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It’s not showy.

It’s… intentional.

Every step measured.

Every movement connected.

We move together easily, my body falling into the rhythm without thought, his hand guiding, steady, grounding.

I can feel people watching.

I know they are.

But it doesn’t touch me.

Not here. Not like this.

“I’m glad we came,” I murmur softly.

Zach’s hand tightens slightly at my waist.

“So am I,” he says quietly.

We turn slowly, the room blurring around us, the music wrapping around us in a way that feels almost private despite everything.

By the time the song ends, my skin is warm, my breath just slightly uneven.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice low.

“Yeah,” I say, though I press a hand lightly to my chest. “Just… a little hot.”

“You want to sit?”

I shake my head.

“I think I just need some air.”

He nods immediately. We move off the floor, passing Elijah.

“Just stepping outside for a minute,” Zach says.

Elijah’s gaze flicks over me, sharp, assessing.

“Don’t go far.”

“I won’t.”

And then we step out into the night. The cool air hits my skin instantly, and I inhale deeply, letting it settle into me.

Everything feels lighter. Like something has shifted. Like something has finally started to move forward.

And for the first time in a long time, I feel it.

Not just survival.

Not just recovery.

But something else. Something steadier. Something real. Something like… hope.