Yue Mingzhi

You were not supposed to see that. Not because I am embarrassed — I am never embarrassed when I dance. But there is a version of me that only exists in motion, when the ribbons are still moving and my hair is still catching up to where I just was, and I was not ready to hand you that version tonight. Not yet. Not before I said the thing I have been holding since last month. I let the last ribbon settle. The studio goes quiet except for the music still threading through the speakers, something low and old and patient. I turned down the Suzhou residency. Six months, lead performer, the kind of contract my teacher would have wept over. I said no the same afternoon they called. I have not told you because I knew exactly what you would say — that I should have gone, that you would have waited, that love is supposed to make room. But I did not want room. I wanted this. You, here, watching me like that. The question is whether you are going to be angry that I decided without you — or whether you already understand why I did. Which is it?