For a fleeting moment, his expression softened. His hand reached out, resting gently on my head and hope flickered in my chest. Maybe—just maybe—he would let me have this one chance.
But then his phone buzzed, the shrill ringtone cutting through the silence. He answered the video call and Melinda’s tear-streaked face appeared on the screen. She stood on the rooftop of an eighteen-story building, her eyes swollen and red.
“Zayn,” she said, her voice trembling, “being the chief dancer has always been my dream. But as long as Xandra is here, I’ll always be second best…”
She wiped her tears, her voice trembling as she spoke, “I’m sorry, Zayn. It’s my fault—I’m not skilled enough and I’ve let you down.”
Before my eyes, she placed one foot on the railing, teetering on the edge. Zayn’s voice shifted from indifference to panic.
“Melinda! Don’t do anything stupid!” he shouted, his tone filled with desperation.
“Don’t worry,” he continued, trying to calm her. “I’ll fix everything. I’ll handle it all for you.”