Ginger immediately put on this helpless, pitiful look. “Lee, I just wanted to persuade Darcey to admit her mistake and stop being so stubborn.”

I turned to him, hopeful that he’d see through her act and understand the truth. But he just let out a sigh. “Darcey, let’s end this here.”

That sentence shattered me completely.

So, in his eyes, I really was just an ungrateful plagiarist.

“Fine. Let’s end it here.” I nodded, my voice bitter, strained. “Enjoy your meal. I’ve got things to do.”

I turned around and headed upstairs, locking myself in my room again. The moment I hit the bed, the tears came uncontrollably.

Turns out, the worst part isn’t being falsely accused. It’s not the insults from strangers online. It’s being misunderstood by the one person you trusted the most.

The one who promised to protect me—always—now chose silence.

I opened my laptop, searching for flights. The soonest, the fastest.

If there’s no place for me here, then why stay?

Suddenly, my phone rang. It was Aunt Petunia.

“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.

They were chatting about wedding plans, decorating their new villa, and their future together. Their voices floated through the floor like a dull knife, repeatedly twisting and tearing at my heart.

I stood by the window, staring at the roses blooming in the yard.

There was a time when I also pictured myself beside Ulysses. A different version of us, a different future. But now, even the simplest thing—trust—is gone. What was left to hold on to?

It’s better to leave now. While they’re still wrapped up in their happy little bubble. I’ll take whatever dignity I have left, pack up my broken dreams, and slip away quietly from this place that’s hurt me so much.

At least at Royal Ballet School, I can start fresh. No one there knows my past. No one will judge me. I can create something new and better and finally prove myself.

This time, I’ll keep everything—every shred of evidence—safe. No one will ever get the chance to take me down again.

After I hung up with my aunt, I found myself sitting in the rehearsal room, staring blankly.

This space held so many pieces of me.

The photos on the wall? They captured every milestone. The trophies in the corner? Proof of how far I’d come. And the costumes in the closet? Each one carried a memory.

I walked to the mirror and stared at my reflection.

My black training outfit is faded now. It used to be my favorite. I still remember the day I bought it—Ulysses was there with me, helping me pick it out.

“This looks perfect on you,” he said, adjusting my collar. “When you’re standing on a big stage someday, you’ve got to wear the most stunning costume.”

I was 13 back then, full of dreams about the future.

I really thought that as long as I worked hard enough, those dreams would come true.

But now? All those hopeful expectations have completely fallen apart.

I started packing my clothes, one piece at a time.

I hesitated when I got to the costume Ginger had accused me of plagiarizing. I stared at it for a long time before deciding to take it.

I’d poured my heart and soul into that design. Even if I couldn’t clear my name right now, I wasn’t going to leave it behind.

Halfway through packing, I suddenly remembered my notebook.

That notebook held everything—the entire process of creating the choreography, from brainstorming to the final touches. Sketches, notes, revisions… everything was in there. If I could find it, maybe I’d still have a chance to prove myself.

I tore through the rehearsal room, searching every corner, then went back to my bedroom to look again.

But no matter where I checked, the notebook was gone.

Right then, Ginger walked in, casually pushing the door open.

“Looking for something?” she asked.

I looked up and met her half-smiling eyes and smirk. And in that instant, I knew.

“You took my notebook, didn’t you?”

“Notebook?” She tilted her head like she was trying to remember. “Oh, you mean that little book full of doodles?”

“Give it back to me,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

She laughed softly. “Sorry, it’s already been taken care of. I mean, what’s the point of keeping a plagiarist’s work, right?”

My hands started shaking. “How could you? That notebook was my blood, sweat, and tears!”

“Your blood, sweat, and tears?” She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Darcey, do you really think you can make a comeback? Even if you had that notebook, who’s going to believe you?”

I stared at her smug face and felt a wave of hopelessness hit me. She wasn’t wrong. In this industry, she had all the connections, all the power. And me? I was just an adopted orphan. Even if I screamed the truth until I lost my voice, who’d take my side?

Then my phone buzzed.

It was an email from Royal Ballet School, reminding me to complete the admission procedures as soon as possible.

Somehow, looking at that familiar logo made me calm down.

Right, I still have Royal Ballet School. I still had a fresh start waiting for me.

