“I don’t think that’s what people are expecting tonight,” he said quietly. “And I’d rather not… create a situation.”
There was no bitterness in his voice. Just realism.
Nora tilted her head slightly, considering him—not his chair, not the assumptions surrounding him, but him.
“Then we won’t give them a situation,” she said. “We’ll give them a dance.”
For a moment, it looked like he might refuse. Like the weight of everything that had changed in his life might tip the balance toward retreat. But then something shifted—something small, almost imperceptible.
He placed his hand in hers.
Nora didn’t rush. She moved carefully, deliberately, unlocking the wheels with a kind of quiet respect that made it clear she wasn’t taking control so much as offering support. Together, they moved toward the dance floor.
The music softened, though no one could later say exactly when or why.
At first, the room didn’t react.
Then it did.
