Page 132 of Fighting Fate

"But, why ask? You've seen me at every rehearsal. You know I'm prepared," I reply, a hint of frustration in my voice.

He lets out a long sigh. "I get it, and being there for you has been important to me. But I needed to make sure you're truly okay, considering there's just a handful of us in your corner."

But what he doesn't realize is that during the break, I had a heart-to-heart with my parents, particularly with my mom. Our relationship had grown distant over the semester; we weren't close to begin with, but we had never been so far apart. When I saw her over the winter break, I couldn't hold back my emotions. She assured me that everything would be okay, and I believed her. I realized that I could rely on her, even though I hadn't wanted to in the past. So, when I received her text this morning and her call last night, both expressing her pride in me, it meant the world. "I am so proud of you, Mill. I always have been. I may not always show it or say it, but I am truly proud of you, as is your dad. I'm immensely sorry you haven't felt our support and I'll keep apologizing. We love you and can't wait to see where your dreams take you, including at this competition. Can't wait to see you kick some Sutton ass." Hearing her use the word "ass" made me laugh; she's never been one for swearing.

It had dawned on me that one obstacle, in the form of my best friend's situation, even if I did love him, was that I shouldn't allow my entire world to come crashing down. I understand that regardless of where mine and Miles' path leads from here, my focus needs to be on the present, not on a future that might never be.

"It's nothing," I insist, sidelining the lingering thoughts of Miles. There's a surge of thrill coursing through me, yet in the stillness, my mind wanders, touching on the void left behind.

Snippets of his current life have reached me. He's come clean to his family about his dream of becoming a doctor and has embarked on a treatment journey. Even with the space between us, my pride in him swells—for confronting his cancer head-on and pursuing his aspirations.

That's the thing about life—it's about pushing against the odds, just like Henry Ford said about airplanes taking off against the wind. It's a lesson I learned early on, and it's what keeps me going.

Wyatt places a comforting hand on my thigh, his touch easing my tension. I'm grateful for his unwavering support. Smiling, I focus on driving us to the competition. We arrive at the Rhythm Haven Center, a building adorned with vibrant banners and dance graphics. The nerves finally hit me.

This is it, Milli. Your moment to shine.

Inside, the place buzzes with activity. Young dancers and their moms are everywhere. I feel a pang for the Hanmann sisters, missing this experience with their mom, but I know our routine will make up for it.

As we head for the check-in table, Wyatt places a hand on my shoulder. "This is your moment. Own it. I'll be in the auditorium cheering you on."

I hug him tightly. "Thanks for being here. I couldn't do this without you."

He smiles warmly. "Always, Milli. Always."

With a final wave, I enter room 5, ready to give my all for the Hanmann sisters. Their bright, eager faces greet me, and I'm filled with a sudden surge of confidence. Today, I'm going to make them proud, no matter what.

"Miles, you look like you're about to pass out. Nervous?" Luke observes as we park outside the Rhythm Haven Center. I stop my hands from their anxious dance, giving my thighs a reassuring pat.

This feels like déjà vu, akin to the time I told my dad I wanted to pursue medicine instead of the NFL.

Calm down, Chasen.

I'm here to support Milli, albeit from a distance. She probably won't even notice I'm here. And if she does? Well, I can always slip away if she's uncomfortable with my presence.

After giving my legs one last encouraging slap, I push the truck door open, brushing off Luke's concern. "You coming or not? I can't sit in your freezer-on-wheels any longer."

He chuckles and follows me out as we head into the auditorium, finding ourselves in seats uncomfortably close to the stage.

Great, front and center. Just perfect.

But hey, at least I won't miss any of the competition. The only downside? There's a high chance Milli will spot me here.

I'm surprised to see the Suttons and my parents among the crowd. Milli has confided in me before about feeling overlooked by them, yet today suggests a turning point, perhaps a move in the right direction. It warms my heart to see them here for her. She's worthy of their backing, just as any child merits encouragement from their family. I offer them a friendly wave before taking my seat.

Mrs. Sutton greets me with a knowing smile. "Good to see you, Miles. Milli will be happy you're here."

I'm not so sure about that, but I offer a friendly smile, anyway. "Yeah, just here to support Milli," I say, which is genuinely true.

While Luke chats with our parents, I take a moment to appreciate the auditorium. It's an impressive venue, conveniently located near campus. The high ceilings are adorned with elegant chandeliers, casting a warm glow over the comfortably arranged seats. The walls display a tasteful mix of art and history, adding to the charged atmosphere of anticipation.

Suddenly, a voice booms from the stage, announcing the start of the Dance Duo competition and welcoming everyone. The moment the curtains sweep aside, performers flood the stage—trios, duos, a vibrant mosaic of talent. My gaze darts across this spectacle, instinctively searching. Deep down, I feel it—Milli knows I'm here. It's that inexplicable pull, like an unseen hand drawing you to someone in a crowded room.

It's always been there.

Suddenly, her head pivots our way. Caught in the harsh wash of stage lights, I find myself frustratingly unable to discern her thoughts. Is she glad I'm here? Annoyed? It's a mystery, lost in the brightness. But no time to ponder; the show is shifting gears, the spotlight dancing from group to group, revealing the enthusiastic dance instructors.

I squint through the dazzle, trying to interpret Milli's expression. It's like piecing together a puzzle in pitch darkness—impossible. Regardless of the uncertainty chewing at me about Milli's feelings, the room is charged with an infectious energy. Each group parades their distinctive charm, igniting the auditorium with a dynamic pulse.