For years, I poured everything into this dream—every grueling practice session, every drop of sweat and blood. My feet bled from endless rehearsals, my wounds reopening time and again. Each pair of dance shoes I wore bore the stains of my sacrifices.
And now, with all that effort behind me, they expected me to simply step aside.
Zayn took another step toward me, a golf club gripped tightly in his hand. My heart pounded as the suffocating memories came rushing back—the heat of that car, the wilderness where he had abandoned me, my desperate cries for help that echoed into emptiness.
I clenched my fists, the pain of those moments mixing with my fury. My voice trembled as I finally spoke, my words laced with anguish.
“Zayn, you promised to love and protect me for the rest of our lives. How could you be so cruel? Dancing is my dream—my everything! Would you really break my wings for Melinda?”. Desperate and humiliated, I tore free from the bodyguard’s grasp and fell to my knees before him.
“Please, Zayn,” I begged, tears streaming down my face. “Let me compete. Just this once.”
For a fleeting moment, his expression softened. His hand reached out, resting gently on my head and hope flickered in my chest. Maybe—just maybe—he would let me have this one chance.
But then his phone buzzed, the shrill ringtone cutting through the silence. He answered the video call and Melinda’s tear-streaked face appeared on the screen. She stood on the rooftop of an eighteen-story building, her eyes swollen and red.
“Zayn,” she said, her voice trembling, “being the chief dancer has always been my dream. But as long as Xandra is here, I’ll always be second best…”
She wiped her tears, her voice trembling as she spoke, “I’m sorry, Zayn. It’s my fault—I’m not skilled enough and I’ve let you down.”
Before my eyes, she placed one foot on the railing, teetering on the edge. Zayn’s voice shifted from indifference to panic.
“Melinda! Don’t do anything stupid!” he shouted, his tone filled with desperation.
“Don’t worry,” he continued, trying to calm her. “I’ll fix everything. I’ll handle it all for you.”
Then, with deliberate cruelty, he turned his phone’s camera toward me. Two bodyguards pinned me down, their grip unrelenting. I thrashed in vain, my voice breaking as I cried out in terror. Zayn strode toward me, each step heavier than the last.