“I… I didn’t apply again,” I whispered. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s fully sponsored,” Michael said. “Tuition, accommodation, travel. Everything.”
My chest rose and fell rapidly. “Why?”
“Because you gave up your dream to save my son,” he said. “And I could not watch that sacrifice become your loss.”
Tears slid down my cheeks.
Then his voice lowered, careful, honest.
“There’s something else,” he said. “I care about you. Deeply. I didn’t plan to. But it’s real.”
My heart thundered like those luxury engines on the street that day.
I laughed through tears. “I care about you too.”
He pulled me into a hug that felt like safety, not possession. Warm, steady, human.
Leaving for the nine-month training was painful. David cried at the airport so hard that strangers stared.
“Come back soon, Auntie Sonia,” he sobbed, clinging to me.
“I promise,” I whispered, kissing his forehead.
Michael hugged me gently. “Go and shine,” he said. “We’ll be waiting.”
Training was intense. Long days. Strict instructors. Competition that made my legs shake.
But I kept going.
Michael called often. My mother kept me grounded. David sent videos praying for me in his small voice.
“God, please help Auntie Sonia not fall on stage. Amen.”
I would laugh and cry at the same time.
When the nine months ended, I flew home trembling with excitement.
At the airport, David didn’t run to me.
