My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 498

Chapter 498

I sniffled, “What?”

A small smile appeared on her face, “Never seeing you dance again.”

I shook my head immediately, “Mom-”

“I’m serious.”

“No.”

“Gianna.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” My voice cracked. “Because I can’t stand up there pretending everything is normal.”

Mom’s expression softened, “I’m not asking you to pretend.”

“Then why?”

“Because watching you dance has always been one of my favorite things in this world,” Mom said softly. “When you were little, I used to sit in that ballet studio for hours just to watch you. Then, when you were sixteen, I signed you up again because I knew how much you loved it. Since then, seeing you on that stage, doing what you love, has become one of my favorite things in life.”

Tears rolled down my cheeks.

“When you dance,” Mom whispered, “you look happy.”

I shook my head, “I’m not happy right now.”

“You don’t have to be,” she added, “I just want to see my daughter doing something she loves.”

My chest hurt, “Please.”

Jules suddenly looked up, “You should dance. Mommy always cries when you dance.”

Mom laughed through her tears, “I do not.”

“You do,” Jules insisted, “Happy crying.”

Mom smiled at me, “I’ve never been prouder than watching you on that stage.”

I pressed my lips together, “I don’t know if I can do it.”

“You can,” Claire said immediately.

“We’ll help you,” Madeleine added.

“I’ll make sure Hazel has everything she needs while you’re at rehearsals or performances,” Madeleine promised.

Mom squeezed my hand tighter, “One more performance,” she whispered. “Please. I can’t leave this world without seeing you dance one last time. Let me go knowing I watched my daughter do the thing she loves most.”

I stared at our joined hands, “One performance?” I whispered.

Mom’s entire face lit up, “One last performance.”

“And after that, I’m still taking care of you.”

Mom kissed the top of my head, “You can help take care of me.”

The soft sound of rain tapping against the windows filled Mom’s bedroom.

I sat cross-legged near the foot of her bed, sorting through the collection of old photo albums she’d insisted on pulling out earlier that afternoon.

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