Chapter 8
Sarah
The penthouse felt different without Hector’s presence—like someone had opened all the windows and let air back into the place. I could breathe easier knowing those dark eyes weren’t tracking my every move.
My days blurred together. Mornings meant scouring job sites for anything that paid more than minimum wage and didn’t require certifications I didn’t have yet.
The options were depressing at best, insulting at worst. Most afternoons I spent with Lily, and evenings disappeared into conversations that drained whatever energy I had left.
Colin called on Wednesday while I was heating up instant ramen for the third night in a row.
“So I was thinking,” Colin said when I answered, “Spring break is coming up in two weeks. I could fly back for a bit, spend some time in the city. We haven’t seen each other in months.”
My stomach dropped. “That’s a terrible idea.”
“Wow, thanks. Love you too.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” I stirred my instant ramen harder, scrambling for a convincing excuse. “It’s just, flights are expensive right now. You should save that money.”
“I’ve been picking up extra hours at the library. I can afford it.”
“But you shouldn’t have to spend it on flights. What about that summer program you wanted to apply for? The one in Edinburgh?”
“That’s not until August, and I have plenty of time to save for it.” His voice carried confusion now, maybe a little hurt. “Sarah, I want to come home. I miss you. Is that such a bad thing?”
“Of course not.” Guilt twisted in my chest. “I just think you should use your break to travel around Europe or something. When are you going to get another chance to see Paris or Amsterdam? You’re already over there.”
“I can see Paris anytime. I want to see my sister.” He paused. “Unless you don’t want me there? Are you mad at me about something?”
“No! God, no. I’m not mad.” I set down my fork and pressed a hand to my forehead. “I just think it’s impractical. The flight alone is like six hundred dollars.”
“I don’t care about practical. I care about seeing you.” His voice got quieter. “You’ve been weird lately. Calling all the time but not really saying anything. And now you’re trying to convince me not to visit? What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on. I’m fine, and you should stay in London and enjoy your break. Don’t waste time coming back here.”
“Waste time?” Now he sounded hurt for real. “Is that what you think spending time with me is? A waste?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?” He went quiet for a moment, then his voice changed, “Sarah, are those men still bothering you? The ones from before? You told me the debt was cleared, that they were gone. Were you lying?”
My heart stopped. “No. No, they’re gone. I told you, remember? That final payment cleared everything. They haven’t contacted me since.”
The lie came out smooth because I’d practiced it so many times in my head—prepared for this exact question.
“You’re sure? Because if they’re still around, I’m coming back whether you want me to or not.”
“I’m sure. They’re completely out of my life.” I forced conviction into my voice. “The debt’s done, Colin. Over. Finished. You don’t need to worry about that anymore.”
“Then why don’t you want me to visit?”
“I don’t want you wasting money,” I said finally, trying to sound reasonable instead of desperate. “You’re in London, Colin. Most people would kill for that opportunity. Don’t spend your break flying back to New York just to sit in my depressing apartment.”
“Your apartment isn’t depressing, and I don’t care about experiences. I care about you.” His voice got that stubborn edge it always got when he’d made up his mind about something. “Something’s wrong, Sarah. I can tell. And whatever it is, I want to help.”
“There’s nothing wrong.” The lie burned coming out. “I’m just busy with work and trying to save money. Having you here would be a distraction.”
The silence on the other end stretched long enough that I thought he might have hung up.
“A distraction,” he repeated finally, his voice flat. “Right. Got it.”
“Colin, don’t be like that.”
He took a breath. “Fine. I’ll stay in London. I’ll go see the stupid highlands or whatever. Have a great rest of your night, Sarah.”
“Colin, wait—”
But he’d already hung up.
I stared at my phone, at Colin’s contact photo smiling back at me. I wanted to call him back and tell him the truth and ask him to forgive me for pushing him away.
Instead, I set the phone down and went back to my ramen, which had gone cold and congealed. I ate it anyway because I’d already paid for it, and wasting food felt like a crime when I was skipping meals to save money.
My brother hated me now, but at least he was safe in London. Away from loan sharks and threats and the mess our father had left behind.
Gianna’s call came the next evening, her usual cheerfulness replaced by worry.
“Sarah? Are you busy?”
