Dance for me

CHP5: DID I FALL FOR A LIE ?

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"You are so selfish even after breaking my heart you keep coming back just to make sure I don't recover
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Getting up early in the morning, as always, Jimin rushed to the shower, feeling the warm cascade of water run down his body, a soothing contrast to the bruises he still wore like badges of a turbulent past.

Stepping out of the shower, droplets clung to his skin like glistening reminders of resilience.

Jimin confronted his reflection in the foggy mirror, studying the purple mark around his eyes, a testament to nights haunted by shadows.

With a deep breath, he carefully tended to his injuries, the familiar ritual a blend of self-care and defiance against the remnants of a painful history.

His fingers traced the edges of the bruises, as if trying to erase the memories etched onto his skin.

Walking outside, a gentle morning breeze brushed against his face, carrying whispers of renewal.

Each step he took resonated with determination as he made his way to the dance studio.

The door creaked open, revealing a space that had witnessed both vulnerability and triumph.

The polished wooden floors awaited the cadence of Jimin's steps.

Entering the studio, a sanctuary in the early hours, the air was thick with the scent of dedication and passion.

The mirrors reflected an empty canvas, waiting to capture the grace and emotion that Jimin poured into his dance.

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow on the room, a silent witness to the catharsis that unfolded within.

As the music began to play, Jimin surrendered to the rhythm, his body moving with the precision of a seasoned dancer.

Every leap, every pirouette, told a story of resilience, a narrative written in the language of movement.

Sweat glistened on his skin, a testament to the intensity of his efforts, and each controlled breath carried the weight of both struggle and liberation.

Hours passed in a symphony of motion, and as Jimin's body pulsated with vitality, he found himself redefined through the dance.

The studio became a cocoon of metamorphosis, where pain and joy intertwined, and the echoes of his footsteps reverberated with a newfound strength.

Exiting the studio, the morning sun bathed him in a golden glow.

The gentle breeze, now a companion on his journey, seemed to carry a different energy.

The world outside held uncertainties, but for now, in the aftermath of his dance, Jimin stood resilient, a mosaic of healing in the quiet embrace of the morning light.

....

Walking towards the psychology hospital, he felt his head spin, licking his dry lips as he continued, refusing to sit or even rest.

Entering, everyone's gaze fell on him. "Oh, Jesus, you're fucking pale, Jimin," his friend Mark remarked, watching Jimin slump into a chair.

"I'm fine," Jimin remarked weakly, trying to shake off the pounding sensation in his head.

"He hit you again, didn't he?" Mark questioned, concern evident in his tone.

"No, I just tripped," Jimin insisted, avoiding the truth.