After a moment of awkwardness, Gavin and Camille quickly adjusted to the mistaken roles. They began chatting and laughing effortlessly with the business contact.

Standing together, they looked like a well-matched couple.

Audrey watched silently, taking a photo with her phone. As she turned to leave, the sharp "needle" buried deep in her heart pricked her once more. A sharp, intricate pain that rapidly spread through her chest, even causing a sour ache at the tip of her nose.

Just as she was about to exit the mall, a voice called out, "Audrey?"

She turned to see someone waving vigorously from the descending escalator. To her surprise, it was her instructor from the dance academy.

"Mrs. Marsh?" she exclaimed, her heart lifting with joy.

Lydia Marsh quickly descended the escalator and approached, taking hold of Audrey's hands with evident joy. "It's really you, Audrey! It's been five years since we last saw each other. How have you been?"

A wave of sadness washed over her. Five years had passed, and she had lived like a useless invalid.

Facing Lydia now, she felt embarrassed.

Still holding Audrey's hand, Lydia asked, "Are you busy? If not, let's find a place to have some afternoon tea."

Audrey wasn't busy at all. In the past, her deep-seated insecurity might have led her to shut herself off further, politely declining any connection to her old dance world and its people.

But ever since she had opened that album of dance photos and videos on her phone, it felt as though a fissure had cracked open in her darkened sky. Suddenly, she yearned for light to pour in.

She nodded, her eyes shimmering with tears. "Sounds good."

Lydia led her to a cozy teahouse located in the center of the first floor, and she asked, "How are the others? What have they been up to?"

She had distanced herself from that world so completely and for so long that she had withdrawn from every single group chat with her former peers.

"Do you really want to know?" Lydia gave her a perceptive look, aware of her situation.

The promising student who had been guaranteed a spot in graduate school suddenly gave it up. Naturally, questions had arisen, and Lydia had even made a special trip to Soliaridge to visit her once.

Audrey nodded emphatically, and Lydia proceeded to fill her in. Five years was indeed enough time to transform a person's life entirely.

Her classmates had all moved forward in remarkable ways. Some had joined dance troupes and risen to become principal dancers. Others had pursued advanced studies abroad and now held doctoral degrees. A few had stayed on at the academy as instructors, nurturing the next generation of talent.

Everyone had taken a big step forward in their respective paths. Only she had remained stagnant.

But starting from today, she vowed to make a change. She would strive to catch up, even if she could no longer dance. She would find her place in other fields.

"I-I'm ready to give you an update on my progress too," she said, her eyes feeling hot and prickly.

She felt she owed Lydia more than just a promise.

"That would be wonderful," Lydia replied with a smile as warm and encouraging as ever.

Audrey leaned in close to Lydia's ear and whispered about her plans to study abroad.

"This is fantastic! I knew it! None of my students are quitters!" Lydia exclaimed, gripping her hand tightly in excitement. "And it couldn't be better timing. Our troupe has a European tour coming up. You should come along to get a sense of things and start adapting to life over there."

"I..." Audrey hesitated, not sure if her legs could handle the trip.

She could no longer dance; even walking was a pain for her. And the graduate program she had applied for was in a theoretical field.

"Nothing's impossible," Lydia encouraged her. "If that accident hadn't happened, you would have been a member of the youth dance troupe by now. You can join us in a support role—as a runner, stage manager, or even helping with makeup."

Lydia spoke with such firm conviction, treating Audrey not as a cripple but as someone fully capable.

Audrey couldn't help but smile; she loved this feeling of not being defined or pitied because of her disability. Even if she couldn't dance, she could still contribute in other ways. She wasn't just a useless invalid.

Lydia's phone vibrated with an incoming message. After reading it, she looked up and said, "It's my husband. Would you mind if he joins us?"

"Of course not," Audrey replied with a smile, though she felt a bit timid about it.

After five years of seclusion, she had grown unaccustomed to meeting new people, but she knew she had to start somewhere. This was her first step.

"Then I'll have him come over," Lydia said, replying to the message.

However, what Audrey never could have anticipated was that Lydia's husband turned out to be the very same business contact Gavin had met earlier.

"Owen is here on business, and I came along for a few days of leisure, not expecting to run into you. It's fate," Lydia explained.

Audrey noticed that Gavin, Camille, and Owen were walking together toward the teahouse.

When the trio finally arrived at their table, Audrey remained seated, observing the fascinating shifts in color on Gavin's and Camille's faces.

"Come take a seat. This is my wife, Lydia. She is a dance teacher," Owen said warmly. "And this is the gentleman I'm collaborating with on this trip, Mr. Gavin Whitmore, along with his wife."

Gavin's hand trembled slightly, and Camille fidgeted restlessly. They both stared at Audrey with tense anxiety.

Audrey simply looked back at them, offering a faint, composed smile.

Lydia also made introductions for Audrey's benefit. "This is my husband, Owen."

Then, pointing to Audrey, she added, "And this is one of my students—the one who had the greatest potential to win the National Dance Championship back in the day."

Gavin stiffened at the mention of the contest, and his gaze shifted downward, as if he were attempting to look at Audrey's leg.

Audrey detected unmistakable pain in his eyes. Of course, he was in pain.

If it hadn't been for her injury, he would never have married her. In that case, the woman by his side now could have rightfully been his wife.

Audrey chuckled, "Actually, I am..."

"Ah!" Camille let out a sharp yelp at just the right moment, interrupting Audrey mid-sentence.

Audrey paused, looking over. Camille had spilled the tea, the hot liquid splashing all over her hand and clothes.

"I'm so sorry. How embarrassing. This is really rude of me," she stammered, hurriedly grabbing napkins to wipe it up.

"It's alright," Lydia said, not understanding the underlying tension, and even helped by passing more tissues.

The episode prevented Audrey from revealing the truth. But if Audrey had truly wanted to continue, no one could have stopped her.

From across the table, Gavin cast her a pleading glance, subtly shaking his head and mouthing, "Don't say it."

Truth be told, she hadn't intended to say it in the first place. She had deliberately spoken only half the sentence, just to watch the two of them scramble in panic.

Throughout this afternoon tea session, some sat as if on pins and needles, while others remained perfectly at ease.

As Audrey reached for her teacup, Lydia suddenly noticed something in her hand. "Is that a wedding ring? You're married? To whom?"

The question landed like a bolt from the blue, causing Gavin and Camille to pale dramatically.

Audrey glanced at Gavin's hand resting beside his teacup, a mocking smile curling at the corner of her lips. He had never once worn a wedding ring; the pair from their ceremony had been removed immediately after the wedding and left to gather dust somewhere unknown.

"Yes, I've been married for five years now," she replied calmly. "My husband's last name is Whitmore."

Lydia blinked. "Whitmore?" Her gaze moved instinctively toward Gavin, and Owen did the same. For a second, the entire table went silent. Audrey took a small sip of tea before setting the cup back down. Her hand was steady now.

"Gavin Whitmore," she said. "He is my

Two days later, Audrey sat in a quiet office across from a divorce lawyer.

She had chosen the firm herself and had not used anyone connected to Gavin, his company, or the Whitmore family. For the first time in five years, she wanted advice that belonged only to her.

T