I didn’t move. My legs felt rooted to the spot, my chest tight.
“Get on the floor,” she said firmly, but there was a quiet warmth beneath her command. “Start with what you know. The rest will come back.”
I hesitated, but then, slowly, I stepped forward. The mirrors reflected a version of myself I barely recognized—tired, broken, but still standing.
I placed my hand on the barre, the cool wood grounding me as I lifted my leg into a slow, shaky arabesque. The movement was stiff, awkward, but it was something.
My mother watched from the corner, her arms crossed. She didn’t say anything more, but she didn’t need to.
The silence of the studio, the rhythm of my movements, and the weight of her presence began to chip away at the heaviness in my chest. And for the first time in days, I felt like I could breathe again.
This wasn’t about Wyn. This was about me. And I’d die before I let a broken heart cost me my career.
A week later Back in New York
I wanted to make things right. I was back in New York and I was ready to face the consequences of my actions head on and stop running from my problems once and for all. I was aware that it wouldn’t be easy but I also wasn’t aware just how difficult it was going to be to be forgiven.
The streets of New York were alive with their usual chaos; honking cars, hurried footsteps, the distant hum of subway trains.
I clutched the strap of my bag tighter as I made my way up the steps to Wynter’s apartment building. The cold air bit at my face, but I didn’t care. My heart was racing, my palms sweatingdespite the chill. I didn’t know if he’d listen, if he’d even let me in, but I had to try. I had to fix this.
I buzzed the intercom, my breath visible in the freezing air. My heart pounded as I waited for the response, half-hoping it would be him. Instead, a familiar voice crackled through the speaker.
“It’s Bae. What do you want?”
I swallowed hard, my voice trembling as I answered. “I need to see Wyn. Please. It’s important.”
There was a pause, the kind that stretched too long and made my chest tighten. Then the door clicked open, and I stepped inside, the sound of my boots echoing on the tiled floor as I climbed the stairs to his apartment.
When I reached the door, it wasn’t Wynter who greeted me. It was Bae, her sharp eyes narrowing the moment she saw me. Beck stood a few steps behind her, leaning casually against the wall, his expression unreadable.
“What are you doing here?” Bae asked, crossing her arms over her chest. Her voice wasn’t angry, but it was firm, a clear warning in her tone.
“I need to talk to Wyn,” I said, forcing myself to meet her gaze. “Please. I just want to apologize.”
Bae snorted, shaking her head. “Apologize? Let me humor you for a second, how exactly is that gonna go? Hey, I’m so sorry that I got nosy and did exactly what I promised not to do and betrayed your trust. Will you please take me back and forget all about it, and have things be rainbows and unicorns again?”
My stomach dropped, and the guilt hit me like a tidal wave. “I…I know what I did was wrong,” I said, my voice cracking. “I just—”
“You just what?” Bae interrupted, her eyes narrowing further. “Thought you’d break into his private thoughts because you couldn’t be bothered to ask him how he felt like a normal person?”
I flinched at her words, shame curling in my chest. “I made a mistake,” I whispered. “I know that.”
Bae leaned closer, her voice lowering to a sharp whisper. “If you’re going to do crazy stuff like that, Yesoh, at least don’t get caught. But you did.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Beck stepped forward, her hand resting on Bae’s shoulder. “That’s enough,” she said gently, but there was a seriousness in her tone that silenced her.
Bae stepped back, her arms still crossed, her eyes still sharp.
Beck looked at me then, her expression softer but no less resolute. “This isn’t a good time, Yesoh,” she said. “He’s not ready to see you.”
I shook my head, the desperation rising in my throat. “Please, Beck. I just need a minute. I need to tell him I’m sorry.”
She hesitated, glancing toward the closed door behind her, before turning back to me. “He left specific instructions,” Beck said quietly, her voice careful. “He doesn’t want to see you. Not now.”
The words felt like a punch to the chest, knocking the air out of me. I stared at Beck, my throat tight, my hands trembling at my sides.
“Please,” I whispered again, my voice barely audible.
