Page 7

Nic

Darling, the Baltimores are coming tonight. Dinner’s at seven. Do make sure Theo gets here on time. And wear the red Vera Hen-Su dress again. I’d like to show my son’s wife-to-be off.

I stare at Lilith Aldridge’s text message for a full minute before tossing the phone onto the passenger seat beside me.

First, your son didn’t buy me the Vera Hen-Su, Lilith. It was rented. And second . . . I might have overreacted last night.

Clouded by guilt and self-loathing, I actually thought I could break free of the Aldridges. Now, in the light of day, reality hits harder. Dad’s experimental Parkinson’s meds cost more than most people’s mortgages. And Bea?

My breath leaves me in a rush just thinking about Bea.

I fought tooth and nail for my scholarship, but my dream is that she won’t have to. No student loans. No part-time jobs.

One thing I’ve done right by being the Aldridges’ perfect Cinderella is to make sure that my family got to benefit too.

And now . . . no, it’s just easier to forgive Theo and move on.

Bea was right. We’ll only kiss and make up.

My Asscher-cut diamond catches the afternoon sun again, throwing little flecks of light across the dashboard.

I move my thumb in slow circles over the band, pressing against the thin metal as if I can squeeze the thoughts out of my head.

My throat is raw, but I refuse to cry. Not here. Not in the school pickup line.

A car horn blares behind me, and I flinch, realizing the line has moved. Lifting my foot off the brake, I let the van roll forward, but my hands are still clenched tightly around the wheel.

The school comes into view—bright red brick with big windows and colorful banners lining the front lawn. North Creek Elementary.

The van shudders as I pull up to the curb and whisper a silent prayer that it doesn’t die on me again.

I’d bought the van with a combination of my savings and a loan from Barry. It’s ludicrous that I can take money from my best friend, yet I can’t let my fiancé buy me a new one.

I glance at my reflection in the rearview mirror, then at the three kids I already have in the back. Maya is practicing her arm stretches. Ron, the oldest at eleven, taps away on his phone, presumably playing a Roblox game. Hunter sleeps like he always does after his morning therapy.

“Stay put guys, you know the drill,” I say, shrugging on my hi-vis vest.

My afternoon group is already filing out of the building—Bella leading the pack, her golden curls bouncing. The compression bandages on her legs don’t slow her down anymore, not since she learned to work with them instead of fighting them.

“Miss Nic!” She shuffles toward me like I’ve been gone for years instead of one week. Behind her, Ollie is unconsciously rubbing at the graft scars on his arms.

My throat tightens. Fifteen years ago, that was me—touching my scars like they might disappear if I worried over them enough.

Bella crashes into me with her usual enthusiasm. “Can we do turns today? Doctor says I’m ready to break-dance.”

Chuckling, I help her and Ollie into the van. “We’ll see. How’s the ankle stretching going?”

“I do it every night,” she announces proudly. “Even when it hurts.”

“I guess you’re ready, then.”

As I slide into the driver’s seat, I glance in the rearview mirror again. The kids are already lost in their own little world of mutual understanding, trading stories about their latest doctors’ appointments.

The easy way they discuss skin grafts and compression garments still catches me off guard sometimes. Like they’re talking about the weather instead of the things that changed their lives forever.

It’s comforting that I can give them this. A sanctuary, a place where they don’t have to hide. And for a moment, I can almost ignore the weight of the ring on my finger.

Almost.

The city hall gym appears through gaps in the bare autumn trees—all crumbling brick and broken promises.

“Miss Nic?” Bella’s voice drops lower. “Is it true they’re still going to close our gym for the winter?”

For once, the question doesn’t fill me with dread. I think of the check Barry conjured up last night. Hopefully, my commission clears by the end of the week. Two and a half grand is more than enough for a deposit for a proper studio. Maybe even some new equipment.

“Actually,” I say, unable to keep the smile from my voice, “I might have some good news. Remember the party I told you I was invited to?”

“The fancy one with the masks?” Bella leans forward, already invested.

“Mm–hmm.” I dodge another pothole in the parking lot, and the van groans in protest. “We might be getting a brand new space soon.”

The kids erupt into excited chatter—hopes for mirrors that aren’t cracked, floors without water stains, maybe even proper barres instead of the makeshift PVCs we’ve been using.

I smile, and this time it’s real.

Gathering their bags, I herd them toward the entrance. Dark clouds threaten rain again tonight, but for once, I’m not worried about the leaking roof. The city hall might be falling apart, but we won’t be here much longer.

“Miss Nic!” Bella is already stripping off her warm-up jacket, revealing lean arms marked with the testimony of her recovery. “Watch this!”

She launches into a series of moves she’s been practicing—careful turns that work with her healing legs.

The others follow suit, quickly finding their spots on the floor while I mop up the puddles from yesterday’s rain.

Maya and Ollie pair up near the broken mirrors, comparing their arm extensions, while Ron practices the new batch of stretches I taught him.

I scroll through my playlist, selecting our warm-up music. Something in my chest loosens as I watch them move.

Bella raises her arms above her head, attempting a pirouette, and for a moment, I feel a swell of pride.

This is why I do this. This is what matters.

Not Theo’s wandering eyes and not that kiss that still burns on my lips. Just this—watching these kids reclaim their bodies, one movement at a time.

“Watch out for that wet spot!” I call out as I notice a new leak near the corner.

“I will!” Bella answers, but her eyes aren’t on me; they’re on Ron, our broody pre-teen.

“Bella, can you stay off that section—?”

It all happens so fast.

Bella twirls closer to where Ron stretches quietly, her face glowing, until her foot glides over the slick patch.

“Look out!” I cry out in horror as her ankle twists at an unnatural angle.

Her mouth opens in a silent scream, arms flailing as she crashes to the ground.

There’s a moment of stunned silence.

Then, her wail shatters the room.