"That sounds amazing," she says, stroking her lower lip thoughtfully. "We could do something crazy too. Like exploring every single street in Paris by bike." She taps her chin. "Or showering under a waterfall."
Oh yes! I pull her closer. "And we'll fly to Japan. There, we'll have a picnic in one of those incredible parks where every blade of grass is carefully manicured."
I can see her inner excitement in her expression. "Sounds wonderful." Her cheeks turn rosy. "And one day, we should have cocktails at the North Pole."
"Absolutely." Maybe we can even dance on the ice. It could be a start of something Aurora still doesn't believe she can do. "When we have children, we'll just take them with us."
"Definitely." A delightfully mischievous grin spreads across her face. "And on our flight there, we'll try everything to catch a glimpse of the cockpit."
This is getting more exciting by the minute!
I look at the many empty drawers and can already envision them filling up one by one. "One day, we'll pose with torches at the foot of the Statue of Liberty." And we'll feel as free as ever.
Her eyes light up. "Oh yes! We'll conquer New York. Maybe even this year?" When she looks at me like that, nothing else matters.
Longingly, I kiss her. "Maybe in June. What else?"
Aurora's intense gaze meets mine.
We've come so far now, and I'm sure I can take the next step. "And someday, we'll dance the mambo in the heart of Paris," I say tenderly. "In front of the whole world."
A wistful expression spreads across her face. She swallows hard, unable to say anything, and that's okay.
"Barefoot in a summer rain. At a concert by Joshua Friedberg," I add.
That's exactly how it will be. Maybe not this year, but the day will come, I'm sure of it.
I kiss her even more passionately than before. In this kiss, there's all my love, hopes, and dreams for our future.
The tournaments, the shows, and the potential TV appearances are great. It's amazing that my job as a dance trainer pays the bills.
But besides having a family together, there's only one thing I want most: to dance with Aurora again. Just the two of us. For us. Because only then will I know for sure that our wounds have healed completely.
Aurora blinks rapidly and strokes the memory box. "That's our future."
"We'll have a fantastic life. With beautiful memories and amazing children." Nothing can stop us.
In fact, she smiles mischievously at me now. "Yes, it could be wonderful," she says playfully.
As much as I would love to lose myself in that idea, there's one more thing I need to ask her.
Tomorrow, Alice and I will dance in Lyon at the selection competition for the gala night of France 2 in Lyon. I simply have to have Aurora with me, or everything will lose its meaning. After all, I'm pursuing my dance career for our shared future.
Tenderly, I take her face in my hands and caress her cheeks with my thumbs. "If you're in the audience tomorrow, it would be my January highlight."
For a split second, she gasps for breath. "Of course, I'll come." Her voice is hoarse, and she forces a smile.
"What's wrong?" I ask her immediately because I can see that something bothers her. There's no need to pretend anymore; we've long moved past that.
She swallows heavily and waves it off.
No. We need to discuss this, or it will be as much of a barrier between us as the miscarriage was. "Are you afraid you'll suddenly miss dancing?"
"Mm-hmm," she replies, lips pressed together, and lowers her eyelids. There's a suspicious glimmer in the corners of her eyes. "And at the same time, knowing that I can't do it..."
I quickly pull her into my arms. "If it gets too hard, you can just leave. I understand," I say empathetically, and I really do.
Four years ago, I was sidelined for three whole months due to a herniated disc. I couldn't even watch training sessions because it made me so angry not to be able to participate. That's probably how she feels right now.
"If you'd rather..."
"That's how we'll do it," she breathes, relieved, against my ear.
"Great, I got two tickets for you. Maybe Sky wants to come along?" It's only now that I realize I've been holding my breath for too long. I release all the pent-up air from my lungs.
She nods. "I'll ask her right away," she replies, retrieving her phone from the kitchen table.
With a warm feeling in my chest, I watch her typing a message.
Even if she leaves the ballroom early, she'll be there, and that's all that matters. After all, I'll be dancing there solely for her.
