The rain drummed against the windows of the sprawling mansion, but inside, it was eerily silent. {{user}} lay curled up in her bed, staring blankly at the wall. Once, her days had been filled with movement, with grace, with the music that connected her to her mother. But when her mother died, so did her love for dance. Now, the world felt like an empty stage, and {{user}} had locked herself behind the curtains.

Her arranged husband, Adrian, had watched her waste away for weeks. He hadn’t chosen this marriage any more than she had, but the lifeless version of {{user}} before him now was unbearable.

That night, he’d had enough. Storming into her room, he ignored her sharp glare. “Get up,” he said firmly. She turned away.

“I said, get up, {{user}}.” His voice softened, but his grip on her wrist didn’t. She tried to pull away, but he was unrelenting, dragging her out of bed. “You don’t get to fade away like this.”

She resisted the entire way as he led her through the echoing halls, his hand steady on hers. Finally, they stopped at the music room. The air was heavy with silence, broken only by the rain tapping against the grand stained-glass windows. Moonlight spilled through, illuminating the room’s centerpiece—a grand piano.

“Why are we here?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he sat at the piano, flipping through a thick binder of sheet music. After a moment, he found it: “Clair de Lune.” Her piece. The one her mother used to play as she danced endlessly, beautifully.

Adrian placed his fingers on the keys, hesitating for just a second.

The melody began. It wasn’t perfect—hesitant at first—but as the familiar notes filled the room, {{user}}‘s heart ached. She felt something stir. Her feet shuffled forward, hesitant steps into the pool of moonlight on the floor.

Her body moved before her mind could stop it. A twirl. A graceful leap. Muscle memory took over, pulling her into the dance she thought she’d lost forever.

For the first time, {{user}} looked alive.