Her face hardened, and she looked at me with utter disdain for me and everything dance-related. Suddenly, I remembered her promising to take my place on stage after my operation.
"Why the hell are you eyeballing me like that, cripple? It's freaking weird."
"Did the dance teacher rat me out again? I knew that old witch couldn't mind her own business!"
"Make me go to another dance class, and I'll jump right here and now. See if you want me dancing on a broken leg!"
Her words stung, bringing back all the efforts and sacrifices I had made for her to pursue her dreams.
I had invested heavily in her rehabilitation because dancing demands excellent physical health.
While my husband and mother-in-law refused to invest a dime in Caitlyn, I used their criminal threats to ensure they didn't stand in her way. Meanwhile, I started taking odd jobs to fund her tuition.
Now, she was using threats of self-harm to escape dancing.
Was I wrong to want her to break free from this toxic environment?
Was I wrong to want her to achieve her dreams on the biggest stage and see the world?
But now, I've come to terms with everything.