She looped her arm through mine with practiced familiarity, gasping in delight. "Mildred! It really is you! I almost didn't recognize you!"
Her smile was radiant.
But her eyes were burning with jealousy.
"I don't mean anything by it—I just never expected to run into you at such a high-end piano shop."
"Oh, and my husband is the sentimental type. If you're ever in trouble, just reach out to him. He'd definitely help."
She drew out that last word, letting it hang in the air.
Wyatt's gaze turned cold. "We just happened to run into each other. Drop it."
But Vera stamped her foot, pouting in mock indignation. "Honey! How can you say that?"
"Mildred was practically my mentor back in the day. If she's struggling now, what's wrong with lending a hand?"
She leaned in and pressed a kiss to Wyatt's cheek. "Didn't you say you'd support me no matter what?"
I understood perfectly. This little performance was for my benefit.
I calmly slipped off Wyatt's jacket and handed it back to her. "You've got the wrong idea. I'm doing just fine."
Her gaze—just like Wyatt's—drifted to my clothes.
I understood immediately. "This outfit was a birthday gift from my mother. I just can't bring myself to throw it away."
At that, Wyatt's brow darkened.
It seemed he still remembered.
The day I fell from the building—that was my birthday.
That day, he'd left me at home alone, emotionally unstable, so he could accompany Vera to a variety show taping. He'd even taken every housekeeper with him because Vera had low blood sugar, positioning them all on standby to attend to her at a moment's notice.
It was my mother who'd been worried enough to come check on me. She was the one who found me after the fall.
All I remembered was her wrapping me in this coat through the haze of fading consciousness. "My sweet girl! How could you do something so foolish!"
"Open your eyes! Look at what Mama bought you for your birthday!"
"You still have your mother!"
"Silly girl, I told you so many times not to choose Wyatt Simmons..."
"Wake up, baby. You're all Mama has left..."
Later, after the divorce, my mother was so furious she went to confront him and demand answers.
She stepped out the door and was hit by a car. She never came back.
Wyatt seemed to snap out of a memory. He exhaled slowly.
He looked almost guilty as he changed the subject. "Mildred, Vera meant well."
"So—where are you working now?"
"If you don't mind, my company could—"
"I'm a piano teacher." I lifted my chin and cut him off. "A student of mine at Harmony Academy won first place in the National Youth Piano Competition this year. I trained her."
My hands could never grace a concert stage again. But I could still teach.
What they didn't know was that I'd become one of the most sought-after piano instructors in the world. People lined up at my door, and most of them still couldn't book a single lesson.
And my daughter was my finest student.
That piano I'd been looking at was simply for her to use during private training sessions at the academy.
When I said this, Wyatt visibly relaxed, as though he finally understood why the slip of paper had Harmony Academy's address on it.
But Vera's smile froze—just for an instant. "Well, congratulations, Mildred."
"Though... a youth piano competition. The prestige isn't quite the same, is it?"
"Not like the national competitions from back in the day..."
She didn't finish.
Because I smiled. "Oh, you're right. Those national competitions—you must remember them vividly."
"After all, you won yours using someone else's compositions."
Vera went rigid. She turned to Wyatt, her eyes brimming with wounded innocence. "Honey, after all these years, Mildred still thinks I stole her—"
