Chapter 2

I found Patrick backstage after the performance.

He had just changed out of his costume. Fern was sitting at the makeup mirror taking off her makeup, and their mother was bending down to swap out her high heels.

Patrick set a glass of warm water beside her, and when Fern lifted her foot, he steadied her without even thinking about it.

The three of them moved so easily, it was as if this scene had played out many times before.

"How long has it been?" I asked.

Patrick came over and tried to push my wheelchair. "Elise, let's talk about it at home."

I knocked his hand away and kept my eyes on Fern.

She lowered her head. "Twelve weeks."

Three months ago, Patrick told me the dance company was swamped with a new project, and he slept at the rehearsal hall for two weeks straight.

I even brought him clothes twice.

Once, Fern came out to open the door wearing his coat, and I just assumed the air conditioning in the rehearsal hall was too cold.

"When did the two of you start?"

Patrick finally looked uncomfortable. "It wasn't what you're thinking, not at the beginning."

But it was our mother who frowned first. "Fern just finished performing, and her pregnancy isn't stable. Do you really have to ask about this now?"

"She's carrying my husband's child. When exactly am I supposed to ask?"

Fern started crying. "Elise, I'm sorry. At first it really was just rehearsing together, but then my leg injury flared up again, and Patrick took care of me..."

"Then why did you announce in front of everyone today that the baby has no name to claim?"

She bit her lip. "I never forced you to divorce him. I just can't let my child grow up never even allowed to say who its own father is."

When she was done, she instinctively glanced at Patrick.

I let out a small laugh.

"Your leg injury? Fern, do you know why my leg is ruined?"

She went quiet.

Patrick frowned. "Elise, stop dragging up things from ten years ago."

My head snapped toward him.

The night I fell down that staircase, he was the one who carried me into the ambulance.

When the doctor said I would never dance again, he was the one who crouched in the hospital stairwell and cried with me all night.

Later, when the old pelvic injury got worse and the doctor told me pregnancy would be very risky, Patrick held me and said it was fine, that the two of us could spend a whole lifetime together.

"So?" I asked. "She pushed me down the stairs, took my spot, and now she's pregnant with your child. What are you planning to do?"

Patrick was silent for a moment. "The baby is innocent."

Our mother jumped in. "What else can he do? You can't expect her to get rid of it. Besides, you know your own condition perfectly well. Patrick wanting a child isn't asking too much."

I stared at her.

That high-risk pregnancy diagnosis, she was the one who went with me to pick it up.

"Mom, have you forgotten why my body is like this?"

She looked away from me.

I turned back to Patrick. "Let's get a divorce."

His head shot up. "I don't want to divorce you. I'll take responsibility for the child, but our marriage won't change."

I almost thought I'd misheard him.

Patrick got a little irritated under my stare and reached up to rub his brow. "After your accident, I stopped for a long time too. Then, when I started rehearsing a duet with Fern again, I felt like life had gone back to normal a little."

The words were barely out before he stopped himself.

"Normal?"

I asked.

He didn't answer.

I lowered my head and looked at my right knee.

Ten years ago, Fern made it so I could never dance with him again.

Ten years later, he fell in love with her because she still could.