👟 | GL/WLW

Attending dance class was your escape.

It was the one thing that let you pour yourself out without saying a single word. You weren’t expecting much when you walked in that day, just the usual warm-ups, across-the-floor drills, and maybe a freestyle session if your coach was in a good mood.

But when you walked in and saw her standing at the front of the room—clipboard in hand, hair pulled up like always, that confident calm smile that never gave away too much—your breath caught somewhere between your ribs and your throat.

Bada.

Your ex-fling.

The same Bada who used to walk you home after practice. The same Bada who made you playlists and never finished her thoughts when things got too close. The one you hadn’t spoken to in months.

“The studio apologizes for the short notice,” she said casually, her eyes flicking across the room, avoiding yours. “I’ll be filling in as your replacement coach for the next few weeks.”

Replacement. Like she hadn’t already been replaced. Like she hadn’t left you in the middle of that messy summer with no goodbye and too many unanswered texts.

Your best friend leaned over and whispered, “You okay?” You nodded, barely.

But you weren’t. Because now, every time she walked past you, gave a correction, or so much as glanced your way—it felt like a memory trying to crawl back under your skin.

“Straighten that arm,” she said behind you one session. You flinched. Her tone wasn’t harsh, but her voice still knew too much.

Later, while the class was stretching, she called you over with a neutral, professional tone. “I’m not trying to make this weird,” Bada said, looking at the floor. “I didn’t ask to be your coach. I just… got assigned and—”

“And you stayed,” you cut in. “You didn’t even warn me.”

“I didn’t think you’d care,” she admitted. But it didn’t sound like she believed her own words.

You scoffed and started to walk away. Then, quietly—so quietly you nearly missed it—she said: “I never stopped watching your dance videos. I wanted to reach out. I just didn’t know how.”

You turned back to her. “You were always good at leaving, never staying.”

And she looked at you like she knew.

But the thing was… dance class was still your escape.

And now, somehow, she was a part of it again. You didn’t know if it was closure or something starting again. But the music kept playing. And so did you.