If I Could Dance With You Again

IICDWYA: 46

Chapter 46

The next morning, sunlight slipped weakly through the curtains, illuminating the clutter of books and half-zipped hoodies that littered Soonyoung's floor. He sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, thumb hovering anxiously over Aaliyah's contact. His chest fluttered with the memory of last night's easy laughter, but a new realization had bloomed overnight, persistent and unwelcome: he hadn't actually asked Aaliyah how she felt about him telling his friends.

He stood, then sat again, then stood—restless as a caged bird. What if she was upset? Would she mind that her name, her presence in his life, now lived in the soft glow of Woozi's grin and the pride in Wonwoo's eyes? He replayed the moment, searching for any sign that he'd crossed an invisible line.

Back and forth he paced, his phone growing heavier with every step. He typed a message, erased it, tried again:

Baby, um—can we talk for a sec? I realized I might have gotten a little ahead of myself last night and told the guys about us. I should've checked with you first. I'm really sorry if that wasn't okay.

He hovered, nervous, reading it over and over, wondering if it said enough or too much. The morning felt suspended—just him, the quiet hum of the city waking up, and the hope that when she replied, it would all still feel as right as it had in that car full of understanding and light.

Minutes trickled by, stretching thin and taut. Soonyoung stared at his screen until the lines danced, the silence from Aaliyah a thickening fog. He tried distracting himself—folding hoodies, stacking books, opening the window to let in fresher air—but her absence crowded the room. On impulse, he thumbed her name and pressed "call" before he could talk himself out of it.

The phone rang once, twice, his heart thudding with every pulse of the dial tone. He half-expected it to go to voicemail, and maybe that would've been easier, but then her voice—soft, slightly groggy—answered, "Hello?"

He fumbled for words, suddenly aware of all the things he hadn't rehearsed. "Hey, Aali. Sorry—I know it's early. I just... I sent a text, but I wasn't sure if you'd seen it. I guess I got nervous."

A silence hung between them, not heavy, but fragile. He could hear her shift, the rustle of sheets. "I saw it," she said quietly. "I was just thinking about what to say."

Something in her tone—gentle, not angry—unclenched the knot in his chest ever so slightly. He held his breath, waiting, as sunlight crept further across the floor, golden and tentative.

"It's okay, Soonyoung," she said at last. "I get it. I just needed some time, that's all."

Relief, this time, was quieter—like dawn after a restless night, uncertain but full of possibility.

Aaliyah Brielle

Meeting him and his friends yesterday was already a harm. It was as if I felt that sooner or later we would be busted. And yes, we did. I just received a message from Soonyoung and he told them. He said it was just his three friends, but I know how words spread—like wildfire when you all live under the same roof. I am sure that they will know eventually.

I didn't want to think about it, so I threw myself into my daily routine, letting habit carry me through the morning's uncertainty. I went to work and got busy, diving into emails, phone calls, anything to keep my mind off the ripple that had just been cast through our quiet secret.

Later, at lunch, I was surprised by a bouquet of flowers and a carefully packed lunch waiting on my desk. There was a note tucked into the side, Soonyoung's handwriting looping across the page: "Sorry once again."

I stared at the note for a moment, the apology blooming just as brightly as the petals beside it. Part of me wanted to stay mad, or at least to keep pretending I was unaffected. But the truth was, behind all my bracing and distractions, a part of me softened. Maybe this is what it meant to risk something—to let the truth out, even if it moved beyond our carefully drawn boundaries.

I took a deep breath, letting the scent of the flowers steady me, and for a moment, the world felt a bit less daunting. Maybe we couldn't control how or when people would find out. But I could choose how I carried it—with a little grace, a little forgiveness, and a hope that, in the end, we would still be okay.

Soonyoung always knew my favorites—the kind of small, attentive magic that never failed to disarm me. I savored every bite of lunch, letting the familiar flavors wash away the last vestiges of tension. Afterwards, I gathered my things and slipped back into the studio, ready to finish teaching the dance routine to my eager class. Movement was another kind of refuge, the steps and music weaving their own quiet order into the day.

As the afternoon sun dipped low, painting shadows across polished floors, I felt anticipation flicker in my chest. Later, I would be meeting Ruby for dinner. The thought made me smile—a gentle buoy in the lingering uncertainty. Maybe the world was shifting around us, secrets unspooling and boundaries redrawn, but tonight, for a while, there would be good food, laughter, and the warmth of a friend. And that, I decided, was enough to carry me forward.

"Boss A," it was Jen, one of my staff. She came in my room.

"Yes?" I immediately responded looking at her dull face upon entering my office.

"Crème brulee? For my bothered boss," that's when I realized she was holding a tray of the dessert.

There was something comforting about the way my staff moved through my orbit, attuned to the subtle shifts in my mood. It wasn't just crème brulee appearing in moments of need or the gentle knock of Jen's arrival—it was the unspoken language we'd built up, a kind of quiet solidarity. They knew when to offer a small treat, a word of encouragement, or simply the right amount of space. On days when the world pressed in a little too tightly, they seemed to sense it, orchestrating tiny acts of kindness that pulled me back from the edge of my own worries.

Sometimes, without a word, someone would slip away to call Ruby, knowing she was my anchor outside these walls.

Ruby was calling me frantically.

"Would you want me to pick you up?" she said over the phone. The question put a smile on my face as the tough girl, she is still that sweet, thoughtful and loving friend.

"Na-ah. I am good. I'll be there in an hour," I told her.

"Okay. Be careful and call me when you don't feel good," Ruby said.

"Yeah. Bye!" I said and hanged up.

Then there was another call from her again.

"Girl, you didn't even hear me say bye. So, bye!" then she hanged up. I couldn't even say hi to her.

This was a rare kind of grace, this seamless support, and I never took it for granted. Working and being alongside people who understood me so well made even the hardest days softer, the burdens lighter, and the victories—large or small—sweeter.