𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗩𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗢 𝗛𝗔𝗦 𝗕𝗘𝗘𝗡 𝗨𝗣𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗗

𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗢𝗚𝗨𝗘

❛  THE PLOTWISTS ARE EXCLUSIVE TO JULY ❜

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July 23th, 2010.

Darkness had already taken over much of the sky. The city was not known for being hot, but the weather was still cool despite being in the summer. What's more, the Spellmans had to load some coats in their car so they wouldn't have to face the changing weather once they returned from young Diana's presentation.

"Diana, darling." Lorraine, her mother, reprimanded her as they made their way to the red car that was belonging to the family. "Warm up, we don't want you to get sick."

The family matriarch endeavored to speak softly, her daughter was not in the mood that night. She concentrated on her task and only finished it after her mother's second request. Even though the brunette was obedient, she would not act when she was upset. She covered that ballet costume with a jean jacket, closing the zipper to hide her body a little.

"Your father couldn't make it because of work. You know how flights from London are, there can be last-minute delays."

The eldest Spellman would look up at her mother, only to frown. She hated excuses, and the her mother lived making them when it was about her father's mistakes.

"Mom, let it go." Elliot, the youngest, said, shaking his head to indicate that it was not the best way to deal with the situation. He knew his sister, she would do nothing but get an inappropriate response from her.

Silence reigned on the way home. Lorraine at the wheel; Elliot in the passenger seat, checking his iPhone without even blinking, and Diana, listening to some romantic song by Taylor Swift.

For Diana, it was difficult to be "daddy's girl" when her father was absent. She had been rehearsing for weeks, months perhaps, for that ballet recital. Since she was little, she had attended that academy, and they had finally given her a solo act in one of her favorite works: Swan Lake. But Declan was a doctor with a reputation in oncology research and, from time to time, he had to travel to the capital to give lectures on one of the studies he was working on. Diana was able to understand the importance of these actions; She was not a capricious young woman, much less a girl without understanding. She was already a teenager, in just a few days she would turn fifteen.

But that didn't take away the feeling of disappointment.

Whenever Diana was fulfilling an important goal for her, her father was in a hospital, on a trip, somewhere else, anywhere but home. "You know, wherever I am, I'm proud of you," he used to tell her whenever she knew he wouldn't be there. She didn't miss the opportunity to respond: "but I would like you to be proud of me here." And he laughed tenderly, thinking it was just a joke.

It wasn't.

As soon as they arrived home, Diana unbuckled her seat belt before the engine stopped completely. She pulled the handle and headed out the door. Her pace was hurried, she didn't feel like having a talk with her mother about how to cope with disappointments. She ran up the stairs, and closed the door to her room with a sharp slam. Diana could only think of all the sessions she had been rehearsing. The number of times she had said no to her friends' plans to go to the classes; She even had extra sessions to have more hours on the dance floor. It's just that she always felt the overwhelming need to show her father everything she was capable of doing, even though she knew she could never go as far with something as he did. There were nights when she even dreamed about the order of the steps she should take. And that was what hurt her, so much effort wasted.