Victor's POV
Sleep refused to come.
I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, watching shadows slide across the plaster as moonlight softened into pale dawn.
Each time I closed my eyes, Lily's face flashed before me...her tears, hurt and confusion. The way she'd looked at me in the gallery, like I was a monster. Like the man who'd taken her to school had suddenly transformed into something cruel and confusing.
My words replayed like a curse.
"Poorly raised."
I had said that. To a child.
Shame crawled through my chest, heavy and suffocating. I rolled onto my side, then my back again, searching for a position that might ease the weight pressing down on my chest. But there was no escape from it. No comfortable angle that would let me forget what I'd done.
I thought about my own father. The way his anger had been a living hell in our house, unpredictable and devastating. The way I'd learned to make myself small, invisible, desperate not to trigger whatever might set him off. The fear that had colored my entire childhood.
And I'd just done the same thing to Lily.
The realization sat on my chest like a boulder.
At 4:47 AM, I gave up on sleep entirely. I transferred to my wheelchair and made my way to the study, where I sat in the darkness and let myself feel the full weight of what I'd become.
A bitter, angry man who lashed out at innocent children. A coward who hid behind grief and disability rather than facing his own demons.
Emily's words echoed in my mind. "Stop using your pain as an excuse to hurt others!"
She was right. About all of it.
I'd been using my paralysis, my loss, using all of it as armor and weapon both. Keeping people at a distance while simultaneously punishing them for not being close enough. Demanding perfection while offering nothing but criticism.
And Lily had paid the price for my failures.
The sky was beginning to lighten outside my windows when I finally picked up my phone. My hands trembled slightly as I searched for what I needed, scrolling through options, reading reviews, comparing prices.
It had to be perfect. Had to be something that said what I couldn't yet put into words.
At 5:47 AM, I found it. A custom-made music box, hand-painted with dancing figures, that played "Can't Help Falling in Love"...the Elvis song she'd been trying to listen to when everything went wrong. The seller had promised same-day delivery if I ordered within the next hour.
I didn't hesitate. Added it to cart, paid the premium for early morning delivery.
The purchase confirmation felt like a first step. Small but necessary.
Now I just had to figure out how to actually face her.
The doorbell chimed at exactly 6:30 AM, just as the delivery service had promised.
I heard Jenkins moving through the house, the man never seemed to sleep, and the murmur of voices at the door. Moments later, there was a soft knock at my study door.
"Come in," I called, my voice rough from a night of restlessness.
Jenkins entered carrying a beautifully wrapped package, his expression carefully neutral but his eyes sharp with understanding. He must have heard everything last night.
"Your delivery has arrived, sir," he said quietly, setting the package on my desk.
I stared at it for a long moment. The wrapping was elegant, silver paper with a delicate ribbon. It looked expensive. Thoughtful. Everything my actions yesterday had not been.
"Jenkins," I said, not looking up from the package. "Did I... in the gallery yesterday, was I as terrible as I remember?"
The silence stretched long enough that I finally raised my eyes to meet his.
His voice was soft but honest. "You were frightened, sir. And when you're frightened, you sometimes... lash out."
"That's not an excuse."
"No, sir. It's not." He paused, then added gently, "But it is an explanation. And perhaps, with that understanding, you can do better going forward."
I nodded slowly, my throat tight. "I need to apologize to her."
"Yes, sir. You do."
"I don't..." I stopped, started again. "I don't know how. What if she won't accept it? What if I've damaged something that can't be repaired?"
Jenkins moved closer, his voice dropping low. "Children are very tough, sir. And remarkably forgiving, when the apology is genuine. Miss Lily has a generous heart. If you approach her with honesty and humility, I believe you'll find her more understanding than you deserve."
The words should have stung, but they didn't. They were simply true.
"Will you..." I gestured at the package. "Will you help me with this?"
"Of course, sir."
Together, we removed the store wrapping to reveal the music box underneath. It was even more beautiful than the photos had suggested, hand-painted with detail, showing a young dancer in mid-twirl, her dress flowing around her. The craftsmanship was exquisite.
