"Thanks. I was trying to start a new fashion trend," he replied, wiping his hands on a rag. "What do you have there?"
Cali took a deep breath and handed him the letter. Henry read it silently, his face turning serious.
"Buenos Aires," he murmured, giving the letter back. "That's... that's amazing, Cali."
"It is," she agreed, waiting for more.
Henry forced a smile. "You're going to accept it, right?"
Cali blinked, surprised. "You think I should?"
"Of course. It's the chance of your life: dancing where your mother danced, living her dream, your dream. How could you say no?"
She crossed her arms. "So, you want me to go?"
Henry hesitated. For a moment, it looked like he was about to tell the truth, but then he smiled again—a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I want you to be happy. And if Buenos Aires makes you happy, then yes, I want you to go."
Cali felt a tightness in her chest. She had hoped he'd ask her to stay, that he'd say he needed her, but he didn't say any of that.
"All right," she said, putting the letter away. "Then I'll accept it."
Henry nodded, but didn't say another word. He just went back to painting the wall, his movements stiffer than before.
Cali walked out of the studio with a lump in her throat. She couldn't tell if she felt relieved or disappointed.
Two days later, she called the dance company in Buenos Aires and accepted the offer. Her flight was scheduled for the following week.
Dorothy organized a small farewell party at the studio. The students brought cakes, soda, and even put together a surprise performance for Cali. She cried, laughed, and promised to come back and visit them. Henry was there, standing off to the side, watching it all with a sad smile.
When the party was over and everyone had left, Cali and Henry were alone in the empty studio. Moonlight came in through the windows, casting soft shadows on the freshly painted floor.
"So, this is it," Cali said, trying to sound casual. "I'm leaving tomorrow morning."
"I know," Henry replied, hands in his pockets.
They stood there still, the silence heavy between them. Then Henry took a step forward.
"Cali, I need to tell you something before you go."
"What?"
He took a deep breath. "I lied when I said I wanted you to go. I don't. I want you to stay. But I can't ask you that, because it would be selfish. You deserve to follow your dreams."
Cali felt tears sting her eyes. "Henry..."
"Let me finish," he said, his voice shaking. "You changed my life, Cali. You showed me that not everything can be bought, that some things, some people, are too precious for that. And I love you. I know I've said it before, but now it's different. Now I understand what it really means."
Tears streamed down her face. "I love you, too, you idiot."
Henry smiled, eyes glistening. "Then we have a problem."
"We do," she agreed, smiling through the tears.
He stepped closer. "If you dance that tango in Buenos Aires, I'll be in the audience. I promise."
Cali laughed through her tears. "You promise?"
"I promise."
And then he kissed her—a slow, sweet kiss, filled with everything they hadn't managed to say.
When they pulled apart, they were both breathless.
"Stay with me tonight," Henry said, "before you go."
Cali nodded, unable to speak.
They spent the night together at his apartment. They talked about everything and nothing, laughed at silly memories, and finally let themselves be completely honest with each other. Henry talked about his lonely childhood, about how he always felt the need to prove himself. Cali spoke about her mother and the fear of not being good enough to follow in her footsteps.
And between the serious conversations, there were funny moments—like when Henry tried to make pancakes for breakfast and burned every single one.
"Seriously, how do you manage to burn pancakes?" Cali asked, laughing as she opened the windows to clear the smoke.
"It's a talent," he said, tossing the pan into the sink.
"A terrible talent."
They ended up ordering bagels and coffee, and they ate sitting on the living room floor, watching the sunrise through the window.
When it was time to head to the airport, Cali already had her suitcase in hand. Henry insisted on driving her. The ride was quiet; neither of them knew what to say.
At the airport, Henry carried her suitcase to the check-in counter.
"So, this is it," Cali said, trying to smile.
"This is it," Henry repeated.
They hugged, and Cali buried her face in his chest, trying to memorize the scent, the warmth, everything.
"I'm going to miss you," she whispered.
"Me, too. But you're going to be amazing out there. I know it."
Cali stepped back, wiping her face. "You promised you'd be there."