Chapter 1
Eight years after the divorce, I ran into Edward Shaw at an art gallery.
He'd become a famous opera master, while I was scrubbing glass in a filthy cleaning uniform.
After an awkward silence, I managed a hello.
He asked me out for coffee.
I politely declined.
As I turned to leave, he suddenly stopped me.
"Claire, you seem different now."
I smiled.
"Not really. I just don't have that 20-year obsession anymore."
*****
My eyes fell on his perfectly tailored suit. His lingered on the oil stain on my sleeve.
We locked eyes, both awkward.
The gallery director broke the silence, rushing over with an ornate opera costume.
"Mr. Shaw, here's the new costume you ordered for Mrs. Shaw.
"Hand-embroidered with real gemstones, just like you wanted."
He grinned. "Coming out in this downpour to pick it up yourself? You truly care for Mrs. Shaw."
Edward took the costume and instinctively glanced at me.
He shrugged. "Julia's a clean freak. She needs a new costume every few wears."
I nodded, my voice flat. "Must've cost a fortune. Mrs. Shaw will look gorgeous in it."
Edward held my gaze.
"There's a café upstairs. Join me for coffee?"
I smiled, shook my head, and took a step back.
Edward walked to the door, then turned back.
"Claire, you seem different now."
Back then, every invitation from him felt like a royal summons.
I never said no to anything he asked.
That was probably the first time he'd ever heard the word "no" from me.
Simple reason: the love was gone.
*****
After my shift, I was surprised to find Edward waiting outside.
Rain poured down in sheets.
"It's pouring. Let me drive you home."
"No, thanks."
I sidestepped his umbrella.
"You should save that for your wife's costume, Mr. Shaw."
With that, I pulled out my own umbrella and walked into the rain alone.
I thought I heard him call after me, but the rain swallowed his words.
The wind was so strong that my umbrella broke within a few steps.
I tossed it in the trash and let the storm hit me.
Suddenly, I remembered—the day we divorced, it rained just as hard.
Outside the courthouse, he refused my umbrella and got into Julia's car without looking back.
Eight years had passed.
It was in the third year that I truly let him go.
No crushing pain. No hysteria like when we first split.
I was calm as a mountain lake, and he was a stone at the bottom—present, but causing no ripples.
When I got home, my roommate Evelyn Stone greeted me.
"Claire, the cat knocked over that box on the shelf."
I crouched down to clean up the scattered mess.
My hand stopped on an old photo.
I wiped off the dust. The image cleared.
The Scholar, Jade, and Sapphire in full costume.
Evelyn leaned in, pointed at the Scholar, and exclaimed, "Oh my god! That's Edward Shaw, the opera master! I've seen him perform!"
She flipped the photo over.
Faded handwriting: [Edward Shaw, Claire Moore. 2012—A keepsake from the show.]
"Oh my god! Claire!"
Evelyn stared at me, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"You actually performed with Edward Shaw? Who are you, really?"
I ripped the photo to shreds, expressionless.
"I'm his ex-wife."
The paranoid, unstable, possessive one who did time for a crime.
The ex-wife he considered the biggest mistake of his life.
"My dad found Edward and brought him home when he was just seven or eight, his skin blue from the cold."
Dad ran an opera troupe that performed in alleys across town. He saw Edward's raw talent immediately.
Under Dad's guidance, Edward was onstage by ten, playing lead roles at 14. By 16, he was a legend in opera circles, his awards piling up.
After Edward became famous, his birth parents—who'd abandoned him years before—suddenly reappeared.
But he came to my father and declared, "I know who's been good to me.
"You're the only dad I'll ever have.
"I'll take care of you and Claire."
Dad treated Edward like his own son and even wrote a custom opera for us—Sapphire's Crossing.
Sapphire's Crossing was an adaptation of the classic The Jade.
Instead of Jade as the heroine, Sapphire took center stage, with Jade as a supporting character.
I played Sapphire. Edward played the Scholar.
On opening night, Edward wore the Scholar's simple gown and took my hand.
"Claire, on stage or off, I'll always protect you."
The premiere caused a sensation.
That performance earned us spots in the nation's top opera troupe as leading performers.
When we married, newspapers ran the headline: [The Scholar finally marries Sapphire.]
Edward faced the cameras, eyes blazing. "Without Sapphire, there is no Scholar.
"Claire, I'll never leave you."
Edward was stubborn. Once he decided something, nothing could change his mind.
That was how he was with opera.
How he loved me.
And how he was when he cheated.