"Okay, everyone. We will end class today with our usual reverence." Madame Mary made it very clear that every class would conclude like this. Traditionally, the girls would curtsy to the teacher, while the boys would bow. Some of the kids giggled at the back and I shot them a look. Pretty sure Samantha was one of them.

We all clapped together and the kids moved to collect their belongings. The older kids waved goodbye and slipped out the door, bags slung over their shoulders. Tuesday evening classes were usually quiet and typically ran without any major roadblocks.

That was why they were my favourite to teach. Madame Mary was always around on Tuesdays, another reason why Tuesday classes were my favourite. She came out from the back just as the last kid was picked up by their father. "Bye, Sarah!" Samantha threw over her shoulder, waving ecstatically at me.

With a cane in her hand and shiny heels on her feet, Madame Mary moved around the studio, straightening ballet barres and mumbling to herself in French. That was a tell-tale sign that she had something on her mind.

"Everything alright?" I asked.

"Oui." She paused, tapping her cane against the floor and continuing her trek through the studio. That was code for something being wrong.

"You sure? You can tell me if something is on your mind." Madame Mary was like a mother to me. She taught me ballet and urged me to come on as a teacher at her studio.

"I'm old, child," she said, suddenly coming to a stop in front of the mirror. She ran her fingers through her graying hair as her eyes took on a faraway look. "It's becoming too difficult for me to run this studio."

I moved towards her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I've been meaning to tell you. I can teach more classes since I'm graduating this year." My post-grad studies weren't expected to start until next year, which left me with some time on my hands.

Madame Mary shook her head. "No, Sarah. You don't understand," Madame whispered as she turned around. Her voice had an edge of sadness to it. For the first time, she actually looked tired, like the years of dancing had finally taken a toll on her. "I would like to move back to France."

Blinking, I fought against the lump in my throat. "France? But who will run the studio? The other lady who works with you is a –"

"Bitch? I know," she muttered, shaking her head in disappointment. I took a step back, shocked at her language. Madame looked down upon anyone who swore. It was an unspoken rule to never swear in the studio. "I'm thinking about selling the studio."

"Selling?" It was like a stab to my heart. The studio was my second home. Imagining anything taking the studio's place brought tears to my eyes.

She placed a hand on my shoulder and stared intently into my eyes. "Yes. It would bring me great joy to see the studio go to a good friend." Madame was a recluse who spent her weekends watching old movies. This meant that her friend list was short. "Someone who loves ballet almost as much as I do."

It took me a moment to fully understand what she was implying.  I stepped back from her, surprised but also honoured by her proposition. "I can't possibly take over for you." I waved my hand in front of me. "I also could never afford this place."

She shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "I would be willing to offer you a discount on the studio," she continued. "Knowing that the studio is being managed by you would make me very happy, Sarah." Madame crossed her arms and stood still. She had said what she wanted to say. Now it was my turn to speak.

Buying the studio from Madame wasn't impossible. I had some money saved up from teaching dance. My dad also left me a good amount of money which I would have access to next year, on my 23rd birthday. I could also look into taking up a loan to cover the remainder of the cost.

It shocked me that I was actually considering buying the studio from Madame. Running the studio was a full-time job and would mean putting my plans to study English on hold.

"You don't need to make a decision today," Madame finished. "But please do think about it." With that, she hiked her purse higher up her shoulder. Patting me on my back, she gave me a nod and slipped into the darkness outside. For a few minutes, I just stood there, torn between my love for dance and my passion for the written word.

A tightness squeezed at my chest at the thought of the studio being converted to a coffee shop or a bakery. Sighing, I hit the play button on my phone. Soft music trickled out from the speakers mounted on the walls, easing my worries slightly. Just like that, the music took a hold of me and I was transported through time, back to a time when my greatest concern was having a scrunchie that matched my tutu.

Someone cleared their throat behind me and I came to a startling stop, dropping my arms to my side. Zane stood by the door, hands in his pockets and an easy smile at his lips. My heart fluttered in my chest, recalling the past few days where we shared the same room. Our nights were spent talking about Kat and dissecting the plot of crime shows.

"I thought you weren't going to the gym today," I muttered, trying to slow my beating heart.

"There were two people who really wanted to see you," he said, stepping to the side to reveal his siblings. Lory and Ronald stood behind Zane with wide grins plastered on their faces. Ron ran towards me and wrapped his arms around my legs.

"I missed you so much," Ron gushed, tipping his head back to look at me. "You look like a princess, Sarah!" I laughed. More like the pauper than a princess.

"I missed you too, little man." Tousling his hair, I nodded at Lory who gave me a shy wave. A twisted part of me wished that it was only Zane by the door right now. I quickly pushed thoughts of Zane out of my head and focused on the tiny bag Lory was waving in front of my face. Hitting pause on my phone, I grabbed the bag from Lory's hands.

