Old Dreams No Return (Serena) novel Chapter 21

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21

My life felt full and perfectly on track.

My dance major grades were consistently top-notch, and I was still the last one to leave the Dance Studio every night.

In the club, I’d grown from a clueless newbie into a key member who could handle things on my own.

Mark had been deliberately giving me more planning and organizational tasks, and I always executed them flawlessly. My ideas were both fresh and practical, earning the unanimous trust and affection of the other club members.

That genuine confidence, rooted in my own competence and achievements, slowly but surely replaced the old need for external validation.

My dynamic with Mark still felt strictly platonic, but deep down, something was definitely starting to shift.

Between club discussions, we’d naturally drift into talking about recent art shows or movies. If we ran into each other at the cafeteria, we’d just grab a table, our conversations stretching from academics to all sorts of random, everyday bits. He still offered solid advice whenever I hit a snag, but I wasn’t just passively listening anymore; I’d chime in with my own takes.

There was this unspoken understanding that just hummed between us.

Sometimes, just a look was enough to know exactly what the other was thinking.

I started trying, little by little, to show him those tiny, subtle emotions I usually kept locked away.

Like the annoyance of a less-than-perfect performance, my gripes about some dense academic paper, or even just a quick moan about the endless gloomy weather on the West Coast.

Every single time, Mark would just listen patiently. He’d offer either some rational advice or a gentle word of comfort. Never once did he overstep, and he always got it exactly right.

This safe, comfortable dynamic felt like a gentle current, slowly but surely seeping into the guarded walls I’d built around

my

heart.

Then there was my family

–

they were my ultimate safe haven.

and

My parents’ careers on the West Coast were totally on track, and our new place felt super cozy and welcoming.

Every weekend, if I didn’t have rehearsals, I’d head home.

The dinner table was always piled high with all my favorite dishes. My parents never grilled me about my dating life; they just wanted to know if my studies were going well, if I was getting enough sleep, and if I had enough money.

They’d share funny stories from work, and we’d plan short trips together.

This simple, authentic family life gave me so much emotional support and a huge sense of security.

I knew that no matter what storms brewed outside, there was always a light on for me, and two arms always open.

As the semester drew to a close, UCLA’s School of Arts was hosting its annual showcase of top student work.

My modern dance piece, Tracing Light, which I choreographed and performed as the lead dancer, had been selected to be the grand finale.

The Arts Center was packed solid on the night of the show.

Down in the audience, my parents clutched each other’s hands, their eyes glistening with tears of excitement and pride.

Mark sat right beside them, his eyes locked on me, dazzling under the lights. A distinct smile played on his lips, his gaze sharp and bright.

The show was a massive hit.

Afterward, during the outstanding student awards, I went up to speak as one of the winners.

I stood under the spotlight, wearing a simple dress, standing tall and looking out at the audience, my gaze clear and unwavering.

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