Chapter 32

dani zipped her last suitcase and exhaled. she was going back to la. obviously not to visit the girls she missed so dearly, she just happened to see an opening at a dance studio near the katseye rehearsal studio. that’d be interesting, she’d thought, so she signed up to be a dance coach.

the contract had been easy enough to sign, the kind of easy that almost felt suspicious, like something important had been skipped over or left unsaid, but no one had asked questions and dani hadn’t offered any, because it was simpler that way, simpler to let them see her as just another instructor with experience instead of someone who had walked away from something bigger, something louder, something that still clung to her no matter how far she tried to put between it and herself.

the studio didn’t care who she used to be, only that she could teach, that she could correct posture with a glance and timing with a single word, that she could keep a room moving without letting it fall apart, and that part still belonged to her.

everything else didn’t.

the first morning back in la, the air felt the same in a way that made her chest tighten before she could stop it, warm and dry and filled with a kind of familiarity she hadn’t realized she’d memorized until she stepped back into it, like the city had been waiting for her without actually noticing she was gone.

dani stepped out of the car and stood there for a second longer than necessary, her bag hanging from her shoulder, fingers curled tightly around the strap as her eyes lifted without permission and landed across the street.

the rehearsal studio.

it was closer than she remembered. or maybe she had just forgotten what distance felt like. her jaw tightened, something small and sharp pressing under her ribs as she forced her gaze away, turning toward the building she was actually supposed to enter, reminding herself—quietly, firmly—that this was different now, that she wasn’t going back, that proximity didn’t mean anything unless she let it.

inside, the studio was quieter than she expected, the kind of quiet that wasn’t empty but wasn’t full either, soft conversations layered under the faint squeak of sneakers against polished floors, the mirrors stretching wide across the walls reflecting movement that didn’t include her. no one looked at her twice.

and for a second, that stung more than it should have. “you’re the new instructor, right?”

dani turned, nodding once. “yeah.”

“studio three,” the girl said, already glancing back down at her clipboard. “they’re warming up.”

dani murmured a thanks and made her way down the hallway, each step measured, steady, controlled, like if she moved too fast something might catch up to her.

studio three. right. she reached the door and paused, her hand resting against the handle for just a second longer than necessary, her reflection faintly visible in the small glass panel, distorted just enough to feel unfamiliar.

then she pushed it open. music spilled out immediately, low and rhythmic, filling the space before she even fully stepped inside, her senses adjusting a second too slow. as she set her bag down,

“DANI?!”

the scream cut through everything. sharp. loud. unmistakable. dani froze. her head snapped toward the source, heart stuttering in her chest as she processed the voice before she even saw her— yoonchae.

standing in the middle of the room, eyes wide, hands halfway lifted like she didn’t know whether to run forward or stay where she was. for a second, no one else moved. then everything happened at once.

“wait—what—”

“is that dani from katseye?”

“holy shit, is she our instructor—”

chairs scraped, music faltered, conversations cut off mid-sentence as all eyes turned toward the door, toward her, toward the person who wasn’t supposed to be there and somehow was. dani’s grip tightened around her bag strap.

“…hi,” she managed.

it came out quieter than she meant it to. yoonchae didn’t hesitate. she crossed the room in seconds, closing the distance before dani could even process what was happening, her arms wrapping around her so suddenly, so tightly, that dani staggered back a step just to keep her balance.

“you’re here,” yoonchae said, voice breaking in a way that made something twist deep in dani’s chest. “you’re actually here—why are you here—no, wait, i don’t care, you’re here—”

dani let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her hands hovering awkwardly for a second before settling against yoonchae’s back, hesitant, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to return it. “…i’m working,” she said finally, the words feeling strange even as she said them. “i got hired here.”

yoonchae pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes scanning her face like she was checking for something, like she was making sure this was real.

“you’re serious?”

dani gave a small nod.

“yeah.”

the room was still watching. whispering now. quiet, but not quiet enough. and dani could feel it: every stare, every question, every piece of recognition starting to click into place. this wasn’t neutral anymore.this wasn’t anonymous. this was visible.

“does—” yoonchae started, then stopped, her voice dropping slightly. “does the girls know you’re here?”

dani shook her head.

“do, yoonchae, not does. and no.”

a beat.

yoonchae’s expression shifted.

not excitement. not confusion. something more complicated.

“…they’re rehearsing,” she said carefully.

dani’s stomach dropped.

she didn’t need to ask who.

the music from across the street started again, faint but unmistakable through the walls, the counts lining up too perfectly with memory, with muscle, with everything she had tried not to carry with her.

of course they were. of course it would be now.

yoonchae glanced toward the door, then back at dani.

“do you…” she hesitated. “do you want to—”

“no.” too fast. too immediate.

dani forced her expression to steady. “…i’m just here to teach,” she said, quieter now.

like if she said it enough times, it would stay true.

yoonchae didn’t look convinced. but she nodded anyway.

“…okay.”

another beat passed. footsteps in the hallway. louder than before. closer. a laugh echoed from the hallway. one she knew too well.

dani’s heart stuttered again, her body going still in a way she couldn’t control as the sound approached, as voices filtered in faintly from outside, familiar enough to make her chest tighten before she could even make out the words. yoonchae’s eyes flicked toward the door. then back to dani.

“…they’re coming,” she whispered.

a/n oh shit

idk what to write guys plz suggestions