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

“This looks perfect on you,” he said, adjusting my collar. “When you’re standing on a big stage someday, you’ve got to wear the most stunning costume.”

I was 13 back then, full of dreams about the future.

I really thought that as long as I worked hard enough, those dreams would come true.

But now? All those hopeful expectations have completely fallen apart.

I started packing my clothes, one piece at a time.

I hesitated when I got to the costume Ginger had accused me of plagiarizing. I stared at it for a long time before deciding to take it.

I’d poured my heart and soul into that design. Even if I couldn’t clear my name right now, I wasn’t going to leave it behind.

Halfway through packing, I suddenly remembered my notebook.

That notebook held everything—the entire process of creating the choreography, from brainstorming to the final touches. Sketches, notes, revisions… everything was in there. If I could find it, maybe I’d still have a chance to prove myself.

I tore through the rehearsal room, searching every corner, then went back to my bedroom to look again.

But no matter where I checked, the notebook was gone.

Right then, Ginger walked in, casually pushing the door open.

“Looking for something?” she asked.

I looked up and met her half-smiling eyes and smirk. And in that instant, I knew.

“You took my notebook, didn’t you?”

“Notebook?” She tilted her head like she was trying to remember. “Oh, you mean that little book full of doodles?”

“Give it back to me,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

She laughed softly. “Sorry, it’s already been taken care of. I mean, what’s the point of keeping a plagiarist’s work, right?”

My hands started shaking. “How could you? That notebook was my blood, sweat, and tears!”

“Your blood, sweat, and tears?” She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Darcey, do you really think you can make a comeback? Even if you had that notebook, who’s going to believe you?”

I stared at her smug face and felt a wave of hopelessness hit me. She wasn’t wrong. In this industry, she had all the connections, all the power. And me? I was just an adopted orphan. Even if I screamed the truth until I lost my voice, who’d take my side?

Then my phone buzzed.

It was an email from Royal Ballet School, reminding me to complete the admission procedures as soon as possible.

Somehow, looking at that familiar logo made me calm down.

Right, I still have Royal Ballet School. I still had a fresh start waiting for me.

“You’re right,” I said, looking her straight in the eye. “Everything here is yours now.”

She obviously didn't expect me to say that and was stunned for a moment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m leaving,” I said simply, turning back to pack. “Leaving this villa. Leaving this city.”

“Leaving?” She let out a laugh. “You think running away will make people forget you’re a plagiarist?”

I stopped packing and looked at her.

“I’m not running. I’m letting go. Letting go of these years of obsession, letting go of feelings I shouldn’t have had, and letting go of the pain you caused.”

Her smile froze. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’ve always been paranoid about me and Ulysses, haven’t you?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Well, don’t worry. You’ll never see me in your life again.”

As soon as I said it, I felt this weight lift off my chest.

Right. If staying here only brought me more pain, why not just let it all go?

I went back to packing, carefully organizing every scrap of evidence that might prove my innocence someday.

Even if it was useless now, the truth would come out eventually.

Ginger opened her mouth to say something else, but before she could, I heard Ulysses’s voice downstairs.

She immediately snapped into her sweet, doting act and ran off to greet him.

I heard her voice drifting up from the stairs.

“Darling, you’re finally back!”