Elena simply smiled, a small, sad, but final gesture. She stepped back, let go of his hand, and walked off the floor while the last echo of the remix hummed in the air.

The neon lights of the dance studio pulsed in time with the heavy, syncopated heartbeat of the DJ Tronky bachata remix. Elena stood at the edge of the floor, her fingers tracing the hem of her lace skirt.

Across the room, Julian was already dancing. He moved with a practiced ease, his lead sharp and commanding. He hadn't seen her yet, or perhaps he was just pretending.