"Do you look handsome today or not, huh?" Deidre grins as she intercepts Devon from me. He is absolutely stunned by her and proceeds to gawk at her like she is a goddess.

I smile quickly just to keep her happy. I hoped no one would notice I have spent the last hour choosing the best outfit.

My dad grins even wider when I pass him the bag with diapers, baby oil, milk and everything else Devon needs to survive. "I gotta say, that cologne you're wearing is really great. Are you going out with Annabelle?"

His eyes light up at the mention of her name and I just get a tiny bit tense.

"I'm going to a performance in Four Seasons, actually." It's not that I don't want them to know about her. It's just that I don't want them to get too suggestive or anything of the sort.

Deidre, busy making faces at Devon, which he joyfully tries to recreate, looks at dad with revelation radiating from her eyes: "I read about it! They have La Sylphide." She turns to me impressed, but in a way disappointed. "We tried to get the tickets, but the only free ones cost more than one hundred dollars per person."

I do my best to hide this surprise, better explained as a huge shock. I feel even more obligated to leave a good impression as a part of the audience. I had no idea this performance is such a VIP thing.

Dad nods, but he doesn't look away from me. Like having me for a fool, he asks: "Isn't La Sylphide a ballet? I imagine Annabelle would like to see it."

Ah, shit.

Deidre throws him a nasty look that makes him retreat back in their hotel room. I am starting to notice we men are just terrified of looks women can give us.

I'm left alone with Deidre and Devon, and I have this itchy feeling I need to explain things a bit. I need to handle this situation somehow, so I pull out the received invitation. I obviously hold back the note Annabelle has written herself. "It's an official invitation, see?"

She regards me warmly and doesn't even pay attention to the invitation. I could've given her a receipt from the grocery store or the new wind turbine plan Austin came up with, and she wouldn't see a difference. "It's okay if you like her, you know?"

Like her?!

I'm going there to support her! And not because I'd like her! She said it'd mean a lot to her if I went to watch her performance

"I don't. Is it so weird I'm going to see a ballet? Alone?" I regret that the moment I say it. Of course, it's weird if I'm going to a ballet! If I tried to lie my way out by saying ballet is my guilty pleasure, still no one would buy it. I'm a guy that likes to watch 20th Century Train Track Building, and that's everything ballet isn't. 

Deidre just smiles in a reserved manner and tries to keep Devon from stretching out his arms to me. "Enjoy your evening, Nathan. And say hi to Annabelle for me." 

I'm tempted to say that I won't because she's not gonna be there, but I give up. I've lost this case the moment I mentioned a damn ballet. 

As I leave the hotel where Deidre and dad are currently staying and I sit in my car, I feel a wave of nervousness rush over me. I'm going to see a ballet and Annabelle is going to dance in it... It's so unsettling and exciting at the same time I don't even know how exactly do I feel right now. 

I'm obviously going to the performance because of her. I don't give a damn about ballet, but if it means I'll get to watch her dance, then I'm in for it. Besides, she asked of me very nicely to come. I don't think I ever want to theatre out of my own initiative besides taking Aidan to the children's show. 

I'm ranting here as if she demands of me to take some huge speech about the quality of performance, and the nervousness I feel corresponds to that.

No matter! I'm an adult that knows his manners, I'll survive. I'll sit, keep my opinion to myself, and clap at the end. Maybe I'll even have fun. It's an evening for me, the actual evening off with Devon being in dad and Deidre's care. I should try and enjoy it as much as possible.

As I head off and as I begin nearing The Four Seasons, the tighter the knot in my stomach becomes. There is a crowd of people coming to see the show dressed in clothes that are probably worth more than my own existence. I'm just really thankful I'm wearing a tie.

I want to look for a parking lot like a regular guy, then I see a valet in charge of taking care of the cars. This is such a huge event!

I feel like an expensive whore and Annabelle is my sugar mummy.

A young boy working as a valet looks overjoyed at the sight of my dear Julie, even though there are people that are far better off than I am, people with so much money they could choke on it. One can only imagine what kind of cars they own.

When I hand the keys to the boy, I give him a threatening stare at first. I don't think he completely gets the hint, so I elaborate it to him: "If I see one thing wrong with her-!"

The boy pales and sits in my car more carefully than he intended to do it at first. He better be nice and careful. Unlike most people here I can't afford to crash my car ever Sunday and have it repaired in a day by paying the extra 250.000$ for it.

