Ridley\u2019s POV\u00a0<\/p>\n
The digital clock on my dashboard read 6:30 PM as I pulled into the parking lot of the Harris Theater for Music and Dance. The evening sun cast long shadows across the elegant brick building.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019re cutting it close,\u201d I said to Aiden, who sat in the back seat straightening his tie with methodical precision.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cSeven minutes until the performance begins,\u201d he confirmed without checking a watch. Aiden had an uncanny sense of time. \u201cFactoring in\u2018 walking time and finding our seats, we\u2019ll have approximately three minutes to spare.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
I smiled faintly at his calculation. \u201cThen we\u2019d better hurry.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
Aria was my youngest child, and from the beginning, she was different. The signs of autism were subtle at first, but by the time she\u00a0<\/p>\n
turned three, they became impossible to ignore\u2013she withdrew deeper into silence, struggling with even the simplest interactions. That\u2019s\u00a0<\/p>\n
when I noticed something remarkable: whenever music played, she would move with an instinctive grace that seemed to unlock something\u00a0<\/p>\n
within her.\u00a0<\/p>\n
After consulting with child psychologists, I learned that combining therapeutic approaches with artistic expression could be incredibly\u00a0<\/p>\n
effective for children like Aria. Dance became her language when words failed her.\u00a0<\/p>\n
That\u2019s when Daisy offered to work with her psychologist and teach her dancing. I watched carefully\u2013Aria accepted Daisy, and even seemed\u00a0<\/p>\n
to depend on her. For Aria\u2019s stability, I agreed to let the arrangement continue.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Daisy greeted us at the entrance. \u201cRidley, Aiden! You made it just in time. I was beginning to worry.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cBoard meeting ran late,\u201d I explained, handing her our tickets. \u201cHow is she today?\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cFocused, Daisy replied with the professional confidence. \u201cShe\u2019s been practicing her solo all week. I think you\u2019ll be moved by her\u00a0<\/p>\n
progress.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
She led us through the corridor toward the performance hall, her heels clicking rhythmically against the marble floor. \u201cThe seats 1\u00a0<\/p>\n
reserved for you are in the third row, center. Perfect view.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
Once seated, Aiden leaned toward me. \u201cDad, can Aria practice at home instead after this show? Maybe she could come back to live with\u00a0<\/p>\n
us.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
I studied my son\u2019s carefully neutral expression, recognizing the concern beneath it. He\u2019d been asking variations of this question since Aria had moved to the conservatory\u2019s residential program.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cThe structure here is what\u2019s helping her,\u201d I explained quietly as the lights began to dim. \u201cThe ballet is helping her cognitive development.\u00a0<\/p>\n
When she was home, she was more withdrawn, remember?\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
9:44 Thu, Nov 6 G\u00a0<\/p>\n
Chapter 63\u00a0<\/p>\n
Aiden nodded reluctantly, but I could see he remained unconvinced.\u00a0<\/p>\n
17\u00a0<\/p>\n
The curtain rose, revealing a stage transformed into a woodland scene. Young dancers in pale blue costumes moved in careful formation. Then Aria appeared, a small solitary figure in white. Her movements were precise, controlled, yet somehow ethereal. Where the other children performed the choreography, Aria seemed to inhabit it.\u00a0<\/p>\n
When the performance ended, the applause thundered through the hall. Aria stood center stage, her expression unchanged by the recognition, her eyes fixed on some middle distance only she could see.\u00a0<\/p>\n
96\u00a0<\/p>\n
Backstage, we found her sitting alone, methodically removing her ballet slippers. She acknowledged our presence with a slight tilt of her head but continued her task without interruption.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cShe was extraordinary,\u201d I said to Daisy, who stood nearby watching with evident pride.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cHer progress has been remarkable,\u201d Daisy agreed, then lowered her voice. \u201cI know you only have limited visitation time in the dance studio. My apartment is just two blocks away\u2013perhaps you\u2019d like to come over? Give Aria some time to decompress in a quieter\u00a0<\/p>\n
environment before you leave?\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
I hesitated, glancing at my watch. It was already 9:00 PM, but Aiden was watching Aria with such concern that I found myself nodding.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay,\u201d I said.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Daisy\u2019s apartment was exactly what I\u2019d expected\u2013minimalist with strategic artistic elements, the kind of space featured in architectural digests. Floor\u2013to\u2013ceiling windows offered views of Lake Michigan, the water darkening with the approaching night.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cAria, why don\u2019t you show Aiden your special collection?\u201d Daisy suggested, gesturing toward what appeared to be a small studio space. As the children disappeared into the adjoining room, she turned to me with a smile. \u201cYou must be exhausted. Let me get you something to\u00a0<\/p>\n
drink.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cJust water, thank you,\u201d I replied, moving to examine a series of black and white photographs on her wall\u2013dancers in various poses, their bodies creating impossible geometries against stark backgrounds.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cThese are remarkable,\u201d I commented as she returned with a tumbler.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cThank you. Photography is my second passion.\u201d She handed me the water, our fingers brushing in a way that seemed deliberate. \u201cI took those during my final season with the Chicago Ballet Company, before the injury.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
I nodded, raising the glass to my lips. A movement caught my eye\u2013Aria had emerged from the studio and was standing in the hallway, watching us with unusual intensity. Her eyes were fixed on the glass in my hand.\u00a0<\/p>\n
What happened next occurred with startling speed. Aria crossed the room in several quick steps and, with a deliberate motion, knocked the water glass from my hand. It shattered against the hardwood floor, water spreading in a dark stain across the expensive finish.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cAria!\u201d Daisy\u2019s voice was sharp with surprise and anger. \u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
Chapter 63\u00a0<\/p>\n
My daughter stood perfectly still, her eyes now focused on the broken glass. Aiden had appeared in the doorway, watching the scene with\u00a0<\/p>\n
careful attention.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cAria,\u201d I said, keeping my voice measured. \u201cI need you to explain why you did that.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
Daisy stepped between us, her composure visibly shaken. \u201cShe\u2019s overstimulated from the performance. Children on the spectrum\u00a0<\/p>\n
sometimes act out when-\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cMiss Black,\u201d I interrupted calmly, \u201cI\u2019d like to hear from my daughter.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s non\u2013verbal today,\u201d Daisy said quickly. \u201cI can see the signs. This is just sensory overload. Let me handle it-\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cStep aside,\u201d I said, the steel in my voice unmistakable.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Daisy hesitated, then moved away, crouching to begin collecting shards of broken glass. I knelt to Aria\u2019s eye level, waiting patiently as she\u00a0<\/p>\n
processed whatever was happening in her mind.\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cAria,\u201d I said softly. \u201cCan you tell me why you knocked over the glass?\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The Sky Remembered the Touch of Our Unfinished Goodbyes by Lysa Orion Rehn 63 Ridley\u2019s POV\u00a0 The digital clock on […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"default","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"footnotes":""},"categories":[88],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-30462","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-zero-stars-for-daddy-novel"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/30462","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=30462"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/30462\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=30462"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=30462"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kezpres.xyz\/novelreading\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=30462"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}