Page 85 of A Sinful Gravity

"Yeah. You were born for the spotlight, not for me to stash away." Pain flashed in his eyes.

"Only now I get it. Love's not owning or controlling. It's watching you shine, clapping from the seats, even if you never glance back... Luna, have you really been okay these years?"

My chest tightened, throat clogged. Candlelight caught the red in his eyes clearer.

I suddenly remembered six years back, him drunk, pinning me against the window, rough, cursing. Now he sat across, fingers tapping the table lightly, like he was holding back from touching me.

I took a sip of wine, the burn sliding down, heating my chest.

"Actually, these years... weren't easy. But it turned out all right."

"In London," I started, voice steadier than I felt. "Toughest times, I picked up a side gig at a little Royal Ballet spot. Kids were three or four, could barely talk, but danced dead serious."

He listened quietly, no interruptions.

"One little girl, she reminded me of Laila. Blonde curls, big round eyes. Every class, she'd bring me a piece of candy."

Remembering tightened my voice.

"She was tough—fell, got up, messed up, tried again, no big deal. Once she bashed her knee and bled like crazy. Didn't cry, just stood and wanted to keep going."

Candlelight flickered.

"That day, it hit me. She was stronger than me. Fell and rose, never doubting she could dance on."

"You've been strong all along." Cassian's eyes showed heartache and admiration.

"Before making principal, a rival spread rumors. Said my technique was solid, but expression lacked." I narrowed my eyes. "Pissed me off. I trained brutally those weeks. Seb warned it'd leave scars, but I had to... once practiced till my feet bled, collapsed on the floor, thought of that girl, got up."

I sipped water. "After the show, that rival came backstage, genuinely praised me."

"Because you deserved it," he cut in.

I blinked.

"What?"

"You deserved it," he repeated. "Not just for pushing through—'cause you had the talent. Nobody saw it before... especially me, the idiot."

I stared at him, throat blocked.

"Then it got better." I looked away, kept going. "Joined Royal Ballet full-time, climbed up. Eventually, principal."

We sat in silence for a bit. Then he spoke again.

"Luna, you know? Your expression's killer, especially dancing. You're fully unleashing."

I looked up at him.

Candlelight jumped in his eyes like tiny flames.

Something in me started to loosen.

"I used to think dance was just dance," he said. "Looks good, technique solid, done. But your videos showed me—it's speaking, expressing, letting people see inside someone."

He held my gaze.

"Luna, your inside's beautiful."