine, just — really hot in there," Dara said between breaths, waving off his worry with a shaky laugh.
They hadn't gone much further when Liz came rushing around the corner, phone still in hand, clearly having sprinted the whole way.
"Dara!" she said, breathless, relief and irritation warring on her face all at once. "Someone told me they saw the mascot stumble out there. Are you insane? I told you if you weren't back—"
"I'm okay, I'm okay," Dara said quickly, still trying to catch her breath. "It wasn't that bad, I promise."
Liz didn't look convinced, pressing the back of her hand to Dara's forehead without warning.
"You're burning up," she said, voice sharp with worry now. "That's it. No more walking around after this. You should be resting, not chasing after fans in a hundred-degree costume."
They hadn't even finished the exchange when a sharp voice cut through the hallway.
"What is going on here?"
Both of them froze. Ms. Aye was walking briskly toward them, heels clicking hard against the floor, her expression tight in a way neither of them had seen much of before.
"Ms. Aye—" Liz started, straightening up immediately.
"Save it," Ms. Aye said, holding up a hand. Her eyes swept from Dara's flushed face to the mascot head tucked under the staff member's arm, and her jaw tightened further. "Do you have any idea what would have happened if someone had gotten a video of you collapsing out there? In that costume, in this heat, with a fever no one but Liz apparently knew about?"
"It didn't happen, Ms. Aye. I'm fine," Dara said quickly.
"That's not the point," Ms. Aye snapped, cutting her off. "It's not about whether it happened. It's about what it could have cost you — us — if it had. One video, one bad headline, and suddenly it's not 'Dara pushed herself too hard for her fans.' It's 'Dara collapses during reckless publicity stunt.' Do you understand how fast that story writes itself?"
Dara opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She hadn't thought of it that way, hadn't thought past the fans, the booths, the excitement of seeing it all up close.
Ms. Aye turned to Liz next, her voice sharpening even further. "And you. You're her assistant. Not her friend first, her assistant first. Your job was to say no, not to help her into a costume because she looked at you a certain way."
"I know," Liz said, quieter now, not making excuses. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry doesn't undo the risk you both just took," Ms. Aye said. She exhaled hard, pressing her fingers briefly against her temple, and for a moment something flickered across her face. Something closer to real fear than anger. But it passed quickly, smoothed back over into the same clipped, controlled tone. "I need both of you to understand something. I don't get to just be happy for Dara when good things happen and comforting when bad things happen. I have to think about what protects her career, every single time, even when neither of you want to hear it. That's my job. That's what I signed up for when I took this on."
The hallway went quiet for a second. Dara looked down at the mascot head still in the staff member's hands, unsure what to say.
"I care about you, Dara. I hope you know that," Ms. Aye continued, her voice softer now but still edged with something unresolved. "But sometimes caring about you means being the person who says no, even when it makes me the bad guy in the room. I'd rather be that than watch you lose everything you've worked for because no one wanted to stop you."
She glanced at the clock on the wall, and just like that, the moment closed, her tone snapping back into brisk efficiency.
"We don't have time to finish this properly right now. Get her water, get the medic in here, get her ready. We'll talk more after the show." She was already turning to leave as she said it, not waiting for a response.
Liz let out a breath she seemed to have been holding the whole time, glancing at Dara. "...Come on. Let's get you sitting down."
Dara nodded slowly, following her, though her mind lingered a moment longer on what Ms. Aye had said — sometimes caring about you means being the person who says no. She wasn't sure yet whether she believed it, or whether it just stung.
By the time the medic had checked her over and Liz was satisfied enough to let her breathe, there wasn't much time left before doors officially opened. The dressing room buzzed with quiet, practiced energy, hairstylists doing final touch-ups, the wardrobe team steaming her outfit one last time, someone taping down a loose wire near her in-ear monitor.
Dara sat still through all of it, her mind only half-present, the image of Ilay's startled face still replaying at the edges of her thoughts. She caught herself smiling for no reason more than once, quickly biting it back before anyone could ask why.
"Five minutes, everyone," came the call from outside the door, and just like that, the quiet buzz sharpened into focused energy.
Liz crouched down in front of her one last time, adjusting the in-ear monitor gently.
"You've got this," she said, softer now. "Just remember what I said — if it gets to be too much, give the signal."
Dara nodded, taking one last steadying breath.
"I will. Promise." She said.
The stage manager's voice crackled through the headset moments later.
"Places, everyone. We're live in three."
The dull roar of the crowd outside grew louder as the countdown played over the arena speakers, thousands of voices chanting in unison, growing more electric with every passing second.
Dara closed her eyes for just a moment, letting the noise wash over her, before stepping into position as the lights dimmed and the countdown reached its final beat.
~