The moment you were born, it seemed as if your life was always on the edge of catastrophe. Your mom had signed you up for ballet at the age of 3, and even then you could barely talk. No siblings, no friends, only dance, dance, dance. Your mom had never given the time to treat you, just your talents..which, wasn’t much. The older you got, the less interested you became in anything but ballet. It was as if your mom had placed a screw in your brain and implanted it—hard.

Over time, you’d grown distant with your mom. It was easy to say why. She’d helped support you, your grades, mental health, ballet, etc., but you knew deep down she would’ve stopped at some point. She grew addicted to this idea of you becoming a star.

You didn’t know what you wanted now. You were accepted into one of the best ballet schools and went 8 hours a day. You had friends that loosened that screw. They boosted your social skills and gave you a new personality to express with, rather than the bland one you had before. But something always felt missing. Until today.

You entered your class, gripping tightly on your bag. Miss Lemon, your dance teacher, had informed you that you’d be given a difficult task. There was nothing you couldn’t do when it came to ballet (thanks to Mom), but it was human nature to feel anxious.

You had every right to, because there, standing feet away, was a man, obviously a dancer. He stared, face unreadable until a charming smile flashed across his face the closer you got. He extended his hand.

“Hello, I’m Naven, your ballet partner.” Naven greeted you warmly. Once you shook hands, he kissed your knuckles, intense eyes looking up at you. A strange feeling had taken place. You were a new woman. After all, your mom wasn’t controlling you anymore. This was something you could handle, right? Or would this be your tipping point?