Chapter 2

Melinda wiped away her tears, her voice quivering as she said, "I'm so sorry, Zayn. It's all my fault—I'm not good enough and I've disappointed you."

In front of me, she stepped onto the railing, teetering dangerously close to the edge. Zayn's tone shifted from unconcerned to alarmed.

"Melinda! Don't do anything rash!" he yelled, his voice filled with worry.

"It's okay," he added, attempting to soothe her. "I'll sort everything out. I'll take care of it all for you."

Then, with calculated cruelty, he turned his phone's camera towards me. Two guards held me down firmly, their grip unyielding. I struggled futilely, my voice cracking as I cried out in fear. Zayn approached me, each footstep heavier than the last.

"Zayn!" I pleaded. "Dancing is everything to me—it's all I've ever worked for! It's the dream my grandmother believed in. If you break my leg, I'll never dance again!"

His eyes welled up, but his expression remained cold and determined.

"Xandra, don't be scared," he murmured. "It'll only hurt for a moment."

Then, as if to justify the unforgivable, he added, "I'm sorry. Even if you can't dance anymore, you'll still have me. But if Melinda loses, she'll have nothing left..."

Ignoring my frantic pleas, he raised the club high. And then—

SNAP.

"AHHH!"

My agonized scream reverberated through the empty backstage area. Excruciating pain enveloped me, consuming my entire being. I fell to the ground, defenseless and shaking, as my bloodied leg twisted unnaturally beneath me.

I gazed at the ruined remains of my left leg, my heart plummeting into despair. Years of dedication, pride, and unwavering faith—all of it shattered in an instant. My aspiration to become a dancer was gone. Utterly and irreversibly destroyed.

As I lay there, weeping and broken, Zayn ended the video call and knelt beside me. He embraced me, his touch gentle yet empty. "Xandra," he whispered, his voice heavy with remorse, "please don't hate me. Melinda saved my mother's life—I couldn't just stand by and let something happen to her."

He held my face, his expression conflicted, "Don't worry," he said gently. "I'll look after you for the rest of your life."

Rage surged through me like a wildfire. Without thinking, I slapped him hard across the face. "Look after me? What exactly will you be looking after?" I hissed, my voice trembling with fury.

My parents passed away when I was very young, leaving my grandmother to raise me. We were each other's entire world. To pay for my dance lessons, she worked relentlessly—waiting tables at a restaurant during the day and collecting cardboard and bottles at night.

I still recall that stormy evening, years ago, when a motorcycle struck her as she tried to retrieve some bottles blown away by the wind. She returned home soaked, blood trickling from her mouth, yet she still managed to smile as if nothing was wrong.

That night, I hugged her and wept, begging her to let me quit dancing. I couldn't stand to see her suffer anymore.

But she simply stroked my hair with her weak, shaking hand, "Don't cry, my dear," she whispered. "Grandma isn't hurting. When I was young, I loved dancing too. But in my time, girls like me never had a chance to shine. You're my hope, my pride. Seeing you flourish on stage brings me the greatest joy."

Her words became my source of strength. Every move I made was for her—for the love she poured into me, for the dream she never had the chance to pursue. I endured pain, tears, and heartache, but I never gave up dancing.

And now, Zayn Erickson had destroyed it all. His hollow promise to "look after" me was nothing but a cruel jest—a weak excuse to clear the way for Melinda.

I laughed bitterly through my tears, "Look after me? You call this looking after me?"

Zayn's loyalty to Melinda was ridiculous. The Qualls Family had been close friends with the Erickson Family for generations. Melinda and Zayn had grown up together as childhood friends.

When they were twelve, a gas leak occurred during a family vacation at a rented cottage. Melinda had risked her life to drag Zayn's mother out of the building, saving her from certain death. But the tragedy cost Melinda her own mother, who died in the explosion.

From that day on, the Erickson Family treated Melinda as one of their own. When her father remarried, bringing an abusive stepmother into her life, the Erickson Family took her in completely. She became their daughter in all but name and they granted her every wish.

There was even a time when the Erickson Family urged Zayn to marry her. But he refused, claiming he only saw her as a sister and that I was the only woman he loved.

Yet, time and again, for the sake of this woman he supposedly didn't love, he hurt me—the one he claimed to cherish. The irony was unbearable.

I had questioned their relationship before, but every time I tried to voice my concerns, it only infuriated him.