A living proof of our love.
And our downfall.
How is this supposed to work? We can't become parents. Not now!
Panic floods over me, but I mustn't show it to Aurora.
"We'll manage," I say, vowing to believe that as well.
Aurora's hand finds my head and gently strokes my temple. Her labored breath slowly calms down. "But our dream," she finally says. "Yourdream."
It can't be over. But how can we make it work?
I don't know. But one thing is clear to me: we must find a solution. Aurora needs support right now, and it's my responsibility to provide it, no matter how much the ground is shaking beneath my own feet.
Everything will be fine. Everything. Will. Be. Fine.
But how?
Silence lingers between us. I'm at a loss for words for minutes, but then an idea forms within me. "We can have both."
Certainly, it won't be easy, but we have no other choice. We'll put our dancing on hold for now, but we'll start again once it's possible. In the meantime, I'll continue working at the academy. We'll be parents, and one day, we'll dance at the World Championships.
Nervously, Aurora fiddles with my ear. "Do you really believe that?" she asks with a weak voice.
I lift my head to look at her. As much as I want to express what I'm feeling, showing her my fear won't help anyone. Least of all myself. "Only if we stop believing in our dreams can they no longer become reality."
Desperation takes hold of her face. "How are we going to manage this?"
Side by side. And with everything that comes with it. "Together, we can overcome any obstacle." We'll be fine as long as we always look forward and never look back.
Her nod is hesitant, but it's a nod. I stand, put on some music, and then extend my hand gallantly to her. "May I have this dance?" I ask, mimicking a bow.
Without taking her eyes off me, she takes my hand and rises from her chair. A warm smile flickers across her face as we start dancing the first steps of the mambo. This is exactly what I need right now. We tune out our difficulties and focus only on what is good.
The two of us.
***
Three difficult nights lie behind us. Aurora and I have tossed and turned sleeplessly in bed. Finally, we got up before sunrise today and went through all the versions of what we now face. For each scenario, we have tried to find a way. We should be able to refute every objection and every attack on us.
Yet despite our efforts, beads of sweat gather on my forehead as I walk into the academy with Aurora. I wish I could keep her pregnancy a secret, sweep it under the rug where it can fade away alongside all the other things I'd rather not see.
But that won't work.
At our doctor's appointment yesterday, we learned that Aurora is already in her seventh week of pregnancy. In less than a month, her baby bump will be impossible to hide, especially with her otherwise slender figure.
No matter how much it scares me, we have to tackle the problems arising from this situation as quickly as possible. Only then can we look forward without worry.
"Give me your hand," I ask her before we climb the stairs to Madame Durand's office.
Aurora's palms are just as sweaty as mine. "Maybe there's another way?"
She asks this question not for the first time, and I shake my head like the many times before. Not because I'm convinced, but only to ease her worries.
"We can't hide any longer," I reply firmly. We reach the landing, and the door to Madame Durand's office comes into view. I take a deep breath. "No matter what happens in there, as long as we have each other, we can handle it."
She swallows hard. "I could claim that my family in Italy needs me and ask to start again next year."
