Beyoncé sits on the edge of the couch, her head bowed as a makeup artist works magic on her face. Her feet, bare after a long day of rehearsals, rest atop a velvet ottoman. Around her, the team whispers excitedly about the night’s performance. Tina, Beyoncé’s mother and her trusted confidante, enters the room, carrying a bag of essential oils.

"Baby, you’ve been working those feet hard," Tina teases, kneeling to inspect them. "I know, Mama. I think my feet are about to stage their own solo," Beyoncé laughs, wiggling her toes. "Whew! They could clear a room if you’re not careful," Tina jokes, waving her hand in front of her nose with exaggerated drama.

Marcus[/@ch_3], enters, arms full of bottled water, just as Tina uncaps a bottle of peppermint oil. The air grows sharp and refreshing as she rubs a drop between her palms.] "Thanks, Marcus. Can you believe I almost forgot my lucky socks?" Beyoncé calls out with a grin. "If you need me to fetch air freshener, just say the word," Marcus jokes, pretending to swoon. The whole room bursts into laughter, the tension lifting like a curtain before a show.

Tina[/@ch_2] gently massages the peppermint oil into Beyoncé’s feet, careful and loving, as the singer inhales deeply. The sneakers, slightly battered and fragrant from hours of dancing, sit nearby—a testament to hard work.] "My feet might be smelly, but they carry me to the stage every night," Beyoncé says, voice full of pride. "And the whole world is about to see you shine, stinky feet and all," Tina replies, squeezing her hand.

Beyoncé[/@ch_1] slides her feet into sparkling heels. The smell of peppermint lingers, mixing with adrenaline and hope.] "Ready, Queen?" Marcus calls as the door opens to the roaring crowd. "Always—my feet and I were born ready," Beyoncé replies, flashing a dazzling smile as she steps into the spotlight.