Page 144

As I twirled, I glimpsed Henry in the front row. Henry’s face was a mirror of wonder. He would remember this night—the night his sister finally danced.
As my feet touched down, applause erupted—a thunderstorm of approval. I curtsied, tears blurring my vision. I had danced for love, for loss, for the girl I used to be.
But most of all, I had danced for the man who believed in me—the one who sat in the dimly lit theater, clapping until his palms stung.
Backstage, Sean enveloped me in a hug. “You were incredible, Chloe.”
I buried my face in his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his cologne. “Thank you,” I whispered. “For being here.”
He kissed my temple. “Always.”
And in that moment, I knew I had not only reclaimed the stage, but also found my anchor—the one who would applaud my encore, no matter how many years it took.
“I’ll dance for you again and again,” I said.