Chapter 3

Sometimes, I really hate the words "next time."

Because Ethan always managed to convince me that the next time would be different. And I, like a fool, kept believing him.

Lucy's violin solo was scheduled for Friday afternoon.

She had been practicing that single piece for two whole months. Every day after school, the first thing she did was pick up her violin. Even when her tiny fingertips turned red and sore, she refused to take a break.

I once asked her why she was working so hard.

She held her violin tight, smiling a bit shyly. "Because Daddy has never heard me play a full song before. This time, I want him to be the very first person to hear it."

I stayed quiet, glancing toward the kitchen. Ethan was pouring himself a cup of coffee, and he heard her.

He turned around and held his hand up to Lucy. "I promise. This time, Dad will be sitting right in the front row."

Lucy was so thrilled she almost dropped her violin. She rushed over and threw her arms around Ethan's waist. "You promised!"

"I know," he laughed, ruffling her hair affectionately.

Yet in that brief moment, a nameless anxiety tightened its grip on my chest.

On the afternoon of the performance, I arrived at the school auditorium thirty minutes early.

Lucy was dressed in a delicate little white dress. She kept standing backstage, peeking out from behind the velvet curtain.

"Mom, is Dad here yet?"

I glanced toward the entrance. "Not yet, sweetie. But there's still plenty of time."

A bright smile broke across her face. "Daddy said he'd sit in the front row."

I smiled back and nodded, but my hand instinctively reached for my phone.

No messages. No missed calls. Nothing.

The auditorium grew increasingly crowded, and the front row was almost completely filled. I had deliberately saved a seat right next to me for Ethan, placing Lucy's small bouquet of flowers on it.

She had said she wanted to give those flowers to her dad right after the performance. Ethan had taken the afternoon off for this. He had said today was Lucy's big day.

The announcer stepped up to the microphone.

"Our next performer is Lucy Bennett," came the teacher's voice from backstage.

Lucy took a deep breath and walked over to me. "Mom, is Daddy here?"

I stared at the vacant chair next to me, remaining silent for two agonizing seconds. "He's... probably on his way."

Lucy nodded bravely, then picked up her violin and walked out onto the stage.

The spotlight landed on her small frame. She instinctively glanced toward the front row.

I knew who she was searching for.

Then, her eyes landed on the empty seat beside me. She froze for a split second before pulling herself together and taking her stance.

The teacher nodded at her.

The music began.

Lucy played brilliantly—even better than during her endless practice sessions at home. Every single note was precise and clear. But I couldn't process a single melody.

My eyes were glued to the auditorium doors. Every time the heavy doors shifted even slightly, my heart would leap, and I'd look up automatically.

I kept telling myself: He'll make it. Even if there's only one minute left, he'll make it.

But until the final note echoed through the hall and faded away, those doors never opened again.

Applause broke out across the room.

Lucy took a bow toward the audience, her eyes stealing one last glance at the front row. The small bouquet meant for her father was still sitting quietly on the empty seat.

Nobody had touched it. Nobody had picked it up.

Holding her violin tightly, she walked off the stage step by step, a smile still fixed on her face. Her teacher praised her for doing an amazing job, and her classmates gathered around to clap for her. She politely thanked everyone, acting no different than usual.

Only I knew that she didn't ask the one question that was tearing her apart: Why didn't Dad come?

After the show, as I was getting ready to take Lucy home, my phone finally rang.

It was Ethan. I hit answer.

"Sorry, Nora," his voice sounded hurried over the noisy background.

"Ethan, where are you?"

"I'm at Ava's place."

My heart sank into a dark abyss. "Ethan... today was Lucy's solo."

"I know," he fell silent for a moment. "Ben's teacher called out of nowhere saying he got into a fight with a classmate. Ava couldn't handle it on her own. Nora, you know they really need help right now."

I closed my eyes, suddenly at a complete loss for words.

Every single excuse he offered was valid. Yet added together, these valid excuses amounted to a repeated, deliberate choice to abandon Lucy time and time again.

I hung up the phone and turned around.

Lucy was standing right behind me, holding her slightly wilted bouquet of flowers. She looked up and gave me a quiet smile.

"Is Daddy helping someone again?"

I froze. "...Yeah."

Lucy nodded softly. "Let's go home then." She hugged the flowers a little tighter to her chest. "When Daddy isn't busy, I can play it for him then."

I stared at her small, frail back.

It struck me then that some children aren't born mature and understanding. They just gradually learn... that expecting too much only leads to heartbreak.