[Disgusting. Destroying other people’s relationships and playing the victim? Get lost.]
[You're an embarrassment to all the great pianists in the world! Why aren’t you dead yet?]
It felt like the entire world had turned against me. I looked at her, my voice trembling, barely audible over the lump in my throat.
“How could you…?” My voice cracked, and I felt tears welling up in my eyes.
She faltered for a moment, noticing my shallow breathing and my pale, clammy face.
"Can’t you control your strength?" she barked at one of her bodyguards, smacking him across the face.
Then, in an almost contradictory gesture, she crouched down, helped me up, and called for a doctor.
“If you had just apologized earlier,” she said softly, “none of this would’ve happened.”
I stared at her, my chest heaving. My phone buzzed incessantly in my pocket, vibrating with hateful calls and notifications.
One after another, they poured in:
[Why aren’t you dead yet?]
[Go kill yourself, loser.]
[You’re a disgusting fraud. Rot in hell.]
Margot plucked the phone from my pocket and turned it off with an exasperated sigh.
“Don’t listen to them,” she said, almost like she cared.
I let out a bitter laugh. “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?”
Her eyes darted away, avoiding mine. She shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t think it’d go this far,” she murmured. “I’ll fix it, okay? You don’t need to worry about it.”
I glanced down at my broken, unresponsive left hand, the hand that was supposed to be my entire future.
My voice was hollow when I said, “Margot, let’s just end this. Let’s break up.”
She froze. Then her head snapped toward me, her tone sharp and incredulous. “Are you out of your mind?” Her voice rose, almost shrill. “Frank, I said I’ll handle it! What more do you want?”
Her anger only solidified my decision. I forced a small, tired smile. “Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?”
For the first time, she faltered. Her expression softened, and she took a step closer, trying to reel me back in. “Frank, without me, who else would support you? Be realistic. Think it over. Calm down.”
Her usual tactics—manipulation disguised as concern. But I wasn’t falling for it this time.
“I’ve already made up my mind,” I said flatly, refusing to engage any further.
Just then, the doctor called my name for an X-ray. Margot reached out to steady me, as though she planned to come along. But before we could take another step, her phone rang.