I wound the key on the bottom, and the melody began to play. Soft, sweet, achingly familiar.
Wise men say, only fools rush in...
My chest tightened. This had been Sharon's and my wedding song. The same song that had been playing on the record player when it broke. The same song Lily had wanted to dance to.
The connection felt significant somehow. Like maybe, in some small way, Sharon wouldn't mind sharing this song with a little girl who just wanted to dance.
"It's lovely, sir," Jenkins said softly.
I carefully closed the music box, silencing the melody. "I should go now. Before I lose my nerve."
"Would you like me to accompany you?"
"No." I needed to do this alone. "But thank you, Jenkins. For everything."
He nodded and left quietly, closing the door behind him.
I sat there for another minute, gathering my courage. Then I picked up the music box, placed it carefully in my lap, and wheeled myself toward Lily's room.
I knocked softly. Once. Twice. Three times.
No response.
Perhaps she was still asleep. Perhaps I should come back later, at a more reasonable hour, when Emily could be present to...
I was about to wheel away when something stopped me. The coward's retreat. Running away instead of facing what I'd done.
I couldn't keep doing that.
Slowly, carefully, I turned the handle and eased the door open.
The room was dim, early morning light filtering through curtains decorated with butterflies. And there, in her castle bed, Lily was sleeping peacefully, curled on her side with Mr. Hops tucked under her chin, her locket dangling from the bunny's ear.
She looked so small. So innocent.
I wheeled closer, my movements quiet, until I was beside her bed. My hand reached out, almost of its own accord, and I gently touched her hair, soft as silk beneath my fingers.
Her eyes fluttered open. For a moment, she looked confused, still caught between sleep and waking. Then she saw me, and fear flashed across her face, as she scrambled backward against her pillows, clutching Mr. Hops tightly.
"Lily, no," I said quickly, keeping my voice soft and gentle. "Please, sweetheart, calm down. I'm not here to scold you. I'm not angry. I promise."
She stared at me with uncertain eyes, her chest rising and falling with quick, frightened breaths.
"I came to apologize," I continued, the words catching in my throat. "And to give you something. I'm so sorry for frightening you. Please, don't be afraid of me."
Slowly, her breathing began to steady. She didn't move closer, but the terror in her eyes faded slightly.
"I'm sorry," I said, meeting her eyes directly. "For yesterday. For yelling at you. For saying cruel things. For making you feel like you'd done something unforgivable when all you wanted to do was dance."
Her lower lip trembled slightly. "I didn't mean to break it," she whispered. "The music player. It was already fallen when I came back. I was just trying to help."
The words hit me like a physical blow. Of course. Of course that's what had happened. She hadn't broken it through carelessness, she'd been trying to pick it up.
"I know," I said, though I hadn't known, not really. I'd been too consumed with anger to even ask. "And even if you had broken it accidentally, that still wouldn't have justified how I spoke to you. There's no excuse for the way I acted."
She looked down at Mr. Hops, her fingers playing with the bunny's ears. "Are you... are you still mad at me?"
"No, Lily. I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at myself." I reached for the music box in my lap. "I brought you something. A gift. Not to make up for what I said, nothing can really do that, but to say I'm sorry, and to say that I hope you'll still want to dance."
I held it out to her, and after a moment's hesitation, she leaned forward and took it.
Her eyes widened as she examined it, tracing the painted dancer with one small finger. "It's so pretty," she breathed.
"Wind the key on the bottom," I suggested gently.
She did, and the melody began to play. The same Elvis song. The same one from yesterday.
But I can't help falling in love with you...
Lily's face lit up with wonder. "It's the song! The one I wanted to dance to!"
"I know." My voice came out rougher than intended. I paused, studying her curious expression. "Lily, can I ask you something? With all those records in the gallery, why did you choose this particular song?"
She looked up at me, her eyes bright. "It's me and Mommy's favorite song," she said simply. "We listen to it all the time at home. Mommy says it makes her feel happy and sad at the same time, in a good way. I thought... I thought if I learned to dance to it really well, I could show Mommy and make her happy. She's been sad lately too."