I looked around my apartment at the stack of bills I couldn’t pay and the job applications I’d filled out. “Not really. What’s wrong?”
“It’s Lily. She’s been staring at her old ballet photos all afternoon, and she won’t eat. My mom tried making her favorites, but she just shook her head and went back to her room. I think she’s getting worse without her dad here.”
Something in my chest pulled tight. “I’m on my way.”
“You don’t have a session today.”
“I know. I’m coming anyway.”
The subway ride took forever, and I spent every minute wondering what I’d say when I got there. How do you help a child who’s drowning in grief when you’re barely keeping your own head above water?
Mrs. Pearson met me at the door with relief written all over her face. “Thank goodness. She’s in her room, and she hasn’t come out since lunch.”
I found Lily sitting on her bed holding a photo frame, and when I got closer, I saw it was a picture of her and her mother.
Both of them wore ballet outfits, Lily’s tiny pink leotard matching her mother’s elegant costume.
They were laughing at something outside the frame, caught in a moment of pure joy.
“Hey, Lily bug.” I sat on the edge of her bed. “Gianna said you’ve been having a tough day.”
She didn’t look at me, just kept staring at that photo like it held answers she couldn’t find.
“Your mom was beautiful,” I said softly. “And you look just like her in this picture. Same smile.”
Her fingers tightened on the frame.
“You know what I think? I think she’d want you to keep smiling like that. I think she’d want you to remember the happy parts, not just the sad ones.” I paused, weighing my next words carefully. “How about we do something fun? Something that might help you feel closer to those happy memories?”
Lily’s eyes finally lifted to meet mine, and the hope I saw there mixed with fear nearly broke me.
“Do you trust me?”
She nodded once, small and hesitant.
“Then let’s go on an adventure.”
Getting Lily out of the penthouse without alerting Mrs. Pearson to where we were actually going required some creative truth-telling which Gianna helped me with. I mentioned fresh air and a change of scenery, which wasn’t technically a lie. I just left out the part about the ballet studio.
This was reckless, probably crossed fifteen professional boundaries, and would definitely get me fired if Hector found out. But consequences could wait.
Delia’s dance space occupied the first floor of an old building in Brooklyn, and the place smelled like wood polish. Music drifted everywhere, something classical and beautiful that made my heart beat faster.
Delia stood in the middle of the studio wearing a wrap skirt over her leggings, her dark hair pulled into a messy bun. When she saw us, her whole face transformed into a smile that could light up a city block.
“You must be Lily.” She bent over to Lily’s level, her movements graceful even when casual. “Sarah’s told me so much about you. She says you’re one of the bravest people she knows.”
Lily’s gaze dropped to the floor, but her cheeks flushed pink.
“I have to agree with her,” Delia said, her voice warm and easy. “It takes a lot of courage to come to a place like this, especially when it might bring up big feelings. But you know what? Big feelings just mean we have big hearts, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
She stood and gestured around the studio with its wall of mirrors and its wooden barre running along one side. “This is a safe space for dancing, which means you can move however you want—or not move at all.” There’s no right or wrong here. Just music and room to be yourself.”
Lily looked up at me, and I saw the question in her eyes.
“I’ll be right here the whole time,” I promised. “Not going anywhere.”
Delia walked to the sound system and pressed a button, and soft piano music filled the space.
“How about we start with something simple?” Delia moved to the center of the room and raised her arms in a graceful arc above her head. “This is called first position. See how my arms make a circle?”
She demonstrated the movement again, slower this time, and I watched Lily watch her.
“Want to try?” Delia’s smile held no pressure, just an invitation that Lily could accept or refuse.
For a long moment, nothing happened. Lily stood frozen while the music played and the world waited.
Then her arms lifted—hesitant, shaking—forming that same circle above her head. Her form wasn’t perfect, and her arms trembled from the effort, but she was doing it. She was dancing.
“Beautiful,” Delia breathed. “Absolutely beautiful. Now let’s add a little movement. Just rise up on your toes like you’re trying to reach something high above you.”
Lily’s feet lifted, and she wobbled slightly before finding her balance. Her face showed fierce concentration, and then something changed in her expression. The fear melted away, replaced by something that looked almost like joy.