Linus's voice dripped with disdain as he proclaimed, “I’ve reached this point relying solely on my own talent.”

He went on, “She can only cling to my fame and now that she’s getting older, she hardly holds any value!”

My gaze drifted back to the stage, where Themis stood beside him, radiating uncontainable joy.

The spotlight enveloped them, painting a picture of a perfectly matched duo.

In that fleeting moment, my phone was notified, announcing that my visa had been approved.

I was halfway through packing my bags at home when Linus stepped through the door.

He tossed a half-bottle of brown medicine my way. “This is for you.”

I picked it up, recognizing the iodine tincture I had seen in Themis's social media posts, where Linus had used it to treat her wounds.

But I was allergic to iodine tincture.

When Linus debuted at eighteen, his extraordinary talent took the world by storm, drawing attention like a beacon in the night.

A powerful figure in the industry, threatened by his rise, conspired to ruin his hands.

In those days, I had impulsively stepped in front of Linus to protect him from harm.

Though I emerged with only minor injuries, a colleague in the orchestra had inadvertently treated my wounds with iodine tincture.

The allergic reaction hit me like a tidal wave, sending me into shock and resulting in a frantic rush to the hospital, where I endured nearly a full day of surgery to be saved.

Colleagues whispered that while my condition had been critical, Linus had lingered outside the operating room, tears streaming down his face for as long as I remained in danger.

When he finally returned, however, Linus was in a storm of fury. He tossed every bottle of iodine tincture in the orchestra into the trash and decreed that it would never be used again.

I never imagined he would break that very rule himself.

Lowering my gaze, I discarded the iodine tincture into the trash can.

Linus noticed my action and let out a cold, dismissive snort. “Use it if you want; don’t if you don’t!”

Just then, a WhatsApp notification chimed and Linus glanced at his phone, his expression softening once more.

He gently reminded me, “Little one, be sure to keep your wound dry. You need to avoid certain foods for a while. Once you’re feeling better, I’ll take you out for something delicious.”

Perhaps taken aback by my unusual silence, Linus stole several glances my way.

At last, he spoke, his tone steady. “What transpired today was simply to set an example. You know all too well that the orchestra is rife with dirt.”

“The way I punished you was intended to send a warning to others.”

“Now that I’m caring for Themis, it’s also to shield you from idle gossip.”

I nodded, choosing silence over argument. “I understand.”

Linus appeared taken aback, a curious warmth spreading through him.

He seemed ready to say more, but I had already stepped into the bathroom to gather my personal items.

In the glaring light of the sink, a pair of pink lace underwear, clearly not mine, lay conspicuously, an unwelcome reminder of hidden secrets.

Just outside the door, Linus's phone chimed with a voice message, declaring, “Linus, I forgot to take back the little underwear I changed in your bathroom this morning.”

“Could you please bring it over for me? And I just adore the scent of your shower gel; could you send me a bottle, too?”

Suddenly, everything made sense; Linus had worn a shirt color that was far from his usual choice this morning.

The fragrant shower gel clinging to him was also from a brand he typically reserved for special occasions.

He truly listened to her every word.

As Linus absorbed the message, he hurriedly made his way toward me.

Upon entering the room, he was greeted by the sight of me and the pink underwear nestled beside me.

His gaze appeared slightly unfocused as he explained, “In the morning, Themis couldn’t change, so I let her freshen up here.”

“Okay.” I offered little more than a nod, stepping aside to grant him space.

As Linus gathered the intimate clothing, he was about to leave when he abruptly paused. “If you’re going to overthink this, then I won’t take you with me.”

I waved my hand dismissively, signaling it wasn’t a big deal.

Linus hesitated for a moment, caught between his thoughts, just as Themis called out to him again, urging him on.

After hanging up, he looked at me and said, “I’ll be back after I drop her off. Make an appointment; we’ll pick up the marriage certificate tomorrow.”

With that, he hurried out the door.

Once everything was packed, I scrolled through my social media, casually passing the time.

Themis had posted again; the first photo captured a slender hand testing the water temperature at the edge of a bathtub.

The second photo was a selfie of Themis, her profile illuminated by the light as a man focused on washing her hair in the background.

[Brother said my hand can't touch water because I’m injured, so he has to help me wash my hair and bathe. Why do I feel a little shy about this?]

I shifted my bandaged hand slightly and cast one last lingering glance at the house I had shared with Linus for eight years.

Just then, Linus’s text message arrived. [Something came up; I can’t come back. Cancel the marriage certificate appointment for tomorrow.]

I reassured myself that it was fine since I hadn’t actually made an appointment.

With my luggage in tow, I stepped out the door and hailed a taxi bound for the airport.

As the plane soared into the sky, I sent Linus a text to end things between us and then switched off my phone.

Part 3

As the plane soared through the sky, I surrendered to an unparalleled depth of sleep, each moment a soothing escape.

Upon my arrival at the airport, the foreign orchestra embraced me with warm enthusiasm.

“Welcome, Miss Morris!”

“It’s a true privilege to welcome a talent like yours into our orchestra!”

Henry Bradley, the owner, effusively praised my abilities and the members gazed at me as if I were a beacon of inspiration.

This kind of recognition was a rarity; I had never encountered such admiration in my homeland.

In the past, whenever praise was heaped upon me, Linus's frown would dim the moment like a dark cloud.

No one wanted to ruffle his feathers and I certainly didn't wish to see him unhappy.

Over time, I became a mere shadow within the orchestra, acknowledged only when my name was linked to Linus's.

Henry then introduced me to the pianist I would collaborate with, marking a significant step in my new journey.

The man, exuding a gentlemanly charm, extended his hand toward me, his face stirring a flicker of recognition. “Hello, Miss Morris. I’m Jarren Morgan. It’s a pleasure to work with you.”

In that moment, memories washed over me. Jarren had been the runner-up in the competition where Linus had first made his mark ten years ago.

Since then, Jarren had dedicated himself to perfecting his craft, earning accolades both at home and abroad, his talent now rivaling that of Linus.

I felt a thrill at the prospect of collaborating with such an accomplished artist.

After a delightful welcome dinner arranged by Henry, I settled into the apartment provided by the orchestra.

With everything in place, I finally had a moment to glance at my phone.

Dozens of missed calls, WhatsApp messages and voice notes flooded my notifications, almost overwhelming my device.

Every one of them was from Linus.

[What do you mean you’re breaking up with me? Who authorized you to change my new manager without a word?]

[Naia, is this your new scheme?]

[It makes sense now why you’ve been so quiet, just putting on a show. I noticed you took down all the wedding photos from your social media; I completely underestimated you!]