tonight?”
I was surprised.
But I didn’t want to pressure her.
“All right, sweetheart.”
Over the following two weeks, things became worse.
Audrey seemed irritated whenever I mentioned dancing.
When I offered to help her buy new ballet shoes, she snapped.
“Mom, can you stop trying to fix everything?”
I stared at her.
“I was only offering.”
“I know.”
“Is something bothering you?”
“No.”
Then she went upstairs.
That evening, Scott found me standing at the kitchen sink.
“I’m worried about Audrey,” I told him.
He put a hand on my shoulder.
“She’s sixteen. Teenagers go through phases.”
“But ballet has always been the thing that makes her happiest.”
“Maybe she’s tired.”
I wanted to believe him.
But the change felt too sudden.
It was as though something had taken the joy out of an activity Audrey had loved her entire life.
