I Love A Guy, But He's 15 Years Older

Ginger immediately put on this helpless, pitiful look. “Lee, I just wanted to persuade Darcey to admit her mistake and stop being so stubborn.”

I turned to him, hopeful that he’d see through her act and understand the truth. But he just let out a sigh. “Darcey, let’s end this here.”

That sentence shattered me completely.

So, in his eyes, I really was just an ungrateful plagiarist.

“Fine. Let’s end it here.” I nodded, my voice bitter, strained. “Enjoy your meal. I’ve got things to do.”

I turned around and headed upstairs, locking myself in my room again. The moment I hit the bed, the tears came uncontrollably.

Turns out, the worst part isn’t being falsely accused. It’s not the insults from strangers online. It’s being misunderstood by the one person you trusted the most.

The one who promised to protect me—always—now chose silence.

I opened my laptop, searching for flights. The soonest, the fastest.

If there’s no place for me here, then why stay?

Suddenly, my phone rang. It was Aunt Petunia.

“Darcey, I saw the news,” she said, her voice filled with concern. “Sweetie, are you okay?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Auntie, I want to leave early.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Your passport and visa are ready. When do you want to go?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Alright. I’ll book the ticket now.” She paused. “You don’t need to explain anything, sweetie. I understand. Some things… time will prove.”

After the call, I started packing. There wasn’t much I wanted to take. The ballet dancing supplies I’d collected over the years? I didn’t even want to take them. They were loaded with memories I couldn’t bear to relive.

Halfway through packing, I noticed my notebook was gone—the one where I’d sketched out the entire process of my choreography, from the first idea to the final steps. It was the only proof I had of my innocence.

I tore through the room, checking every corner, but it was nowhere. And then, a chilling thought hit me. ‘Had Ginger stolen it?’

But honestly, what did it matter now? Even if I found it, what would it change?

Late at night, I heard Ulysses and Ginger talking downstairs.

They were chatting about wedding plans, decorating their new villa, and their future together. Their voices floated through the floor like a dull knife, repeatedly twisting and tearing at my heart.

I stood by the window, staring at the roses blooming in the yard.

There was a time when I also pictured myself beside Ulysses. A different version of us, a different future. But now, even the simplest thing—trust—is gone. What was left to hold on to?

It’s better to leave now. While they’re still wrapped up in their happy little bubble. I’ll take whatever dignity I have left, pack up my broken dreams, and slip away quietly from this place that’s hurt me so much.

At least at Royal Ballet School, I can start fresh. No one there knows my past. No one will judge me. I can create something new and better and finally prove myself.

This time, I’ll keep everything—every shred of evidence—safe. No one will ever get the chance to take me down again.

After I hung up with my aunt, I found myself sitting in the rehearsal room, staring blankly.

This space held so many pieces of me.

The photos on the wall? They captured every milestone. The trophies in the corner? Proof of how far I’d come. And the costumes in the closet? Each one carried a memory.

I walked to the mirror and stared at my reflection.

My black training outfit is faded now. It used to be my favorite. I still remember the day I bought it—Ulysses was there with me, helping me pick it out.