“He is so perfect, you are lucky to have him”, she said. I know that he is a genuine guy. Very different from the others whom she had met. One who gelled well in all social groups – he was one with whom nobody had discrepancies, one against whom nobody had grudges, one who was not just heard but to whom everybody listened to. He was one with whom every guy wanted to have contacts and every girl desired to be linked up with. He was friendly with all; may it be girls or guys but never did he hit upon a girl like others did nor even flirted to the extent of slightest harm.
He was with her. She was the ‘chosen one’. WHY??? That was one question that kept knocking against her rib. Somewhere deep down her she could sense its existence. She knew something was amiss. Something she could not point her finger at. But it was there…
Experience had taught her never to ignore her instincts and…never to break the rules.
But she had broken the first one. She had allowed Peter to be a confidant and a lover. She had been distracted and had ignored her instincts. Later she had borne a heavy price for letting things off her guard.
But he was different; Peter had to be different; wasn’t he, she questioned. There was no reply. The tinkering feeling in her gut had to be wrong; her heart throb told her that.
She lived in the present.
She had been an independent person and she preferred it the simple way. She went to the studio for dancing lessons where he was himself in the final stages of his training. Any distraction could prove disastrous for their respective careers.
He was an established ballerino. Her journey from a balletomane to a ballerina was not easy. Presently, she is standing for a final showdown in the backstage area.
She was awaiting him to come up and wish her luck; to give her a pep talk; to tell her to focus on her pirouettes; to maintain her balance when she jumped for a grand jetѐ, but that moment never came. Those words were never uttered. Those eyes never gazed upon her with exuberance. That sheer joy she missed.
He had walked out on her. No explanation. No excuse. As if an excuse would be enough. He never looked back.
Though they ran into each other every alternate day at the studio, he looked down upon her. These days; not only his conceit filled the ambience but his companion was Shaisha. Each moment was a double edged sword for Megan.
This distraction had cost her the title of a national ballerina. Yet she tried every moment to get him back. She talked to him. Asked him where it went wrong. If there was a reason they could sort it out. If the relationship was a diversion they could work through together. But all she was given was embarrassment and humiliation; tears and hatred. She felt perplexed and abused.
He had found another way to return her love. In presence of their acquaintances he would mock her, insult her and crack jokes at her expense. While he stood exercising at the barre he would laugh off and tell their common friends the intimate details of their discussions. She tried calling him up and he retorted saying who would want a girl like you when I have Shaisha. She even tried meeting him. She seeked the help of a trusted friend Dan. It was decided that he would linger after the class and she would come while Dan excused himself for a few minutes. But things didn’t work out as planned. At least not what she had planned for. While Dan went out on the pretext of call privacy and Sylvi entered she found Peter, thought not alone. She still wanted to go inside and talk to him but her feet wouldn’t move as her ears pricked on her own name. Then it all came down upon her.
“I had never loved Slyvi”, he said.” I had a bet that I could nail her on the day of the showdown and so I did. Shaisha and I have been out like rabbits and you have known it.” Now Sylvi peeped in. The studio had a haunted look. Lights dim and just two people at the barre. She saw Peter with Ryan.
Her world collapsed. She felt everything was caving in. Ryan had taught her the first lesson of her life – never to make a confidant. She had trusted Ryan. She had helped him improve his fouetté en tournant and the splits. He had worked on him. Even gave him her dance secrets and she was rewarded with deceit. He became a pro and she an amateur. Now Peter had put the final nail.
She did not have the courage to confront him. She had taken enough of his ridicule. She knew how she could teach him the lesson of a lifetime. It was only in the studio. She would defeat him. She will.