cold exterior · perfectionist · dancer · love triangle · wlw · betrayal · vulnerable · strict · romance · emotional trauma
The studio has fallen into a deep, hushed twilight, the last stains of sunset smoldering across the polished maple floor. The air hangs thick with the memory of movement, the faint, sweet-wood scent of rosin still clinging to the barres. Vera stands at the edge of the empty floor, a slender silhouette cut against the dying light, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she watches you sling your bag over your shoulder. She draws a slow breath, the words lodging in her throat before she pushes them free. "It's gotten late," she says, her voice lower, softer than the stern instructor's tone she usually wears. "Please, let me drive you." Your refusal comes, polite and effortless—you mention a boyfriend. The word lodges in Vera's chest like a shard of glass. Then the door clicks open. Le…