“You’re right,” I said, looking her straight in the eye. “Everything here is yours now.”

She obviously didn't expect me to say that and was stunned for a moment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m leaving,” I said simply, turning back to pack. “Leaving this villa. Leaving this city.”

“Leaving?” She let out a laugh. “You think running away will make people forget you’re a plagiarist?”

I stopped packing and looked at her.

“I’m not running. I’m letting go. Letting go of these years of obsession, letting go of feelings I shouldn’t have had, and letting go of the pain you caused.”

Her smile froze. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’ve always been paranoid about me and Ulysses, haven’t you?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Well, don’t worry. You’ll never see me in your life again.”

As soon as I said it, I felt this weight lift off my chest.

Right. If staying here only brought me more pain, why not just let it all go?

I went back to packing, carefully organizing every scrap of evidence that might prove my innocence someday.

Even if it was useless now, the truth would come out eventually.

Ginger opened her mouth to say something else, but before she could, I heard Ulysses’s voice downstairs.

She immediately snapped into her sweet, doting act and ran off to greet him.

I heard her voice drifting up from the stairs.

“Darling, you’re finally back!”

Then he gently asked, “Hmm, are you tired today?”

They’re such a perfect couple. They’re really meant to be, and I, from the very beginning, have always been the outsider.

I opened my laptop and started booking my flight. My aunt had already taken care of everything, and in three days, I’d be on my way.

Once everything was packed up, I stood in the center of the rehearsal room, and for the last time, I performed that dance they all thought I plagiarized.

No music, just me and my reflection in the mirror.

I moved slowly through each step like I was pouring all the sweet, sour, and bitter moments of these years into every movement.

After finishing the final step, I took a deep bow. That bow wasn’t just for the past—it was a goodbye and a hope for what’s next.

With less than a week before I left, I started sorting through the things I needed to sell.

To make some extra cash, I applied for a part-time teaching gig at a nearby ballet dance academy three months ago.

“Your fundamentals are awesome,” the instructor said after watching me demonstrate. “When can you start teaching?”

“Anytime,” I told her.

So, just like that, I started my nine-to-five teaching schedule. Mostly basic classes, with kids and teens as my students.

Watching them practice so earnestly, I saw a glimpse of my younger self.

Sometimes, I’d come across kids who truly loved dancing. The pure passion in their eyes reminded me of how I’d felt when I first started dancing—so simple, so pure, untainted by anything else.

After the academy closed in the evenings, I’d stay behind to practice by myself. I’d turn off the main lights and leave only the spotlight on. In that soft glow, I’d choreograph a new routine.

It was a dance about farewells. No fancy moves, just the most basic steps. But every step was filled with my emotions, a reflection of everything I’d been through over the years.

Sometimes, I practiced until late into the night. The entire building would be silent, with only the sound of music and my footsteps echoing in the empty studio.

One night, though, I ran into Ulysses at the convenience store downstairs from the studio.

He was standing by the door, looking tired. “Still practicing this late?” he asked.

I stopped and walked over to wipe the sweat off my face. “Yeah, I’m about to head out.”

“Go home. It’s late, and it’s not safe,” he said.

I kept my head down. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I haven’t seen you at home lately.”

“I got a job outside,” I replied.

“Money’s tight?” he asked.

I looked up and met his concerned gaze, feeling a sudden wave of bitterness in my chest. “No, I just want to make a bit more.”

He pulled out his wallet. “If you need anything, I can—”

“No, it’s fine,” I interrupted. “I can handle it myself.”

After that, I grabbed my bag and prepared to leave. As I walked past him, he suddenly said, “I’m sorry.”

I paused, my steps faltering. “Why are you apologizing?”

“About the competition…” he started.

“You don’t have to say anything,” I cut him off, forcing a bitter smile. “It’s all in the past now.”

He seemed like he wanted to say more, but his phone rang. It was Ginger calling. I took that chance to leave quickly, afraid that if I stayed a second longer, I wouldn’t be able to control my emotions.

Back home, I continued sorting through the things I needed to sell.

When I opened one of the boxes, I froze. Inside were the gifts Ulysses had given me over the years: the ballet shoes for my 14th birthday, the necklace for my 16th, the watch for my 17th…

Each one carried a special memory. I remembered the look on his face when he gave me these gifts. I remembered every word he’d said.