Previously, when I rushed home to find Caitlyn unconscious in our apartment filled with gas, it was Dorothy who had "accidentally" forgotten to turn off the stove, hoping to end Caitlyn's life.
Desperate to save her, I ignored my injuries and rushed her to the hospital.
It wasn't until a nurse pointed it out that I realized I had severely sprained my ankle along the way, resulting in a fracture.
At that moment, I had just enough money for one surgery, and I chose Caitlyn's well-being over my own, given her promising future.
That choice meant I'd never walk onto the stage and dance again.
Since she now viewed me as a cripple forcing her into dance, I decided to set her free.
With the surgery scheduled and Caitlyn due back from school, I didn't rush to the café this time. Instead, I entered the dance studio and reminisced about my days on the national stage. Those were glorious days, filled with the joy of performance and longing for those times.
Lost in those memories, Caitlyn arrived home.
The sight of me stepping out of the studio wiped the smile off her face.