The crowd of people gathered at the entrance is really overwhelming just to look at. When I remind myself I am a part of this crowd, I begin to feel very pressured. I obviously don't belong in this crowd. Most women have Versace handbags, Louboutins, and underneath probably lingerie that costs more than my yearly income. Men wear tuxes that might as well have been sewn from the silk of a Chinese worm that has gone extinct by now. I need to get to Annabelle or someone I know as soon as possible.

What did I even expect? The performance is held at The Four Seasons and one ticket costs more than a hundred dollars. This definitely isn't the kind of an event that would drag hillbillies from their fields.

I show my invitation to the employee, an older man that holds himself so high up that he could easily pass as a butler of a British count. Passively and in a dead manner he hands the invitation back to me and shows me to the hall where the performance is to take place.

I find a seat towards the front and wait for the show to start, which... might take a while. People aren't in a rush for this like I am. For them this is a regular evening, maybe an overpriced regular evening, but nonetheless an evening spent watching ballet. Meanwhile, I'm not here to see the ballet, but to see Annabelle.

I don't know if the hall is always decorated in gold or not, but it's like being in a fairytale in which I am disgustingly rich. I imagined it to be bigger given this is a ballet performance, but I guess this is how VIP events tend to look.

The temporary stage gazes at me from the front threateningly. Maybe I'm a bit too close to it. I don't want Annabelle to do her pirouette and see me all bored with watching jumping frilly dresses.

I think about getting up and moving a bit farther back in the audience, but from one side my row is already packed, and from the other side an elderly couple shows up asking if the seat next to me is already taken. Once I see the man needs a cane to hold himself up, I don't have the heart to tell him to back off and get out of my way, so I can sit one or two rows behind him. Suppressing a sigh I nod and the old lady occupies the seat next to me wearing a big smile.

Welp, I guess I'm stuck here.

The fuller the hall gets, the more nervous I become. What if I'll hate it. What if she invited someone else to this show as well. Someone like Dominico, or some other fucker?

Wow, no, that's unlikely. It's a VIP event with vert expensive tickets. She went an extra length to get me this one ticket.

I really need to chill. I have turned into a complete nervous wreck, and I don't like it when troubling sensations like this return after being free from them for so long. I'm just being dragged back to highschool when I was nervous if I'll make it home soon enough whenever Daniel and May weren't feeling best. It's kind of a given that my mother was useless. Not neglectful, just useless.

Nevermind this now. I'm here to enjoy the evening, not to go over my childhood. Actually, my childhood was great while it lasted. There's really nothing to be grumpy about right now. It's not like anything can be changed anyway.

The lights go out and I feel my eyes widen in anticipation, then the gentle music tugs along, swaying the scenery into a magical moment, and I am deeply moved and taken aback by it. Like the time when I was opening an invitation, I, now, feel like a child waiting for the spectacle of fireworks.

I swear I know nothing of ballet except about the dresses and that there's a lot of stretching going on. I know even less about music. Even when it comes to Swan Lake, I know a part of the music and that the main character's name is Odette. Yet somehow the music playing now as the first dancers come on stage sounds like something from the past, something I have had stored in the back of my mind for a long time.

The lights light up the stage, and despite my amazement with this beginning, I first skim over the dancers in hopes of finding her. When I can't find her among those already on stage, I feel like a boy with a propeller hat that has been denied a lollipop.

That's when I get a bit bored. I don't care about these ladies slowly pointing at the ceiling and making squats gracefully. I want to see Annabelle!

Do I turn into a brat when I want something or what?

I'm an adult, I swear. I'm on my best behaviour, I'm just... excited about seeing her. The whole point of me being here is to see her...

Whenever one of the dancers jumps and spins, the lady next to me gasps with a smile on her face and then either looks over at her husband or at me. She's definitely one of those people that wants to discuss every scene with someone during the movie.

Do ballets last long?

I mean, it's nice. The ladies clearly know what's up, and there is an aesthetic to it. It's satisfying to watch because they all run around lightly, they are aligned perfectly, the intervals between the jumps are precise, and all in all, it's very OCD satisfying. I guess I see the appeal to it, though after this performance the next time I'll maybe, but unlikely, go see ballet will be in 15 years.

In case she has a smaller part, I pay close attention to every dancer that comes on stage, but they're from white to black, from brunettes to blondes, from tall to short, but there is not a sign of a ginger. And no matter if she does have a smaller role. It's an achievement to be part of the crew that only performs for VIP crowd and for a limited time as well! It's exceptional.

