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tic energy of San Francisco, a soothing balm to my frayed nerves. I quickly settled into my tiny dorm room, grateful for the anonymity it offered. No one here knew Jax. No o

s of my past. I spent hours in the kitchen, the warmth of the ovens, the comforting scent of spices, a therapeutic escape. I had deliberately cut a

nd her easy friendship was a unexpected blessing. We spent hours talking, sharing dreams, making plans. For the first time

culinary club booth when my eyes landed on another. The Dance Ensemble. A group of students moved fluidly on a makeshift stage, their bodies telling stories through graceful, p

le smile, stood near the stage, handing out flyers.

d friendly. "You look like you're

on my cheeks. "A long time ago.

"It's never too late to start again. We welcome all

small smile touching m

. He was supportive, encouraging, without any hint of the possessiveness that had suffocated me. I fo

nce with the beginners boundless. His confidence wasn't loud or arrogant; it was a

a flutter of nerves. Deryl, ever observant, noticed

shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Just feel the mus

n, the betrayal, the humiliation. I danced for the girl I used to be, for the woman I was becoming. My body remembered the movements, th

had sent me a friend request on social media. I hesitated for a mo

riously. You have a gift. I can' t wai

he frantic, intense heat of Jax's possessive gaze. It was a soft, steady glow

nd sense of peace washing over me. For the first time in a very long time, I felt whole. I was Kylie Baxter, a