3 years later.
In a major theater back home, Adrian sat in a private box on the second floor, his gaze fixed on center stage.
Tonight was the final stop on the Bellmont Royal Symphony's tour.
Beneath the spotlight, I wore a formal gown and played with my eyes closed, completely immersed in the melody.
The bow fell and rose. Light glided over my shoulder with each movement, so bright that Adrian's eyes began to ache.
He leaned back and unconsciously rubbed an old cuff link on his sleeve.
Natalie had given it to him as a birthday present 5 years earlier.
For 3 years, he followed her to every public performance.
He didn't dare come close.
He only dared to sit in a corner and watch her again and again.
He watched the pale woman who could barely walk after giving birth slowly become t
