Gemotions

Eliza had poured her heart and soul into competitive ballroom dancing for years. It was her escape, her passion. Now, her son, eight-year-old Finn, was captivated. He'd watch her practice for hours, his eyes wide with a fascination that both thrilled and unsettled her. He pleaded for lessons. She enrolled him. But then, as he blossomed, she started to withdraw.

She'd find herself making up excuses to skip his lessons, feigning illness or important errands. The studio, once a sanctuary, now felt like a prison. The joyous music, the swirling gowns, the focused energy of the other dancers – all of it amplified the weight in her chest. She saw her younger self in Finn's determined face, the burning desire, and the realization of what she had lost.

At home, she’d turn down the music, the laughter, everything that reminded her of the world that used to be hers. She barely looked at him, and her replies were short and clipped. It was easier to ignore the sparkle in his eyes than it was to face the abyss.