But she only stroked my hair with her frail, trembling hand, “Don’t cry, my darling,” she whispered. “Grandma isn’t in pain. When I was young, I loved to dance, too. But in my time, girls like me had no chance to shine. You’re my hope, my pride. It’s my greatest joy to see you bloom on the stage.”
Her words became my strength. Every step I took was for her—for the love she poured into me, for the dream she never had the chance to chase. I endured pain, tears and heartache, but I never stopped dancing.
And now, Zayn Erickson had destroyed it all. His empty promise of “responsibility” was nothing but a cruel joke—a weak excuse to clear the path for Melinda.
I laughed bitterly through my tears, “Responsible? You call this responsibility?”
Zayn’s devotion to Melinda was absurd. The Qualls Family had been close friends of the Erickson Family for decades. Melinda and Zayn had grown up as childhood playmates.
When they were twelve, a gas leak occurred during a family trip at a rented B&B. Melinda had risked her life to pull Zayn’s mother out of the building, saving her from certain death. But the tragedy cost Melinda her own mother, who perished in the explosion.
From that day forward, the Erickson Family treated Melinda like one of their own. When her father remarried, bringing an abusive stepmother into her life, the Erickson Family took her in completely. She became their daughter in all but name and they granted her every wish.
There was even a time when the Erickson Family pressured Zayn to marry her. But he refused, saying he only saw her as a sister and that I was the only woman he loved.
Yet, time and time again, for the sake of this woman he supposedly didn’t love, he hurt me—the one he claimed to cherish. The irony was unbearable.
I had questioned their relationship before, but every time I tried to voice my concerns, it only enraged him.
“I’ve already broken Melinda’s heart for you. Why are you being so hard on her?”
I sat on the cold floor like a discarded doll, lifeless, my tears falling silently.
Zayn’s expression softened as he watched me, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. He knelt down beside me, taking my trembling hand in his.
“Xandra,” he said gently, as if his words could erase what had just happened. “Don’t worry.”