Chapter 70 Adrian
ADRIAN
(Two years later)
Sonya glows as I swing her in my arms.
The curtain has just come down, the air still humming with applause.
The stage is a riot of roses and lilies, bouquets piled in messy, colorful heaps.
Gold confetti drifts down from the rafters, sticking to the sweat on her skin.
The stage lights have cooled to a softer glow, catching the shimmer of her costume, and the shimmer of her skin.
And for a second, I just hold her there, suspended between all the noise and all the quiet.
God, I couldn’t be fucking prouder!
Everything that Sonya has been through—overcoming her yips, working through exhaustion and helping create the most challenging and unique choreography—has led to this. Her closing night as principal dancer. The last show in this production.
I put her down carefully, her pointe shoes scraping the worn stage floor. She’s still trembling from the adrenaline.
Around us, the rest of the company surges in. Other dancers, the choreographer, crew members, people joyously singing her praises.
I step back, so all the focus is on her. She deserves every second. Every bouquet, every compliment, every tear shed in awe. My chest flows with so much love. I could seriously watch her be surrounded by all this support all day.
Through all the noise and movement, her gaze finds mine. She gives me that quick grin. It’s quiet, private, meant only for me.
It still wrecks my heart in the best way.
Later, when the theater’s quiet and the world’s dimmed down to us, we’re in my car. The night hums soft and low outside, city lights sliding across her face.
“I can’t believe that was the last show,” Sonya says, sinking deeper into the seat, her voice a blend of happiness, satisfaction, and fatigue.
My backseat is full to the brim with bouquets. I’d gathered every last one that had her name on it, ignoring the stagehands who laughed when they saw me hauling armfuls offstage like a lovesick fool.
“You were incredible tonight, baby. You’ve always been good, but what you did today? It took my breath away, Sonya.”
She turns her head toward me, eyes soft. “I’m proud of you, too.” Her knee brushes mine. “So. How’s it feeling? First game coming up, not being captain anymore?”
I exhale slowly, the question settling deep. “Good, actually. Better than I thought.”
She tilts her head, waiting, listening the way only she does.
“I’m such a big part of the team,” I say finally. “Still loud in the locker room, still there for the rookies. But it’s…” I pause, searching for the words. “It’s rewarding, letting go and watching someone else step up.”
Her shoulder leans lightly into mine, murmuring again how proud of me she is. I tell her that I couldn’t have done it without her.
Sonya has taught me how to take care of myself in ways I never even realized I needed. She’s made me more balanced. More whole.
I grip the wheel tighter, trying to ground myself amidst the happiness. My pulse has been picking up the closer we get. Every red light feels like a countdown. My palms are sweating, and for once, I don’t have the words to fill the space between us.
I think Sonya notices. She’s looking at me curiously but hasn’t said anything yet. Collecting data and mulling over what’s happening because I know she sees past every one of my smiles easily when they’re hiding something else.
Thankfully, it doesn’t take long to get to where we’re going. She knows exactly where we’re going the moment we pull up to the building.
“The studio?”
“Yeah.” I try to sound casual, but my voice comes out a little too tight. “Wanted to show you how it’s coming along.”
She raises an eyebrow. “It’s late.”
I shrug, because if I open my mouth, I’ll blow the surprise. “You said you wanted to see the progress.”
“I did.” She bites back a smile, tired but radiant. “So…I’m glad we’re here.”
She doesn’t see the lights yet. I planned it that way. Just a few soft bulbs along the walkway, building slowly into a cascade of this bright, warm glow as we step inside.
The moment she walks through the door, she stops dead.
The whole skeleton of the studio is alive with light.
She looks around slowly, stunned. “You did all this?”
I shove my hands into my pockets to hide the shaking. “Wanted you to see the bones. The potential. You’ve been too busy dancing to stand still in it.”
It’s been six months of planning that’s led to this, and it’s Sonya’s dedication that’s made it possible. She’s been the spokesperson, sharing her vision with donors who have the same beliefs as her.
So many of the Wings are on board, with me leading the charge. But we’re not the only ones.
That moment from the gala when Sonya ripped the check apart went viral. It’s attracted the right people to this project, and now it’s finally coming together.
Sonya steps forward, taking it all in. The spot where the mirrors will be hung, the practice floors will be laid in, the offices for therapy and training, the stage where productions can be put on for the community.
A home for dancers like she once was. Kids of color, kids from low-income or vulnerable family situations, foster kids who’ve been overlooked.
A place where ballet isn’t behind glass.
Where it’s reachable. Real. Accessible. Always supportive.
“You know,” I start, my voice rough, “I used to call you Mrs. Hughes just to get a rise out of you.”
She whips around.
“Definitely that.” I pause, the words catching. “But I think…part of me always wanted it to be true.”
I pull the box from my pocket and drop to one knee on the dust-covered floor.
“These last two years with you have been the best of my life,” I say quietly.
“You, wearing my jersey and cheering for me during my games. Me in the back row of your rehearsals, holding my breath every time you did something that looked like it could break you. You and Quinn side-eyeing me for all the delicious combinations of food I’ve been experimenting with that end up tasting amazing.
Kavi convincing me to take ballet class with you once, and Lokhov laughing because I pulled a muscle that I didn’t even know I had.
You, falling asleep with Diana curled on your stomach, and me realizing I was completely gone for both of you. ”
I hold the ring up.
“I don’t just want you, baby,” I say, my voice thick.
“I need you. Your fire. Your silence. Your frowns. Your glares. I love everything about you, Sonya. I can’t and won’t ever be able to spend enough of this lifetime with you.
I don’t even want to try. I want you for every version of what’s next. Will you marry me?”
She goes down to her knees. Only for a second, because I’m scooping her up, so she doesn’t touch the unfinished floor.
There are tears streaming down her face as she nods. “Yeah, baby.”
My vision goes fuzzy. Then I’m going up to my feet and lifting her, spinning her in the middle of the space that represents a future that she’s making come true.
When I finally set her down, her forehead rests against mine.
“So,” she whispers, sighing as a smile tugs at her lips. “I guess it is legally binding now, huh?”
My face breaks into a grin I couldn’t stop if I tried.
“Mrs. Hughes, finally for real.”
A Note from Sookh
Thank you for reading Facing Off! Your support and encouragement have made this story possible and means more to me than I can ever express.