With every new frilly dress on the stage, I get all tense in case it's her. The old woman next to me probably thinks I'm a huge ballet enthusiast because of it. 

I wait patiently, but there are no words to describe how I begin to feel when I see streaks of red hair slowly dance to the stage. My heart literally stops and the room I'm in, the stage she is on, the old lady sitting next to me, the valet boy outside, they all stop existing at the moment I see her. 

Despite her movements being small and minimalistic, I follow them with my eyes religiously, and whenever she stretches out her hand towards the audience, I want to get up and hold it with mine. 

By taking two or three quick steps, she jumps in the air, the white dress making her appear as a fragment of one's favourite forgotten dreams, and she slouches her back. The light captures her face and frames it. Her eyes are closed, she is surrendering to the breeze of her leap, but her face is relaxed, at peace. She looks like an angel sent from heaven up above. 

As she lands on the ground, there is no sound. It doesn't look like her feet touched the ground, it's like she's floating above it. Every move she makes looks so perfect and so graceful, that she is absolutely divine. 

Even when other dancers dance along her side, she is exceptional and stands out. You can see she is completely herself, she is like the girl from the photographs I've seen, just that she's even more outstanding now. 

With her facial expression resting on the moves she makes, she appears so delicate and so out of reach. No matter how wrong this comparison is, I feel like a cliche little poet that can only observe the lady from afar. Looking like this, dancing like this has completely taken me aback. I can't believe that I have kissed and held her before. 

When she opens her eyes, looks around, and smiles expectantly at the only male dancer that comes on stage, I automatically smile as well. The energy she is releasing is contagious. Even when the man lifts her up, she looks like she is deeply in love, despite all the restrictive rules of ballet she has to follow. 

As I think about how at ease she is, how uncomparable she is to others, I feel a stinge of terror. She is amazing, she is everything on that stage. She is so outstanding and dazzling, so different from the Annabelle I know, the one with a bubbly smile and a quick blushing mechanism, that she is like a fantastic being, both beautiful and petrifying. Observing her like this, in the glory of her passion, fills me with a sublime feeling. 

The old lady next to me gently leans over to her husband's side and whispers to him: "Aren't they beautiful?"

I don't hear the pronoun. In my mind, it's just her. That's the only thing that matters to me. The more that I see of her dancing, the more entangled I get with the perplexion of this beauty. 

If she had asked of me to pay for this evening, the entire amount of succeeding hundred dollars, I would have done it in a heartbeat. 

If I decided not to come, if I decided to rot at home and bother myself with overthinking, that would have been the greatest regret of my life. I'm here watching her doing what she adores, doing something she has practised her entire life, something that is a part of her. There is only that much you can learn, then there's also a talent, and she has it all. 

Just sitting here quietly in the audience, I feel honoured to be a part of this. I feel honoured to be one of those people she invited here. To an event like this, as VIP as it is, you don't invite just anyone. It's secluded, private, and as I look at her doing pirouettes and the fifth positions, I dare say intimate as well. A performance like that, where you can see a dancer like her give her everything, it should be private and secluded. She deserves to participate in high profile events like this one because as she dances she is something the most beautiful I have ever seen. 

Whatever I've said before, I take it all back. It's perfectly believable she is the same person as the one I see every morning. The grace, the sensibility, the professionality, the hard work, the honest passion are exactly the same now that she's on a stage and when she is changing Devon's diaper. The only difference is this one right now is wearing a white frilly dress and has pearls in her hair, while the other one usually has her hair up in a simple ponytail and her favourite T-shirt has Betty Boop on it. 

I start smiling to myself. The performance on the stage is unravelling before me, but I can hardly follow it unless Annabelle is a part of it. And even as she is on the stage, my smile grows bigger. Within my mind, I can switch between the dancer Annabelle and the real Annabelle. Still, my amazement with her doesn't falter, it is only growing steadily. 

Like this, she looks truly happy, as happy as she deserves to be. And I wish I could watch her be like that forever.  

A/N: I'm one day late with this chapter and I apologise greatly for it. There's been a lot going on (submitting essays, practising for the Christmas play etc.) and I barely had any time to write. Anyway, I took my time today, listened to Yiruma - River Flows In You the entire time while writing, and finished, in my opinion, one of the most beautiful chapters. Do you share my opinion? If not, tell me which chapter do you find the most beautiful one yourself :3

Join the Community Discord: https://discord.gg/W4CeMpYdkR (clickable link on my profile)

If you liked this chapter, don't forget to colour the vote star and leave a comment ^o^

~Blackie