He lifted his arm and gave me a big thumbs-up—a simple gesture, but one that seemed to reach straight into my heart.
Something inside me eased. I took a deep breath, found my voice, and sang my solo the way I’d practiced it dozens of times. My notes weren’t perfect, but they were mine, carried by the warmth of one person who chose to show up.
Jim waited for me just inside the entrance, holding a cup of hot cocoa he must have grabbed from the refreshment table. His smile was gentle, not pushy, not overly emotional—just steady.
“You did great,” he said quietly as he handed me the warm cup. “I’m proud of you.”
His arms wrapped around me in a hug that was both careful and strong, as though he knew how much that small gesture would mean. I hadn’t expected to need comfort that night, but the moment he held me, I realized how much I had.
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