“Darcey, I saw the news,” she said, her voice filled with concern. “Sweetie, are you okay?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Auntie, I want to leave early.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Your passport and visa are ready. When do you want to go?”
“As soon as possible.”
“Alright. I’ll book the ticket now.” She paused. “You don’t need to explain anything, sweetie. I understand. Some things… time will prove.”
After the call, I started packing. There wasn’t much I wanted to take. The ballet dancing supplies I’d collected over the years? I didn’t even want to take them. They were loaded with memories I couldn’t bear to relive.
Halfway through packing, I noticed my notebook was gone—the one where I’d sketched out the entire process of my choreography, from the first idea to the final steps. It was the only proof I had of my innocence.
I tore through the room, checking every corner, but it was nowhere. And then, a chilling thought hit me. ‘Had Ginger stolen it?’
But honestly, what did it matter now? Even if I found it, what would it change?
Late at night, I heard Ulysses and Ginger talking downstairs.