Page 169 of The Forbidden Villain
“No.”
The sun shines brightly above us on this summer day, and the nature around us blooms with colorful flowers, while the rich trees surrounding us create a certain kind of magic in our garden that’s lost during winter.
Nodding at the passing maid who holds a heavy tray filled with tea, chocolate chip cookies, and strawberries, I march straight ahead toward the spacious alcove where the bickering duo give each other a high five. “Are you ready, Gavin?”
“Yes. Do your best, kiddo.”
Still, despite the grumping, he holds the camera up and leans forward a bit so he can film my precious five-year-old daughter wearing her skin-tone tights, purple leotard, and matching ballet slippers, twirling in place and performing a pirouette that’s complicated for her age.
She dances toward her camera and shakes her head. “The music is wrong.” The familiar classical tune plays, mixing with the birds' chirping above us as the soft wind whooshes over us, billowing her dark hair backward. “Perfect!” she exclaims and rises to her toes, twirling around several times right before lifting her leg backward and stilling, stretching her entire body. “Did you see? It was a perfect twirl!” She claps and jumps up. “I haven’t lost my balance once!”
“That’s my girl.” Gavin puts the camera away just before wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. “Thank God,” he mutters when the maid brings the tray to them and puts it on the table. “I need a break, darling.” He grabs the cold water bottle and flicks it open, drinking it while the five-year-old rolls her eyes. “Why do you need so many videos anyway? We’ve been filming nonstop for the past hour.” She snatches a cookie from the plate and munches on it, polishing it off in record time. “Do you have a competition soon?”
“Yes! Grandma always repeats practice makes perfect, so I want to see where I make mistakes. Or Patricia would win,” she grumbles, grabbing a strawberry next and biting on it. “She’s very good and doesn’t have a weak left leg like me. It’s my biggest weakness. That’s what Grandma and Aunt Emmaline said.”
Except that’s not what they said.
According to them, she shows early signs of great talent when it comes to ballet because she has the combination of skill, resilience, stubbornness, and artistic nature. So when my daughter made her love of ballet known and asked us to enroll her in a school, my mother took her under her wing right away.
I wasn’t thrilled with that decision for several reasons.
For one, I didn’t want my daughter to live a strict, regimented life where someone could break her spirit, because any sport requires training hard, and you experience more failures than victories through life.
Second, and most importantly, I didn’t want it to affect my daughter’s relationship with her grandparents, as she adores them. She constantly talks to them on the phone, spends all her weekends at their place, they take her on trips to Europe, and my dad even goes to the movies with her. Something he has never done. He just buys out the entire theater for the day so no one will disturb them.
The women in the family convinced me to let her do what she wants, though, and that they would stop if she ever decides to quit, but I know my kid.
She isn’t going to quit until she achieves everything she wants. I’m afraid she inherited that particular character trait from both families.
“Who’s Patricia?” Gavin asks, reaching for a cookie himself, and my daughter sighs.
“She’s a very talented girl. One of the best in school. We can’t be friends.” Gavin’s lips twitch. He must find the idea of two competitive five-year-olds hilarious, except it’s ballet. It’sthatserious out there. “We can’t both be a prima in the future.”
She adjusts the pin on her head, and that’s when she notices me, her emerald-green eyes brightening up instantly as she exclaims, “Daddy!”
My heart squeezes hard whenever she calls me that, and I know the word “dad” is associated with so much happiness for her.
She won’t ever know what it’s like to live in the darkness.
Crouching, I open my arms wide, and she races toward me, reaching me in fifteen short strides, jumping into my embrace. Wrapping my arms tight around her, I get up, making her giggle. “You’re home!” She pats my cheeks. “Did you see? Did you see? I made a perfect twirl!”
“Sure did,princessa.”
“I’m the best of the best, Daddy?”
“The best of the best, even if you fail.” I tap her on the nose. “You need to take a break. You’ve been practicing the whole day.” I touch her ankle, and she winces a little. “Don’t hurt your feet.”
“Ballet requires sacrifices.” She puffs her little chest out. “Or so they say.” She sighs. “I have blisters that really hurt.”
“If you ever want to quit ballet, just tell me so, okay?” I remind her about it every single time, making sure my kid knows I’m always on her side. No matter what she faces in life, she will always know she can count on her family. “And don’t overdo it.”
She hugs me, resting her cheek against mine. “I love you too, Daddy.” Somehow, my kid knows how to read between the lines well.
I married my beautiful woman a year after the events that shook us, and we lived in this happy bubble, where she accepted the darkest parts of me, and with her, I never had to hide who I was.
She just asked me not to bring the darkness into our home because she wanted no part of it, and I gave her my word to keep her safe so nothing would ever affect our family or relationship.
Life was a bliss, or so I thought before Lavender came to my club, scared and out of her mind with a positive pregnancy test. She was terrified of becoming a mother yet wanted it so much, and despite having my own reservations about children, or rather my ability to be a good father, I made it my mission to wipe all her worries away.
