After taking it easy for a couple of days, I realized that it was time for me to start dancing again. In the mid-afternoon, I crept into the studio as quietly as I could- I didn't want to disturb the contemporary class that was going on. I sat my ballet bag in the dressing room, and then I made my way to the large windows where a note on the ground caught my attention.
I picked it up, mainly because I was curious. It looked harmless, so I thought, "Why not?" Sadly, I did not have an issue with poking my noise in other people's business. As wrong as it was, I never felt entirely guilty about it, but I never felt guilty about most things. It wasn't like I would tell the person or anything. It would be my dirty little secret, and if Ophélie were still here, it would be hers, too. I'd see to it.
Then, I further inspected the note. The name on the front was unmistakably mine, and it was written in Ophélie's handwriting. I could obviously tell, considering her love aside from dance was handwriting. She spent much of her free time working on her penmanship because she thought handwriting told strangers stories about the writer. She also believed that one was judged by their handwriting, so it better be beautiful.
I had twenty minutes to spare until I had to change into my ballet gear, so I took a seat and unfolded what I later discovered to be a goodbye letter. Ophélie did not begin her letter with a formal greeting; instead, she scrawled out my name, and her first sentence declared, "J'ai quitté." The letter was quite brief, but even in its brevity, it told me what happened. I didn't need many details to realize that Ophélie did something...well, how would you say this in English? Unforgivable? She repeated that she had to leave at least three times, and that wasn't a good sign.
My heart sank as much as it possibly could (for me, that is), and I hurriedly wadded up the letter.
I glared at the crushed piece of paper, and took a moment to think. She left without saying "goodbye", and while such behavior was usually an attempt to act dramatic, it most likely wasn't this time. She did something that required her to stealthily disappear, and it most likely put herself or others in danger.
I threw the paper ball on the ground, and I headed towards the changing room when something rather important popped into my head. I was hoping ballet would get my mind off this, but I was also worried that it might make me think of the situation even more.
...I know why Ophélie left...and it is almost unimaginable. Unbelievable. Unforgivable.