Some pursuits, once abandoned, proved impossible to reclaim.
Rebecca lost count of her tumbles, unable to recapture her former spins and leaps. Another fall brought excruciating pain; she collapsed, sweat and tears mingling on her face.
She surrendered, knowing it was futile. The doctors had declared dancing impossible five years ago.
Now her body was as rigid as bamboo, making revival a distant dream.
Sensing a presence outside, she looked up. Josette stood beyond the glass with a man who seemed to be Desmond.
How had they connected? And had he witnessed her pathetic display?
Panic surged, and the mocking laughter of Vance’s friends echoed in her mind.
“She used to dance, but now she’s crippled. What’s the difference from being useless?”
“What can she do for you? Can’t socialize; might spill tea at home? Vance, water… Like that, right?”
“Vance, water. Ah, I fell. Hold me.”
Terrified, she scrambled to the window, yanking curtains shut in desperation. Huddled behind them, she clamped a hand over her mouth, stifling sobs. 1
“Becky?” Josette called from the door.
“No! Grandma! Don’t come in, please!” She strained to steady her voice, concealing the tremor.
Tears cascaded regardless. She couldn’t bear Josette seeing her vulnerability, nor an outsider witnessing her degradation.
But the door creaked open anyway. Sunlight silhouetted the intruder, stretching their shadow long across the floor.
Sitting crumpled, Rebecca shook her head through tears. “Don’t come closer! You need to leave–just go!”
Desmond ignored her warning, striding forward. Placing his phone on the floor, he extended a hand.
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