Queen of Hearts

Earlier today, I wrote about the magic of an unprepared ending. I didn’t know I’d get to live one by nightfall.

At 4pm, I walked into my last ballet class of the season with David Campos. It had been two weeks of doing everything but ballet—Mallorca trip, gym dates with Mr. International, capoeira, even a barre class (at least I got close). And before I’m painted a slacker, let’s not forget the six months of six-day-a-week training that came before. These two weeks were well earned.

The thing about ballet is this: the moment I step away, something inside me begins to hollow—and the moment I return, it fills. It’s always been my first and longest love. More than just a beautiful art form that brings me home to myself, ballet has also been the place where I’ve found my deepest, most soul-reflective friendships.

Enter: La Ballerine. My soul-sister of the studio. Some friendships begin quietly in the wings and suddenly spill out onto every stage of your life. That’s what she became.

The evening began in true ballerina-off-duty fashion—spontaneous, unplanned, not an ounce of rehearsal. We played a game of shouting directions at each turn—left, right, straight—until we found our way to the metro. And from the second we got on that train, life made it clear: we were in the middle of something enchanted.

Less than a minute in, two women began playing “Stand By Me.” One on cello. One on flute. We swayed silently, mouthing the words. With the only instruments we know, we danced. The metro had chosen us. And the lyrics hit different when you’re standing beside the very person who knows how to breathe life into an ending.

I called the next move: we’d get off at Urquinaona, the stop I used for university. As we surfaced, we were greeted by a circle of elders sketching the buildings in front of them—each one quietly coloring the world in their own way. Just like us.

Next move: La Ballerine’s favorite hotel rooftop. As we got in line, a bird left its mark—the exact same spot on both our dance bags. Soulmates, confirmed.

We toasted the night with strawberry daiquiris (thank you, waitress), pulled out my signed pointe shoe, and read the notes from our classmates—squealing at every sweet memory sealed in ink.

Why does it sometimes take an ending for people to finally say how they feel?

That’s when La Ballerine turned reflective. She always calls people “humans”—her signature—and looked around the rooftop, brow furrowed.
“Why are we all sitting this close and still feel so far apart?” she asked.
Invisible walls.

And then, just like that, ours disappeared.

A mom and two girls approached us, giggling. “They had to say something,” the mom explained, “because yesterday, they wore the exact same outfits as you both.”
I blinked. The black top. White linen. The green tee. The claw clip. Things we threw on without thought. Yet somehow, it became the thread that stitched us together and diffused the invisible walls.

We swapped names. One of them is about to start her own Barcelona study abroad journey. We took a video, made plans to meet again, and later realized they were in the background of our earlier videos—debating whether to come say hi.

They told us they had seen us reading the pointe shoe and decided we seemed kind. What a beautiful thing to be witnessed in a moment of softness—and to be received with the same.

We tried to play cards next, but the wind had other plans. Three flew off. All hearts. Including the Queen. We signed her back with “H & E” and tucked her away.

Our final stop was a street performance of “Creep.” One of the most moving renditions I’ve ever heard. There was no wishing the performer was special—he just was.

Then, in true creep fashion, we ended up at a café I had always eyed on my walks to school. At 9pm, we ordered café con leche, fresh OJ, and a breakfast sandwich. The waiter looked at us with a mix of disapproval and marvel.

That night, morning arrived early. Invisible barriers dissolved into matching outfits. Music found dancers without a stage. And an ending harmonized with a beginning.

La Ballerine, you are my Queen of Hearts.
Para siempre.

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Wonder Woman