Chapter 2

After James hung up, I hailed a cab and headed home.

When I got home, my mom called me, not bothering with any small talk. "I've booked you a solo concert at the Golden Hall Concert Venue at the end of next month.

"Get ready. Don't embarrass me."

I walked in with my violin slung over my shoulder, feeling around in the dark entryway until I found the light switch. Coolly, I answered, "I'm not going."

On the other end, Mom sounded absolutely livid and stunned. "What did you say? Don't you dare forget about your grandmother's ashes-"

I hung up before she could finish.

My dad's stepdaughter held a piano concert in Kingsbridge last week. That was the real reason Mom was so desperate to get me involved.

After I finished tidying up, I lay down on my bed. Moonlight seeped through the sheer curtains, spilling across the floor.

Suddenly, I remembered how, years ago, someone had held me in his arms, gently comforting me. "Emmy, you don't look happy.

"Emmy, whatever you want, I'll give it to you, alright?"

His voice and shadow kept haunting me, echoing in my mind.

In my dreams, I was back in that year when he let everyone know how much he loved me.

It was seven years ago when James and I first started dating.

Most male celebrities who were starting to get famous would avoid any talk of romance or scandals like the plague.

But on the very night he had won the Best Actor Award, at the height of his fame, holding the trophy on a stage watched by thousands, the first thing he said was: "First, I have to thank my girlfriend."

With deep affection and fiery passion, he declared, "The one I love is an incredibly talented violinist."

Fans went wild, booing and complaining. Like that, James lost more than a million followers overnight.

But he never backed down. He went online and made a public post: [If it ever comes down to a choice, I could walk away from my career. But I'd never let go of the person I love.]

His agency was so mad they could barely contain themselves, and they completely sidelined him for over half a year.

After being benched by the company, James watched his career and prospects go down the drain. He became the laughingstock of the whole industry.

At his lowest point, he was so lost and distracted that he ended up in a car accident.

He spent over ten days in the hospital, barely able to move, yet he still called me, hoping I'd pick up. But he never got to see me, not once.

A few months later, his stomach problems flared up again, and he ended up back in the hospital. That night, he called me over and over.

For the first time, this wild, untamed man sounded like a kid, begging me for comfort. "Emmy, it hurts. Can you come see me?"

At that moment, I was sitting in my practice room, running through a piece.

Hearing him, my fingers froze mid-play. I asked softly, "Is it serious? Are you in any real danger?"

James went quiet for a long moment, the silence stretching between us.

After what seemed like ages, he finally replied, "No."

I glanced out at the dark night outside. "It's late. Can I come see you tomorrow instead?"

James forced the words out, his voice strained. "Emily, I was rushed to the ER."

I nodded, then realized he couldn't see me, so I muttered, "Oh. So you're out now, right?"

After a stretch of total silence, I suddenly heard the sound of something being thrown and shattered over the phone.

My hand on the violin trembled.

Once the noise died down, he finally spoke, his voice frozen: "I'm out now. So, you're still planning to come tomorrow?"

I thought for a moment. "Tomorrow afternoon. I'm busy in the morning-"

But James cut me off, his tone turning icy. "Emily, did you ever love me?"

My expression stiffened instantly.

James sounded so disappointed. "Why are you always so unfazed?

"Why is it that no matter what happens to me, or between us, you never seem to care?"

He paused, then let out a soft laugh. "No, it's not that you're calm. It's that you're indifferent."

I opened my mouth, but my throat was so tight I couldn't say a word.

Time dragged on, feeling like a whole century had passed.

After what felt like forever, I heard James's voice, now calm, with a sigh. "Emily, let's break up."

With a loud thud, my violin slipped from my hands and crashed to the floor.

I jumped up in a panic, and when I crouched down to pick up the violin, I realized my hands were trembling badly.

The call timer kept ticking. I grabbed the violin and slumped back onto the couch.

Outside, the night was so dark it felt like the world had run out of light.

After what felt like forever, I finally whispered, "Okay."

On the other end, James let out a laugh. "Okay? Okay, okay. Is your heart made of stone, Emily?"

After that, James left the country, and we never saw each other again.

Two years together, and we never got to say goodbye face to face.