Chapter 1

Sofia's POV

5 Years later

I lose myself in the rhythm of the music, every beat syncing with the pulse of my body as I dance in front of the mirror in my studio. The camera is rolling, capturing every movement, every expression, as I create content for my social media. It’s more than just a routine; it’s a way to share a piece of myself, even if the world out there doesn’t know the whole story. After five years of living with the void of forgotten memories, dancing is the one thing that keeps me anchored. It’s the only thing that has consistently felt like mine, the only thing that makes sense.

I can’t remember my past. One day, I woke up in a hospital bed, my mind a blur, and the face of my husband was the first thing I saw. Everything changed after that accident—everything I knew, everything I was, disappeared. But there’s always been this unsettling feeling, like a shadow in my life, telling me that something isn’t quite right. Yet, dancing—dancing is the one thing that has stayed with me. It’s my refuge, my release. No matter how fractured my memory feels, when I move, when I feel the music, it’s the only time I can truly say I’m present. It’s the only thing that keeps me from feeling completely lost.

After graduating college, I made the decision to follow dance with everything I had, even when my husband didn't understand. He never supported my passion, always questioning the direction I was choosing. His doubts hurt, but they also fueled me, pushing me to go after it even harder. Three years ago, I opened my own dance studio—a space for both me and others to grow. It’s small, a quiet little place where I can pour my heart into teaching and creating. I rent it out to dancers who need a space, a modest income that helps keep the lights on and the dreams alive. Along with the monetization from my online dance content, it’s my only source of income.

My family is wealthy, but I have no desire to follow the path they expect. My father runs the business, and he made it clear that I would only get my inheritance when I have my first child. It’s strange, the way they’ve always tied my future to something I’m not ready for. The idea of having a child, of fulfilling some role that feels so far off, isn’t on my mind at all. I’m young—still figuring things out, still trying to understand what I want. But they’ve already decided. At twenty-two, they had me married off, like it was all part of some plan they’d been building for years. And sometimes, I wonder why they pushed me into this life so fast. Why marry so young? Why tie me to someone else’s expectations when I still can’t even remember who I was before?

Some days, it doesn’t feel like enough, and I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. But every time I dance, when my body moves to the rhythm, it reminds me that this is where I’m meant to be. It’s not just about the money or the recognition; it’s about the feeling—the connection to something deeper, something that has always been within me, even if I can’t remember exactly who I was before. Dancing is the only constant, the only thing that keeps me going, even when everything else feels like a puzzle I can't quite solve.

Exactly after finishing the film, Sabrina and Marie burst into the room, their eyes shining with excitement as they handed me her phone. Their wide smiles and energy were contagious.

"Sofiaaaa!" Sabrina called out, her voice full of joy. I raised an eyebrow, confused by the sudden rush of energy.

"What happened?" I asked, still trying to process.

"We entered the preliminary round of Legends of the Floor!" she shouted, practically bouncing. I froze, staring at the phone in disbelief. We did it?

We had worked so hard for this—one whole year of practice, pushing ourselves through every challenge. Every doubt, every setback, and now this moment, this confirmation. It felt surreal.

This was more than just another competition; it was a dream we had chased, and now we were here, at the starting line. The opportunity was everything we had worked for, and I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of pride. 

To celebrate our little victory, we decided to go out for dinner. We had a few drinks, laughing and talking, caught up in the moment. Time flew by, and before we knew it, the night had grown late. Realizing how much time had passed, we decided it was time to head home, the buzz of our success still filling the air.

"Where have you been?" I froze in place as soon as I heard Gabriel's voice. It was the one I feared the most—the one that always came when he wasn’t in a good mood. He was sitting on the sofa, a glass of alcohol in his hand. Just the way he looked at me made my body tremble.

"I’m sorry, hon, for coming home late," I said, my voice shaky. "I didn’t realize the time. I just went to dinner with Sabrina and Marie because we entered the preliminary round of Legends of the Floor."

I said it quickly, trying to sound confident, but inside, I was nervous. I forced a smile, wanting to share the good news, even though I knew deep down, he wouldn’t care.

"How many times did I tell you to get a real job? You could work at the university. Why are you so desperate with that competition?" He said, his face twisted in anger.

I couldn’t help but respond. "You know that this is my dream and my passion, Gab."

I guess that was the last straw for him. His face darkened, and before I could even react, he threw the glass of alcohol against the wall. The sound of it smashing made me jump, and I quickly covered my ears, fear surging through me.

He stood up from the couch, his footsteps heavy as he approached me, his face contorted with rage.

"You’re not going to participate in that competition, Sofia. Stop this madness with dancing," he snapped, jabbing his finger at me. His words were harsh, and the way he pointed at me made my chest tighten with both fear and frustration.

"Maybe you're forgetting that you're married, Sofia? We should be focused on building this marriage, on having a baby," he said, his voice cold and controlling as he yanked my hair, sending a sharp pain shooting through my scalp.

"Gab, please stop, I’m hurting," I pleaded, tears welling up and spilling down my cheeks.

But he didn’t listen. Without warning, he grabbed me and shoved me so hard I stumbled back, landing roughly on the sofa. His anger flared, and he started slapping me, each blow harder than the last. He’d always gotten angry when I spoke up, and tonight, it felt like I’d pushed him too far.

Before I could fully grasp the moment, the energy in the room shifted. Gabriel walked in. From standing in front of me, he went straight to the cabinet where his golf equipment was stored. He grabbed his golf club wedge and came back to me, his eyes burning with anger.

"You are pushing me to my limits, Sofia," he growled, his voice cold and menacing. "If you don’t want to quit dancing, I’ll make your legs quit for it."

He raised the wedge, and before I could react, he struck my legs with it. The pain was immediate, sharp, and overwhelming. I screamed, the agony shooting through me like a thousand needles.