That evening, around 8:30 in New York City—a metropolis famed for its urban parks, subways, Broadway shows, commuter rail, shopping, sports teams, and skyline, also nicknamed The Big Apple—Abby and Alex were spotted exiting LaGuardia Airport, having just arrived.
"We've finally arrived in New York. This is where we'll rehearse for The View and the competition," Alex declared. "I always enjoy coming here, Miss Abby."
"I'm aware of that," Abby replied. "The competition is in Bernardsville, New Jersey, known as the Masters Of Dance Arts. It's our debut at this competition, and we'll begin rehearsals at Stepping Out Studios on Monday."
"And which hotel are we staying at?" inquired Alex.
"We're booked at the New York Marriott Marquis. The girls and their moms will join us later tonight, and we'll be sharing a room," explained Abby.
"Sounds good to me," Alex agreed.
"Let's make our way to the hotel now," suggested Abby.
They located a taxi van, loaded their luggage, and climbed aboard.
"Where to?" asked the taxi driver.
"The New York Marriott Marquis, please," Alex requested..
"Sure thing," said the taxi driver as he began the drive to the hotel. Forty-eight minutes later, hindered by traffic, they arrived at the New York Marriott Marquis. After the taxi came to a halt, Abby paid the driver, and she and Alex exited the vehicle to retrieve their luggage from the back before entering the hotel. Abby approached the front desk while Alex took in the grandeur of the lobby.
"Our hotel rooms are on the 45th floor," Abby informed him.
"Thanks for letting me know," Alex replied.
With a nod, Abby led the way to the elevator, which whisked them to the 45th floor. They stepped off and made their way to their room. Abby used the card key to unlock the door, and they entered.
The suite was impressive, spanning 811 square feet. It boasted a bedroom with a king-sized bed, desks, lamps, a closet, and a flat-screen TV. The bathroom featured a sink, tub, and shower, with another closet near the entrance. Additionally, there was a dining room and a living room equipped with a sofa bed, a U-shaped sofa, a desk, a lamp, and another flat-screen TV, all complemented by a stunning view of Times Square.
"What do you think?" Abby asked.
"It's wonderful," Alex exclaimed. "I'll sleep on the sofa bed."
"I was just going to suggest that. Good thinking," Abby agreed.
"Gianna texted me; she said they're boarding a flight now, but they'll be landing at JFK instead of LaGuardia," Abby shared.
"Alright, I'm going to watch some TV," Alex said, and Abby nodded in acknowledgment.
Alex settled onto the L-shaped sofa, switched on the TV, and tuned into the MSG network to catch up on New York sports.
"I'll start unpacking. Whenever you're ready, you can store your clothes in the closet by the door," Abby suggested, moving towards the bedroom to organize her own wardrobe. An hour into his TV session, Alex noticed Abby's audible sigh. Concerned, he headed to the bedroom and immediately sensed her unease about something.
"Miss Abby, I've noticed you seem a bit on edge. Is everything okay?" Alex asked, concern evident in his voice.
"Could you sit beside me?" Abby requested.
His expression one of confusion, Alex approached and sat next to his dance teacher on the bed.
"I asked you here because there's something I need to tell you," Abby explained.
"What's happening?" Alex inquired, puzzled.
"Alex..." Abby paused, searching for the right words. "Remember how Kayla brought you to the studio and has raised you from birth?"
Alex nodded, curious about where this was leading.
"She called me a few weeks ago, asking me to tell you that, despite her gratitude for having you in her life, she isn't your biological mother."
The revelation left the ten-year-old boy stunned and speechless; the woman who had raised him wasn't his real mother, and he struggled to process this new reality.
"If she's not my mother, even though she raised me, then who is my real mother?" he asked.
Abby inhaled deeply, knowing it was now or never. She pulled out a photograph that Kayla had given her not too long ago. On the back, Alex's name was written, along with his birth date. Handing it to Alex, he first examined the back before flipping it over.
The photo was taken at Mount-Sinai Hospital in Miami Beach on the day of his birth, which explained the date on the back. As Alex peered closer, he was stunned by the person cradling him.
"No way...it can't be..." Alex stammered, his hands trembling. In the photo, the person holding him was Abby, lying in a hospital bed, dressed in a gown, with a newborn Alex in her arms, smiling at the camera. Despair tinged Alex's voice as he turned to Abby, tears welling up in his eyes. "Is it true? Are you... my real mom?"
Abby nodded slowly as she revealed the truth about the photograph she had handed to him while holding his hands, aware that Alex's life would be forever altered from that moment forward.
"Alex... it's true, I am your real mother."
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Is My Life A Lie? (Dance Moms Fic)
FanfictionTen-year-old Alexander Andrews, also known as Alex, has spent his entire life dancing at the Abby Lee Dance Company in Miami Beach, Florida. Under the guidance of his dance instructor, Abby Lee Miller, he has learned a great deal. His dedication has...
