As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow over the small town of Awaspur, Tara stood in front of the cracked mirror in her dimly lit room. The reflection showed not just her face, but a tapestry of emotions woven together by years of loss, longing, and unfulfilled dreams. The music from the old radio in the corner filled the air—a haunting melody that resonated with the ache in her heart.

She had been practicing in secret, the rhythm of her body synonymous with the pulse of her soul. Each pirouette spun away the pain, each leap soared beyond the confines of her dreary existence. But the thrill of dancing was always tainted by the fear of her stepmother’s wrath. Just last week, she had been punished for dancing in the living room, her only sanctuary, and forced to scrub the floors for hours as a reminder of her place in their household.