Chapter 20 #2
I pushed open the heavy iron door. Inside was a corridor. At the end, another door. No sign, just a small golden ballet slipper emblem.
She saw the emblem, and her steps faltered.
I pushed the door open.
Inside was a spacious rehearsal studio. One entire wall of mirrors, barres, wooden floors, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a small garden. Sunlight streamed through, filling the room with brightness.
And in the center stood a figure.
An elderly but still elegant woman. She wore simple black practice clothes, her hair gray-white, but her back perfectly straight, her presence so noble you couldn't look away. Sunlight caught her profile like an ancient medal.
Luna stood frozen in the doorway.
"Ms. Petrova?" Her voice trembled, barely audible.
The older woman turned, looked at her, and smiled warmly.
"Hello, Luna. I watched your Giselle. Very moving."
Luna's mouth hung open, speechless. She looked at Sonia, then at me, disbelief flooding her eyes. Her eyes reddened.
Sonia stepped forward and embraced her gently.
"I watched your video several times." She released Luna. "Your technique is strong, but I admire your emotion more. That pure yet desperate love of Giselle—you captured it precisely. That flows from the heart, not learned from technique."
I stepped back, found a spot against the wall, and let them talk.
They talked for ages. Technique to emotion, Swan Lake to Giselle, dance to life. Sonia spoke about her years at Paris Opera Ballet, the loneliness behind applause, and finding your true self onstage. Luna listened intently, eyes bright throughout.
When they reached Swan Lake, Sonia asked Luna to demonstrate briefly. Then showed her some movements herself.
Despite her age, when she moved, that dancer's presence returned as if time had stopped for her.
I leaned against the wall by the door, watching quietly. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting golden light on Luna. Her eyes shone like stars. That light was genuine, deep joy radiating from within.
I'd never seen Luna like this.
Her usual elegance was restrained, with a coldness that kept people distant. But now, standing before Sonia, that radiance emanating from within—I barely dared breathe. Dreams burning, her true self belonging to no one else.
I leaned against the cold wall, stomach churning. How many moments like this had I missed? How stupid was I to think she was just an ornament that needed me?
Two hours passed quickly. Sonia checked her watch and said she had to go.
Before leaving, she embraced Luna again.
"You have talent and dedication." Her eyes full of approval. "But remember, dance isn't for others—it's for yourself. When you shine onstage, don't think about audiences or those meaningless reviews. Think only of yourself. And—"
She glanced at me, her gaze holding an elder's affection and scrutiny.
Luna froze, her face slightly flushed.
After seeing Sonia off, Luna was silent in the car for a while.
At a red light, she turned to me, eyes still red-rimmed but mouth curved.
"How... how did you get her to come? She's been retired forever, never takes private meetings."
"Took some effort," I said. "But worth it."
She looked at me, her expression complex.
"Thank you."
"It's what I should do."
By evening, I brought her to a private upscale restaurant near Capitol Hill. I'd reserved the entire rooftop terrace. From here you could see the entire city's lights.
The server saw us and immediately approached.
"Mr. King, this way please."
He led us to a window seat. The table was already set, with a bottle of chilled champagne. A small card beside it listed tonight's menu.
Appetizer: crab salad with lemon and caviar. Main: slow-roasted wagyu with truffle sauce and asparagus. Dessert: crème br?lée with a thin caramelized crust, garnished with fresh berries. Every dish her favorite.
Luna sat across from me, her cheeks still faintly flushed from earlier excitement, that glow of being validated by her idol not yet faded.
"Cassian, thank you. Today... was the best gift I've ever received in my life." Luna smiled softly.
I looked into her eyes, took a deep breath, and spoke.
"Luna, you're the best gift I've ever received. I just understood too late."
"I always thought owning you completely, keeping you in my sight, was love. Watching you dance for Sonia today, I realized how wrong I've been."
I smiled bitterly, eyes full of self-mockery. "But now I finally understand—you belong to yourself, to the stage. I don't want to be your cage anymore. I just want to be the harbor you can dock at when you're tired."
Luna watched me silently, those beautiful eyes swirling with complex emotions.
Just then, the windows suddenly lit up.
We turned—above the terrace, a firework exploded, golden light raining down, illuminating the entire terrace and her face.
Then another, and another.
Red, blue, purple, blooming across the night sky like someone had plucked stars and set them alight. Light and shadow flowed through the windows, across the table, flickering in her eyes.
She watched the fireworks, eyes sparkling.
I watched her eyes.
"This is..."
"Making up for it," I said. "Your birthday six years ago. I'd planned to do this for you."
She turned to me, tears finally falling.
"Cassian..."
I reached out and gently wiped the tears from her face.
"I'm sorry," I said. "For everything—for all the moments I didn't understand, for those disappointing days and all those awful things I said."
She didn't speak, just looked at me.
"I know apologies don't fix it." I continued. "The damage is done. But I want you to know, if I could go back, I'd make different choices. I'd trust you, stand by you, walk through those hard times with you—and I will in the future."
Fireworks kept blooming, one after another. Light and shadow played across our faces.
"Luna," I said her name softly. "I don't know if I can become perfect. But I know I want to become a better partner for you."
She looked at me, tears in her eyes, light too, but also something complex I couldn't read.
Then she reached out and took my hand.
Her hand was cool but gripped tight.
In that moment, no firework outside could match the warmth of her palm.