My name is Caleb Dean, I'm 23 years old, and this is my story.
I'm a dance choreographer and music teacher. I live in New York City with my mom and my older brother, John Dean, who happens to be the CEO of our family company. My dad, on the other hand, is rarely around, we see him once or twice a year at best. Still, Mom never stopped loving him. I've always wondered how she does it.
My girlfriend's name is Sarah Thompson. Her mother is from Hong Kong and her father from Malibu, giving her a striking mix of elegance and fire. She has a slender, toned frame, an oval face, and brown eyes that hold a quiet determination. But what first drew me to her wasn't her beauty, it was the way she danced. Sarah is 22 years old, a professional ballet dancer, and every movement she makes feels like poetry in motion.
I often help her practice when her dance partner isn't available, though most of my time is spent choreographing routines for musicians or training my own students. Teaching them about rhythm, tempo, and pitch is just as important as showing them the physical moves, it's all part of building an artist.
I had just returned from a two-week training session in Boston when I noticed Sarah hadn't picked up any of my calls. She was supposed to meet me at the airport, but she never showed up. A little worried, I took a cab home, only to find her crying. My heart lurched as I rushed to her side.
"What happened? Why are you crying?" I asked, pulling her close.
"My dance partner is sick," she sobbed. "And the concert is only three weeks away. To make things worse, my choreographer just changed some of the routines."
I sighed softly. "Oh, love... is that really worth crying over?"
Her eyes flashed. "Of course it is! This is one of the most important performances of my life, and now everything is falling apart."
I wiped her tears and whispered, "Then let me help you. I'll practice with you until the concert."
Her whole face lit up. "Really? You'll do that for me?"
"Anything for you."
She hugged me tight and pressed a kiss to my forehead, something she had never done in the year we'd been together. I blushed so hard I thought my face might catch fire. She smelled faintly of peach, and for a moment, the world felt right again.
The first week of training with her was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. Ballet was demanding in ways modern dance wasn't, every step required precision, balance, and strength. Sarah pushed herself relentlessly, often whining when things didn't go her way, but I didn't mind.
After practice, she had a ritual: climbing up to the studio rooftop to meditate. The first time she asked me to join, I refused. The wall was narrow, and the idea of sitting on it terrified me. She only laughed, her laughter like music. "It's not as thin as you think, Caleb."
By the fourth day, I gave in. Sitting there, with the cool night air brushing against my face, the sounds of the city below, and Sarah's calm profile bathed in moonlight, I realized meditation wasn't scary at all, it was beautiful. From then on, we meditated together every night, side by side under the New York skyline.
One afternoon, I decided to stop by my brother's office before heading to Sarah's studio. I hadn't seen John in days, and I missed him.
"Well, look who's here," he teased the moment I stepped in. "Finally decided to join the company?"
I rolled my eyes. "No, brother. I just came to see you."
"Strange. You're never home, always exhausted or gone. What have you been working on?"
"Helping Sarah. Her partner's sick, so I stepped in." I couldn't help but blush at the mention of her name.
John's smile faded. "Caleb... Don't you see? She's using you. That girl doesn't love you. She loves the comfort you give her. The way she looks at her dance partner? She's never looked at you like that."
My chest tightened. "Brother, stop. Don't talk about her like that. She's my girlfriend."
"Caleb, that girl—"
I cut him off. "Enough. If you talk about her again, I won't talk to you anymore."
John sighed and raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, I'm sorry. I won't bring her up again. How's practice going? Ballet must be very different from modern dance."
Relieved, I sank into his soft office chair. "It is. Ballet focuses a lot more on the lower body, repetition, strength, balance. Modern dance blends upper and lower body movements. Both are challenging, but ballet is... new."
"And meditating on rooftops?" John raised a brow when I told him.
"It's safe, I promise. We're careful."
"Just be careful, Caleb," he said firmly.
Before I left, he handed me a sleek black credit card. "I've been meaning to give you this for a few days now."
I lit up. "What's the limit?"
"No limit."
We hugged before I left, feeling warm and grateful.
But when I got to the studio, Sarah was furious. "You're late!" she snapped the second I walked in.
I raised my hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, I went to see my brother. He was worried about me. But hey, he gave me a credit card."
Her pout softened into a grin. "Fine. But you're buying me dinner after practice."
I smiled. "Deal."