“Yes, you can.”
“No, I really don’t think I can.”
My trembling hand was already reaching for the door handle.
He gently took my hand.
“Look at me.”
I did.
“You don’t have to impress anyone tonight.”
His voice was calm.
“You don’t have to perform.”
I swallowed hard.
“You just have to walk in.”
“What if they stare?”
“Then they stare.”
“What if they pity me?”
“Then that’s their problem.”
I shook my head.
“You don’t understand.”
His expression softened.
“I think I do.”
I looked away, but he wouldn’t budge.
He squeezed my hand.
“You are still Elena.”
My throat tightened.
“Nothing about this disease changes who you are.”
I couldn’t speak.
After a moment, he smiled.
“Come on.”
Against every instinct screaming inside me, I followed him.
The moment we entered the gym, I regretted it.
The room felt quieter.
Not completely silent.
Just quieter.
Heads turned.
Conversations paused.
People noticed.
Of course they noticed.
Some looked sad.
Some looked shocked.
Some quickly looked away when they realized I’d caught them staring.
My face burned.
I wanted to disappear.
I wanted to run straight back to the parking lot.
The pity was worse than I imagined.
I felt exposed.
Fragile.
Broken.
A few friends came over to hug me.
They meant well.
I knew they meant well.
That somehow made it harder.
Every hug felt like goodbye.
Every sympathetic smile made me feel smaller.
I was seconds away from leaving.
Then, Leo squeezed my hand.
Hard.
I looked up.
Something about his expression seemed different.
Focused.
Determined.
Like he was waiting for something.
Before I could even think about what was happening, the emcee invited everyone to the center to dance.
“Can I have this dance?” Leo asked me, slowly bowing as he held out his hand.
I took a deep breath and nodded.
I wasn’t going to let cancer take away this night.
Especially not now.
For a few monents, it was as if everything else surrounding us disappeared.
All I could see was Leo. His dimples, and his beautiful brown eyes staring straight at me.
“Thank you for going to the prom with me,” he said, embracing me right before the song ended.
My heart skipped a beat.
Before I could reply, he started walking toward the stage right when the music stopped.
“Leo?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
He simply kept walking.
People began noticing.
Conversations faded.
The music stopped.
I followed him, confused.
The spotlight near the stage suddenly illuminated him.
The room grew quiet.
Everyone was watching.
My heart pounded.
What was happening?
Leo stepped onto the stage.
I stood frozen below it.
The entire gymnasium seemed to be holding its breath.
Then, he reached up and removed his hat.
A collective gasp swept through the crowd.
My eyes widened.
His head was completely shaved.
Every strand of his dark hair was gone.
For a second, I couldn’t process what I was seeing.
Then, emotion slammed into me all at once.
He had done it for me.
He had shaved his head for me.
Tears instantly filled my eyes.
Several students began crying.
Teachers looked stunned.
Even the principal appeared emotional.
Leo looked directly at me.
The room blurred through my tears.
I thought I understood everything in that moment.
I thought this was the grand gesture.
The romantic surprise.
The beautiful act of solidarity.
I thought he had shaved his head so I wouldn’t feel alone.
Then, I noticed something strange.
Leo wasn’t looking relieved.
He wasn’t looking emotional.
He was looking toward the gym entrance.
Waiting.
Almost like he was watching a clock.
A second later, I heard the doors burst open.
Every head in the room turned.
My heart stopped.
Leo’s mother was marching down the center aisle.
And she wasn’t alone.
In her hand was a sealed official envelope.
She walked with purpose straight toward the stage.
Straight toward us.
That was when I saw the look in his eyes.
And suddenly realized his shaved head wasn’t just a gesture of support.
It was a distraction.
A carefully planned distraction.
Something had been happening behind my back.
Something involving Leo.
His mother.
And that envelope.
Whatever was inside was about to change everything.
My heart was pounding so hard I could barely hear anything.
The entire gym had gone silent.
Every student, every teacher, every parent was staring at Leo’s mother as she marched toward the stage with the envelope clutched tightly in her hand.
I looked up at Leo.
He was still watching her approach.
Not surprised.
Not confused.
Waiting.
That was when I knew.
Whatever was happening, he had known about it all along.
My stomach dropped.
“Leo,” I tried calling out.