Cinnamon buns were my new obsession. While Ron and Lory dug through the box of tutus, I inhaled one cinnamon bun, all while Zane stood by and watched. The thought of losing the studio and Zane standing so close by was causing me to stress eat.

"Look, Sarah!" Ron said once he had managed to wiggle into one of the tutus. "I look like you now!" His sister was still digging through the box in search of something her size.

Licking the cinnamon from my lips, I went on my tiptoes and did a spin for him. Ron clapped and tried to imitate my turn but fell forward. His brother caught him before he tumbled to the ground. "Easy there." Zane gave an encouraging smile to Ron. "Try it again."

"Here. Watch me, Ron," Lory declared, pushing her glasses further up her nose. She tried the spin, her converse squeaking against the floor. Proud of herself, she looked down at Ron who jutted out his bottom lip and crossed his arms.

I showed them the turn again, very aware of Zane's eyes following me. A tingling feeling spread across my body and I executed more complicated turns, arms spread out wide in front of me. Showing off was considered taboo among the instructors at the studio but they weren't here right now.

The three siblings were looking at me in awe and I couldn't help but feel proud. "I want to do that," Ron said, tugging at his sister's arm. The two started dancing circles around each other once the music started.

I sat down on one side of the studio and sipped some water. Zane strode towards me and plopped down. Together, we watched his siblings as they tried to figure out the rhythm. It was peaceful, hanging out and listening to music.

"How's everything with Fiona's case?" She had crept up unexpectedly and invaded my life, as a cockroach might do. When doing the dishes, I would find her lipstick stains on the glasses. Fiona also had a propensity to cause chaos, leaving her belongings askew and occasionally breaking things.

The thing that bothered me the most about her was how she acted around Zane. Anything Zane said was apparently "so funny." She would place a hand on his shoulder, throw her head back and let out this nasally laugh at every "joke" her ex would share.

It was driving me insane, mostly because it was painfully obvious to me that I was jealous.

Zane let out a breath and shook his head. "Not well. My team and I are trying our best. But it's been a challenge to build a tight case."

"That's too bad," I said with a shrug, finding it difficult to sympathize. "Fiona must be pissed."

"I told her earlier today that things are looking pretty bleak for her." He turned his head and gave me a feigned look of horror. "Let me tell you, she wasn't happy about that." Despite the seriousness of the situation, I giggled at his wide eyes and upturned lips.

"Tell me if you need back up," I said, bringing my knees up to my chest.

"I'll let you know." There was a beat of silence that passed between us again. "So, what's on your mind? You're quieter than usual."

I quickly explained the situation with Madame to Zane. He tapped his chin and mulled it over for a few seconds before speaking. "You could do both if you want."

"What do you mean?"

"You're taking a year off, right?" I nodded. "You can run the studio full time at least until you start your masters next year." That seemed like a good plan but teaching at Waterloo had always been the dream. Ballet was a hobby, a side hustle.

"After your masters, you can decide between ballet and teaching," he stated, spreading his hands out in front of him. He made it seem so easy. If only it was that easy.

"I don't know."

"Regardless of what you choose, I would support you," he finished, nudging my shoulder with his. A flush spread across my body. It occurred to me then that my life would feel empty without Zane in it. For the first time in the past few months, I could see myself spending the rest of my life with the kindhearted and soft-spoken Zane.

It was a comforting thought and also a little exciting.

***

I always heard stories of people getting robbed. Windows being smashed to bits and electronics stolen. Any money that wasn't hidden away usually also got snagged. I always thought my paranoia would prevent me from ever getting robbed. That was why coming home to find our apartment ransacked threw me for a loop.

Zane had been laughing at something I said, his fingers loosely wrapped around mine but seeing the state of the apartment caused him to freeze. "Wait here," he said roughly, dropping my hand and cautiously moving further inside.

It was late in the evening, shortly after midnight and our neighbours were fast asleep. I wasn't going to wait outside like a scared cat. I dug around the closet near the door for my bat. Raising it above my head, I followed Zane closely.

Someone had taken a knife to the couch, exposing the white filling inside. The coffee table had been flipped upside down and the lamp on the side table was smashed into a thousand pieces. Cupboard doors were left wide open, the labels peeled off from many of the shelves.

Several things were missing, including the TV and Zane's expensive spoons. A look into my room revealed that some of my things were also taken, like my laptop and the book Zane gifted me.

"I locked the door on my way out," Zane muttered but we both knew who did this. It was easy for a thief to rob a place to which they already had access.

Fiona was behind this, she had to be. Only she would do something as petty as stealing items that would be worthless. This was more than a robbery. It was a statement.

My stomach did a somersault when my eyes fell upon my dresser. A lot of the makeup had been destroyed, the lipsticks smashed against the wall and eye shadows scooped out. That wasn't what caused my heart rate to spike.

Kat's ring was missing.