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Not some fanstasy

ROSALINA'S POV

Leo hadn't come back to his apartment last night after our argument.

For some reason, that idea made me sore to my stomach.

After my breakfast of oatmeal and a smoothie, I found myself re-reading the motivational quotes on my walls. They had transformed from beacons of inspiration into mere strings of empty words, taunting my doubts. With a sigh, I left my apartment behind, stepping out into the world outside. I didn't see Leonardo anywhere in sight, even Frankie asked about him and I acted like I wasn't the reason Leonardo had left, maybe to never come back again.

Today, the ballet studio beckoned. Its polished floors and grand mirrors seemed to hold promises of escape from my chaotic thoughts. As I entered, the warm smile of Mr. Bennett, the director, greeted me. He had been back after days of his stay in France for a famous performance.

"Good to see you again, Alina," His use of the name 'Alina,' a moniker I'd never taken to, washed over me. It was my mother's nam
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