But the boy didn’t react.
He didn’t argue.
He didn’t raise his voice.
He simply looked at Evelyn again, as if William wasn’t even there.
As if the entire room didn’t exist.
Then he said it.
“Because I can make her stand.”
The silence that followed was absolute.
It wasn’t disbelief anymore.
It was something deeper.
Something that made people uncomfortable.
Because for one fragile, dangerous moment—
the impossible didn’t feel impossible.
William let out a short breath, almost a laugh, but there was no humor in it.
“That’s enough,” he said, more sharply now. “You need to leave.”
Still, the boy didn’t move.
Evelyn felt something tighten in her chest.
Not hope.
Not yet.
But something close to it.
Something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in years.
“Wait,” she said softly.
The word surprised even her.
Her father turned slightly.
“Evelyn—”
“It’s okay,” she whispered.
She didn’t know why she said it.
She didn’t know what she believed.
But she knew one thing with absolute clarity:
This boy wasn’t lying.
Not in the way people usually lied.
There was no hesitation in him.
No doubt.
Only certainty.
She looked at him.
“Why?” she asked quietly. “Why do you want to dance with me?”