Yvonne screams in joy, leaping into my arms, tears streaming down her face. I spin her, laughter mingling with disbelief as applause crashes around us. Grace cheers loudly, tears streaking her face, and Greyson beams like a proud father, but it’s Vaeda who draws my eye again, her gaze fixed on me, her lips parted slightly. Tears glisten along her lashes, pride and relief radiating from her in palpable waves.
This victory is ours. Ours as dancers, as survivors, as people pulled together by something greater than any of us.
The official approaches with medals gleaming, and my hands tremble as I bow my head, feeling the cool weight of gold drape around my neck. Yvonne receives hers, her joy infectious as photographers flash their cameras, capturing every euphoric moment.
I turn to Vaeda, heart hammering, and she moves toward me, stepping deliberately despite her pain. Her hands cup my cheeks, and she whispers softly, “I always believed in you.”
My arms wrap around her once more, holding her close, drowning in the victory, in the moment, in the certainty that this feeling—this redemption, this joy—is everything I’ve fought for.
Everything I risked losing. Everything I refuse to let go of ever again.
The grand ballroom sparkles with an elegance reserved for winners, sunlight streaming through massive windows, gilded frames glistening, and chandeliers scattering fragments of light across the marble floor. Every moment feels surreal, wrapped in the undeniable sweetness of triumph. Laughter and voices hum warmly around me, punctuated by the rhythmic flash of cameras capturing memories that will last forever.
Grace squeezes my hand, her eyes shimmering with tears of pride as we step in front of the photographer. She leans into me,her arm comfortably wrapped around my waist, and for the first time in over a year, my heart feels whole.
“Smile!” the photographer calls, the bright flash illuminating the pure joy etched on our faces.
“I’m so proud of you,” Grace murmurs, turning to hug me tightly once more. Her embrace holds forgiveness, understanding, and the hope of a healed bond.
Pulling out my phone, my fingers tremble slightly as I tap on my parents’ contact. Within seconds, their smiling faces fill the screen, and my mother’s tearful laughter brings warmth to my chest.
“You were incredible, Mateo!” she exclaims, her voice choked with emotion. My father, usually stoic and composed, grins widely, his eyes glistening suspiciously. “Greyson sent us all the videos.”
“We’re proud of you,” my father says, clearing his throat, his voice roughened by unspoken emotion. “You did it.”
My chest tightens at his words, feeling the weight of their forgiveness, their pride. “Thank you for believing in me again. I wouldn’t have made it here without you.”
“Of course you would,” my father insists gently. “We just needed to learn how to believe again.”
My mother touches the screen as if reaching for me. “Enjoy your day, Mateo. You deserve this moment.”
“I love you both,” I say softly, the truth of it profound and powerful. They smile warmly, sending kisses through the phone before ending the call, leaving me filled with deep contentment.
Turning, I find Greyson and Vaeda standing nearby, quietly sharing their own proud smiles. Stepping toward them, gratitude floods me. They are the reason I am here today. Their guidance, their patience, and their willingness to take a risk on me changed everything.
“Greyson,” I start, emotion catching briefly in my throat. He meets my gaze, eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine warmth. “I can’t thank you enough for believing in me. For fighting to give me a place when I had nowhere else to turn.”
Greyson doesn’t hesitate, stepping forward and pulling me into a firm, supportive hug. “You’ve earned every bit of this success, Mateo. Never doubt that.”
When he steps back, Vaeda remains, eyes soft with unspoken emotion. Her posture is perfect and poised, but I can sense the vulnerability beneath her careful composure. My heart races as I step closer, our gazes locking.
“Vaeda,” I rasp, my voice thick with sincerity. “None of this would have been possible without you. You didn’t just teach me how to dance again, you reminded me how to live.”
She inhales sharply, her cheeks coloring gently, eyes glistening as my words settle between us. Before she can respond, before propriety and rules can intervene, I lean down and press a gentle kiss to her cheek.
Her skin is warm beneath my lips, her breath hitching softly. When I pull away, her eyes are wide, vulnerable, and filled with a beautiful complexity I ache to unravel.
“Thank you,” I whisper, holding her gaze a beat longer before stepping back.
The moment hangs delicately between us, filled with meaning and promise, before voices around us interrupt, drawing us back into the joyful chaos of celebration.
TWENTY-NINE
Vaeda
The fading Parisian sun casts a soft glow through my hotel window. Outside, the city hums quietly, alive with the possibilities of twilight. Yet, within these walls, an unsettling quiet surrounds me, each heartbeat echoing with uncertainty.
I stand in front of the ornate full-length mirror, adjusting my dress, my fingers trembling slightly. The vibrant red fabric hugs my curves, reminding me of days when confidence wasn’t something I had to feign. Today feels different, potent with both promise and regret. Beneath the dress, delicate lace whispers secrets only I know, the scarlet lingerie like a private declaration. A pledge to myself, a decision made.
