The sharp, blinding pain shot through me, and my vision blurred. Everything went dark.
“Hey, Carmichael, you’re nothing but Margot’s discarded trash,” Steven sneered, his voice dripping with mockery as it echoed in my ears.
I clenched my jaw so tightly I could feel the sharp pain radiating up my gums. I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste pooling in my mouth. As much as I wanted to brush off his words, I couldn’t. He wasn’t entirely wrong. At that moment, I did feel like trash—something Margot had used and tossed aside without a second thought.
Once Steven and his gang finally left, I sank to the ground, clutching the broken remnants of my life they’d thrown out. My injured left hand throbbed in agony, but I forced myself to gather what little I could salvage. I staggered out of the villa, leaving behind the place Margot and I had called home for two years.
I returned to my piano studio, my head spinning with defeat. My mind was made up—I would delete all my social media accounts, sell the studio, and leave the country. Maybe somewhere far away, I could heal. Or at least hide from the mess my life had become.
As I sat down at my desk to begin the process, something caught my eye: a private message buried deep in my inbox, dated three months ago.
It was a formal invitation to join their prestigious tour from the World Piano Tour Ensemble.
I froze, my heart skipping a beat. I’d forgotten all about this. At the time, Margot had insisted I put everything aside to compose the piano solo for her new film. I’d shelved the message without a second thought.
Now, with nothing left to lose, I mustered every ounce of courage I had and typed a reply, expressing my willingness to join. Every second after hitting “send” was torture. My scandal was still trending, and the fear that they’d reject me outright gnawed at my insides.
The silence became unbearable. My hands trembled as I recorded a desperate voice message and sent it.
“I was immature before,” I began, my voice cracking. “But I hope your ensemble can give me another chance. The rumors online aren’t true. I wasn’t the one who interfered in someone else’s relationship—it was the other way around…”
Before I could finish explaining, a short voice message popped up in response.
“I know. I believe you.”