She never asked questions—just helped me stand and made tea neither of us drank.
The second time was worse—I got as far as picking up a knife. The weight of it in my hand sent me straight into a full panic attack where I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only see Joana’s face when I’d identified her body at the morgue.
After that, I stopped trying.
Lily had been in the car when it happened. Strapped in her booster seat behind Joana. The drunk driver had hit them on the passenger side. Joana died instantly. Lily walked away with cuts from the glass and bruises from the impact, but she suffered her own trauma with the ballet clothes Joana had bought her.
The pink shoes with ribbons, the practice leotards hanging in her closet. Every time Lily saw them, she’d start crying—silent tears that broke something in me each time. She’d stand in her doorway and stare at those clothes and just weep.
So I got rid of them, burned them in the building’s incinerator at two in the morning when no one would see. I withdrew Lily from the studio and removed every reminder that dancing had ever existed in our lives.
The crying stopped, but the silence began.
Lily was safe though, and that was what mattered. She was alive and whole and nothing would take her from me the way Joana had been taken.
Sarah didn’t understand that. She saw a girl who missed dancing. I saw a daughter who associated ballet with death.
The office door opened, and I didn’t look up. “What is it?”
“Your car will be ready in twenty minutes.” Gianna’s voice carried that careful neutrality she used when she thought I was in a bad mood. “Your flight to Boston leaves at four, and traffic should be manageable if you leave soon.”
“Fine.”
“Mrs. Pearson packed your overnight bag, and she said you forgot your phone charger last time.”
I finally looked at her. “Is that all?”
Gianna hesitated in the doorway with the same expression her mother got sometimes, like she wanted to say something but knew better. “Ms. Tinsley’s session with Lily just finished, so they’re in the living room.”
“I’m aware.”
“Right, of course.” She backed toward the door. “I’ll let you know when the car arrives.”
She left before I could dismiss her properly.
I stood and straightened my jacket while the monitor still showed Sarah and Lily, though the angle had changed. They must have moved. I switched off the feed and headed downstairs.
The living room was empty except for Lily, who sat on the couch with headphones covering her ears and her eyes closed. Her fingers tapped against her knee in rhythm with whatever she was hearing, the movement unconscious and natural.
Sarah’s idea—suggested weeks ago before our fight. She’d said music might help Lily express herself when words felt impossible, so I’d authorized the purchase of noise canceling headphones and a tablet loaded with instrumental playlists.
Lily uses them constantly now.
I approached the couch, and Lily’s eyes opened when my shadow fell across her. She pulled one headphone off her ear and looked at me with those dark eyes that matched mine exactly.
“I’m leaving for Boston,” I said. “I’ll be back tomorrow evening.”
She nodded once, her face giving nothing away.
“Mrs. Pearson is here if you need anything, and Gianna too.”
Another nod.
“Is there anything you want before I go?”
Lily’s gaze drifted past me toward the windows, and she slid the headphone back over her ear before turning her body slightly away. Not enough to be rude, just enough to make her intention clear.
Conversation over.
