Chương 25: Chapter 25: The Weight of Promises
As the vibrant hues of autumn painted the streets of Paris, Etienne found himself reflecting on the time that had passed since his mother, Yuna, left for South Korea three years ago. The memory of her departure was etched vividly in his mind—the mixture of pride and sadness in her eyes as she had hugged him tightly, promising to return soon.
"I have to do this, Etienne," she had whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "It's a promise I made long before you were born. I need to fulfill my commitment, but I'll be back before you know it."
At that moment, he had understood her need to go, but the ache of her absence had gnawed at him ever since. Yuna had left to take up a professorship at a prestigious university, a role that held great significance for her and was a chance to share her passion for ballet with the next generation. Yet, for Etienne, it felt like a betrayal, a chasm opening between them at a time when he needed her the most.
During the first few months of her absence, he had often replayed their last moments together, searching for signs of hope in her words. He had thought that by pursuing ballet, by throwing himself into his training under Lucien, he could somehow bridge that gap. Each rigorous session had been tinged with the desire to make her proud, to show her that he was thriving despite the distance. But the weight of her promise lingered heavily on his heart.
"Next year, I'll come home, I promise," she had reassured him in their last video call. Her voice had been warm, filled with the love that had once felt so comforting. "You'll be amazed at how much you've grown. I can't wait to see you perform."
Etienne had nodded, a smile plastered on his face, but inside, he felt the conflicting emotions swirl within him. He had grown accustomed to being addressed as Etienne D'Arcy, the son of the illustrious ballet dancer Lucien, and the pressures of expectation weighed heavily on his young shoulders. The stage had become his refuge, yet the absence of his mother cast a shadow over every performance.
He often wondered what it would be like when she returned. Would she recognize the dancer he had become? Would she be proud of the young man he was slowly evolving into, or would she see the boy she had left behind? The questions consumed him, and as the months dragged on, the anticipation of her return began to shape his motivations.
In the midst of his training, he would catch himself daydreaming about their reunion—how he would run into her arms, how she would marvel at the progress he had made, how they would laugh and reminisce about the past. But the reality of Lucien's expectations continued to loom, each day feeling like a new trial to endure.
On particularly grueling days, after hours of relentless training, he would find himself staring out of the studio windows, watching the Parisian skyline as dusk fell. The golden light would cast long shadows across the city, reminding him of the distance that lay between him and his mother. He longed for the simplicity of their time together, where the pressures of ballet had not yet consumed his life.
"Focus, Etienne! You're losing concentration!" Lucien's voice would pull him back from his reverie, and he would dive back into the routine, determined to channel the longing for his mother into his performance.
With each passing day, the knowledge that Yuna would be returning next year became a source of both hope and anxiety. What if she didn't approve of the intensity of his training? What if she saw the toll it had taken on him? Would she understand why he had pushed himself so hard?
As he prepared for his upcoming performances, Etienne vowed to prove to her that her sacrifices had not been in vain. He imagined the moment she would see him on stage, the applause echoing in the theater, and her pride shining in her eyes.
But the reality of Lucien's relentless training continued to overshadow those thoughts. Each evening, as he crawled into bed, he would remind himself of the promises made: Yuna's promise to return, and his promise to make her proud.
In those quiet moments before sleep took him, he would whisper to himself, "Next year, Mom. I'll be ready." The hope of their reunion flickered in his heart, and he clung to it like a lifeline.
As the leaves turned to gold and crimson, Etienne knew that the coming year would bring significant change. He was on the cusp of something great—both in ballet and in his relationship with his mother. But for now, he had to focus on the present, on the dance that awaited him, and on the legacy he was carving out for himself.
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