"I see," I muttered under my breath, the words barely audible. The connection between Emily and this song, the way it wove through all our lives like a thread I hadn't noticed until now.
I took a breath. "Lily, that song... it was my wedding song. Mine and my wife's. Sharon's. I haven't played it in five years because..." I gestured vaguely, struggling with the words. "Because I lost her. And listening to it hurt too much."
Lily's eyes went wide with understanding. "That's why you were so upset," she whispered. "Not just because the recorder broke, but because it was playing that song."
"Yes," I admitted, grateful for her perception.
She was quiet for a moment, then set the music box carefully beside her. "I'm really sorry, Mr. Hawthorne. I didn't know it was that special to you."
"You have nothing to apologize for," I said firmly. "You couldn't have known. And I..." I paused, choosing my words carefully. "I shouldn't have said you were poorly raised. Because that's the furthest thing from the truth. Your mother has raised you beautifully. You're kind and sweet and thoughtful, and none of what happened was your fault."
A small smile tugged at her lips. "Thank you, Mr. Hawthorne."
I cleared my throat, shifting slightly in my wheelchair. "It seems to me that you really like to dance."
Lily chuckled, the sound light and belittling. "I love to dance! But I'm a terrible dancer. I always wished I could be a good ballerina, like the ones in the movies. They're so graceful and beautiful, and I just... flail around."
"I don't think you flail," I said, and I meant it. "I think you move with joy. And that's more important than technique."
She looked at me hopefully, her fingers twisting together. "Mr. Hawthorne? Would you... would you maybe practice with me sometimes? Dancing, I mean?"
The request caught me off guard. "Lily, I... my dancing days are over." I gestured to myself, to the wheelchair, to my useless legs. "I can't make use of my legs anymore. I'm confined to this chair."
But instead of looking disappointed, Lily's face brightened. "You don't really need your legs to dance," she said simply. "Dancing is about moving around, and you can definitely move around. I've seen you zoom down the hallways really fast!"
Her logic was so simple, so pure, that I found myself speechless.
"Come on," she said, climbing down from her castle bed. She landed with a soft thump and walked over to me, stretching out both her small hands. "Let me show you."
I stared at her outstretched hands for a long moment. Then, slowly, I took them in mine, her fingers warm and trusting.
She rewound the music box, and the melody began to play again.
Take my hand, take my whole life too...
Lily started to move, and instinctively, I began to follow. I swayed slightly, using my upper body, letting the wheelchair rock gently to the rhythm. Then I lifted one of her hands and guided her in a spin, and she twirled gracefully, her pajamas billowing around her.
"You see?" she said breathlessly, spinning back to face me with a radiant smile. "I told you, you can!"
I spun my wheelchair in a slow arc, and she followed, dancing around me, and something in my chest, something that had been frozen for five years, began to crack and thaw.
We moved together through the rest of the song, her movements becoming more confident, my own motions growing less hesitant. It wasn't traditional dancing. It wasn't what I'd done with Sharon all those years ago.
But it was real. And it was beautiful.
As the final notes faded, Lily took a graceful bow, her arms spread wide, her face flushed with happiness.
I smiled... genuinely, for the first time in what felt like years.
"That was wonderful, Lily," I said softly.
She straightened up, grinning. "We should do that every day!"
"Perhaps we should," I agreed.
She moved closer, suddenly shy again. "Mr. Hawthorne? Can I ask you something else?"
"Of course."
"Could you... could you maybe help me with my homework sometimes? Mommy tries, but she gets confused by the new way they teach math, and I heard Mr. Jenkins say you're really smart."
The request was so simple, so normal, that it made my throat tight.
"I would be honored to help you with your homework," I said seriously.
Her face lit up with pure joy. "Really?"
"Really." I glanced toward the window, where morning light was growing stronger. "Now, you should probably get prepared for the day. Why don't you get dressed, and I'll see you at breakfast?"
I winked at her, an awkward gesture I hadn't made in years, and was rewarded with her delighted giggle.
