Chapter 4
Right after I sent the message, Alisha dropped me a screenshot from her Instagram.
She was in that white performance dress, posing by my piano.
The caption read: [So grateful someone gets my dreams.]
Cayson had given it a like.
Alisha's art show was at the new gallery in the south of the city.
When I got there, the red carpet and flower baskets stretched halfway down the street.
The one that stood out the most was from Cayson.
It even had "Exclusive Sponsor" written on it.
Alisha was surrounded by people, everyone congratulating her on the success of her art show and on being pregnant with the Lawrence family's child.
Without thinking, I touched my stomach.
Cayson and I had a kid before.
In our second year of marriage, I was six weeks along.
He flew overseas for Alisha, and when I rushed angrily to the airport, someone tripped me.
I lost the baby.
The doctor said getting pregnant again would be tough for me.
Cayson, eyes red, fell to the ground by my hospital bed and swore.
"It doesn't matter if we never have kids. All I want is you."
So it wasn't that he didn't care, it was just that he found someone else to carry his child for him.
I walked into the gallery.
Right in the center stood a white piano.
The paint looked freshly applied.
The thick layer of paint had completely hidden the old wood grain my dad once cherished.
The sign said this was an installation artwork by Alisha, drawn from her childhood memories.
I reached out and touched the side of the piano.
The crescent-shaped scratch was gone.
It had been smoothed over, and a metal nameplate was now fixed in its place.
My fingertips lingered there.
A soft voice came from behind me.
"Isabella, you're here!"
Alisha was wearing my mom's white dress.
The hem was cut shorter, and the pearls my mom had stitched on were swapped out for shiny sequins.
She walked up to me, her hand resting on her belly.
"Cayson said since you're not performing anymore, it'd just go to waste if it was left unused, so he let me have it!"
I grabbed at her dress furiously.
I snapped, "Take it off."
Alisha clutched her dress desperately, her eyes welling up with tears.
She asked, "Are you still upset with me?
"I can give the dress back to you, but with all these people around, I can't just strip it off right here, can I?"
Everyone started staring at us.
Cayson hurried out of the crowd, stepping protectively in front of Alisha.
"Isabella, what are you trying to do now?" he snapped.
I jabbed a finger at the piano.
"That's my father's legacy, and the dress she's wearing was meant for me from my mom, not something for her to flaunt or ruin!"
Alisha pursed her lips and mumbled quietly.
"I'm the one who brought it back into the spotlight. You should be thanking me!"
I reached out, ready to rip the flowers off the piano lid.
Cayson lunged forward and clamped down on my wrist.
"That's enough," he said.
His tone was cold and threatening.
"Today's Alisha's biggest day. Don't make a scene here."
"Make a scene?" I shot back.
I let out a bitter laugh.
"Cayson, you used my dad's piano to show her off, my mom's dress for her big debut, and the money I made singing to save your life, and you used it to pay her rent.
"And now you're calling me crazy?"
His hand froze in midair.
Alisha's tears spilled over as she looked at Cayson, her eyes full of hurt and pleading.
She said softly, "Cayson, let's just drop it.
"If it matters so much to Isabella, I'll just call off the show!"
As she spoke, she reached for the main switch to shut down the whole gallery.
Cayson immediately let go of me and went to steady her.
"Why are you getting caught up in this mess?" he said.
His tone was gentle.
"You're pregnant. You need to stay calm."
I stared at him from the side.
Suddenly, I remembered the day we lost our baby.
I lay in that hospital bed, cold to the bone.
He held my hand the same way and said, "Don't cry. You still have me."
But now, his hand belonged to someone else.
The child that was once mine had become nothing more than his reason to console someone else.
But then Alisha suddenly turned to me.
She asked, "Isabella, still itching to sing?
"A bunch of big names from the industry showed up today. Why not get up there and sing one?"
She flashed an innocent grin.
"Think of it as a little boost for my exhibition."
She casually flaunted the jade bracelet on her wrist right in front of me.
One bead had a delicate pale blue butterfly etched into it.
I recognized it in a heartbeat, it was my mom's jade pendant.
It used to be hidden away at the very bottom of my jewelry box back home.
I snatched her wrist.
"Where did you get this?" I snapped.
Alisha flinched, tears instantly springing to her eyes.
"Isabella, Cayson gave it to me. Please, don't be angry!" she whimpered.
Cayson's expression darkened.
He tried to play it down, "Isabella, it's just a trinket.
"Alisha's been having terrible morning sickness. I heard jade is supposed to be good for your health, so I gave it to her to wear."
Just a trinket.
My mom pressed this into my hand as she was dying.
He called it just a trinket.
I couldn't hold back anymore.
I yanked the jade bracelet right off her wrist.
The beads went flying everywhere, crashing across the floor.
Alisha yelped in surprise and nearly fell over.
Cayson darted over and swept her into his arms.
He shoved me out of the way, and my lower back hit the sharp corner of the piano hard.
The pain was so sharp, my vision went black for a second.
Cayson was holding Alisha tight in his arms, frantically yelling.
"Doctor. Get a doctor!"
Alisha was buried in his arms, her face hidden deep against his chest.
But I saw it.
Her lips curled up in a subtle, secretive smile.
I steadied myself against the piano, my hand pressed flat against the lid.
The next second, the lid suddenly collapsed.
Inside, it was completely empty.
All the strings had been ripped out.
All that was left of my dad's piano was just an empty shell, painted white.