Epilogue
FLORIAN
Fifteen Years Later…
As tears fill her eyes, her grip on my hand tightens. From the private balcony of the theater that’s reserved for us, we have a bird’s-eye view of the bustling crowd below in the theater where she achieved the prestigious title of principal dancer almost seventeen years ago.
I can’t help but smile when I see the look of wonderment and amazement on her face. She’s even more beautiful than she was when I first met her in the dressing room of this very theater.
My eyes are drawn back to the stage, where our daughter gracefully moves across it, her first performance as a professional ballet dancer.
“She’s beautiful,” my wife whispers, and I couldn’t agree more.
Carina’s graceful movements on the dance floor evoke the same sense of awe that I felt when watching her mother dance on that very stage. It’s like she’s whispering words directly into your ear as she interprets the music she is dancing to.
“She looks just like you. The embodiment of grace, poise, and beauty.”
My wife’s smile has a radiant quality that can chase away any darkness, especially when she’s proud of our daughter’s accomplishments.
“She’s so much better than me, Florian. Just look at how elegantly she moves across the stage. It’s almost like she’s floating,” Arabelle says with awe in her voice.
It always amazes me when Arabelle talks about dancing because, after all this time, she still does not realize how good she actually is even as she’s aged.
When Carina, our oldest child, decided to follow in her mother’s footsteps, I supported her despite Arabelle’s initial objections.
Arabelle didn’t want her to experience the same challenges she faced during her early years of dancing.
The isolation. The mean girls of the dance world, which I was clueless about until I witnessed Arabelle having a run-in with someone after a performance.
No, I didn’t want my daughter to experience any of that part of dance, but Carina’s natural talent can’t be denied.
Just like they did with Arabelle, the papers are labeling her as a prodigy.
And she is. As soon as she saw her mother dance, her eyes lit up with excitement, and there was no stopping her.
It’s a talent that has to be fostered because it’s too amazing to let the world not see how great she is.
When the final note sounds, the crowd erupts, and we join in, jumping to our feet and clapping along with them.
“Bravo! Bravo!” We all shout and cheer as the dancers, including Carina, take their well-deserved bows.
As we hold each other, tears of joy and relief fill our eyes. Hugo’s hand lands on my shoulder. Glancing back, I’m met with the sight of prideful expressions etched on everyone’s faces.
Not only is Hugo here, but Asva, Alrick, Nero, and Didrick have joined us as well. Carina thinks of them as her uncles, and there’s no way they would miss her first performance. They all bitched about having to wear tuxedos but did it for her.
“She was amazing,” I say as the dancers leave the stage.
“She was,” Arabelle agrees. “I can’t believe the performance she just had, Florian. This is going to open so many doors for her. It was absolutely perfect. She hit every mark she was supposed to. Do you realize how hard that is for someone her age?”
The sound of panic mixed with admiration is clear in my wife’s voice.
Having been here before, she’s familiar with what lies ahead for Carina.
I’ve only experienced this life through her and for only as long as she’s been in mine.
I have no idea what dancers face other than what Arabelle has experienced, but I trust my wife.
“She’s going to be fine, Beauty.” I try to give her some type of comfort. “I won’t let anything happen to her.”
“You’ll have to increase her security.”
“It’s done.”
“The paparazzi are probably going to be camped out at the house and her school now.”
Since Arabelle’s retirement, we haven’t been bothered by the paps as much as when we first got married, but I have no problem doing whatever I need to do to keep Carina safe. She nods, relief on her face.
“Don’t worry. I’ll do whatever needs to be done, Beauty.”
A gentle tug on my tuxedo jacket interrupts my thoughts. “Daddy?”
I look down at Anders, our youngest child, who’s only four years old, and notice his wide-eyed curiosity. He bears a striking resemblance to my mother, except for his head full of dark curls, dark eyes, and brown skin.
I reach for him and pick him up. He wraps his arms around my neck, and a huge smile crosses his face. “I want to do that.”
He points to the stage, and I ruffle his hair.
He wants to do everything his sister does.
He’s even started watching both his mother and sister as they dance in the studio at home.
It’s not exactly the path I thought a son of mine would take.
However, if he wants to dance, I won’t stand in his way.
I’ll give my children everything my father didn’t allow me to have.
He has a choice of which road he decides to take when he gets older.
“You can do anything you want, Anders. Just say the word.”
His smile is so captivating that it takes my breath away.
All I can ever ask for is to see the joy lighting up his face.
I didn’t have the best childhood. My father refused to let me live the life I wanted to live.
But I refuse to be that with any of my children.
They are allowed to become anything they want to be in this life.
If I can provide it for them, then they will have it.
As our fingers interlace, Arabelle’s smile lights up her entire face. “I love you.”
I give her a playful wink. “I love you, too.”
This is only the beginning of our journey together. My mother would be happy to know that I found happily-ever-afters do exist.