"Okay!" She paused, then threw her arms around my neck in a quick hug. "Thank you, Mr. Hawthorne. Thank you for the music box and for dancing with me and for... for not being scary anymore."
"Thank you for giving me another chance," I replied, my voice rough with emotion.
As I wheeled myself out of her room and back toward my study, I made one more call on my phone.
"Delphine Academy of Dance," a cheerful voice answered. "How may I help you?"
"Yes," I said, surprising myself with the steadiness in my voice. "I'd like to enroll a student. Her name is Lily Greene. She's seven years old, and she loves to dance."
Breakfast was at eight o'clock.
I arrived at the dining room early, freshly showered and dressed, my heart hammering in my chest with a nervousness I hadn't felt since my first board presentation.
Jenkins appeared at my elbow, his expression warm. "Good morning, sir. Shall I have your usual breakfast prepared?"
"Yes, please. And Jenkins?" I caught his arm gently. "Thank you. For everything."
He nodded, understanding exactly what I meant. "Of course, sir. It's been my pleasure watching you come back to life."
The words settled over me like a benediction.
Emily arrived next, with Margaret leaning on her arm and Nurse Mary following behind. When Emily saw me sitting at the table, not hidden away in my study, she stopped so abruptly that Margaret nearly stumbled.
"Victor," she said carefully, her voice neutral. "Good morning."
"Emily. Mary." I nodded to each of them, deliberately not addressing Margaret directly. The tension from yesterday still hung in the air, and I wasn't ready to navigate that minefield yet. "Please, sit. I've asked Jenkins to prepare breakfast for all of us."
Emily's eyes narrowed slightly, searching my face for some clue about my intentions. I couldn't blame her suspicion. Yesterday I'd been a monster. Today I was having breakfast with her.
The silence was uncomfortable, heavy with unspoken words, until Lily burst through the dining room doors like a small tornado of energy.
"Mommy! Mommy!" She ran to Emily first, practically vibrating with excitement. "Mr. Hawthorne gave me the most beautiful music box! And we danced together! In my room! It was amazing!"
Emily's expression flickered with surprise, her eyes darting to me before returning to Lily. "That's... that's great, sweetheart," she said carefully, her tone polite but distant.
I saw it then, the small gesture I wasn't supposed to notice. Lily caught her mother's eye and winked, an obvious signal that even a seven-year-old couldn't quite pull off subtly. The message was clear, tell Mr. Hawthorne thank you for the gift.
But Emily simply smoothed Lily's hair and guided her to her seat without acknowledging the prompt.
The coolness of her response stung more than any angry words could have.
Jenkins appeared with the first course, and we began eating. The meal was delicious, but I barely tasted it, too aware of Emily's careful politeness, the way she engaged warmly with everyone except me.
Lily chattered excitedly about her week at school, about her new friends, about the music box and our dance. Margaret responded with genuine interest, and even Mary contributed to the conversation.
But Emily... Emily was present without being engaged. Polite without being warm.
It was exactly what I deserved, and it hurt more than I'd expected.
When breakfast finally concluded and Lily ran off to play, I caught Emily's arm gently as she prepared to help her mother up.
"Emily, could I speak with you for a moment? Privately?"
She looked at me, her expression unreadable. Then she nodded to Mary, who helped Margaret to the room, and turned to face me.
"I wanted to apologize," I said quietly. "For yesterday. For how I spoke to Lily. For how I've been treating both of you. I was wrong, Emily. Completely, utterly wrong."
"It's fine," she said, her voice carefully neutral.
"It's not fine..."
"If that's all," she interrupted, her tone still polite but unmistakably dismissive, "I have something to do."
A cold shoulder that I had no right to protest.
I swallowed hard, nodding. "Of course. I understand."
Without another word, I wheeled myself away, the silence between us heavier than any argument could have been.
I'd hurt her deeply. Hurt her daughter. And an apology, even a genuine one, wasn't going to fix that overnight.
If it could be fixed at all.
As I returned to my study, I thought about Lily's words...Mommy has been sad lately too.
And I realized, with painful clarity, that I had a long way to go before I could earn back Emily's trust.