Chapter 1 of I Was His Secret Until His Muse Returned
On my twenty-ninth birthday, my boyfriend, Cyrus Martin, debuted his new composition at an awards ceremony. He called it "Enduring Affection," symbolizing love and companionship that lasts a lifetime. I thought it was his birthday gift to me.
That illusion crumbled later that evening when, across the Atlantic at a solo concert, pianist Roselyn Bryant performed his new piece. With tears in her eyes, she thanked the audience. "Thank you, Cyrus, for giving me the courage to sit here once again." The camera captured Cyrus sitting there, smiling and applauding. I glanced at my phone, which showed over twenty missed calls from him, and realized I couldn't keep up this charade any longer.
When Cyrus finally called back, it was past midnight—he missed my birthday. His voice came through, nonchalantly, amid a noisy backdrop: "I'm busy. What’s up?"
The words I’d prepared got stuck in my throat. My eyes stung from staring too long at the TV. I asked quietly, "Cyrus, do you remember what today is?" Before he could respond, a sweet, syrupy voice was audible in the background.
"Cyrus, stop calling and help me with this corsage!" I sat before a carefully prepared meal that had gone cold, watching the spiced honey cake lose its shape. The TV showed Cyrus and Roselyn in picture-perfect clarity.
At Roselyn's comeback concert after five years away, Cyrus, as a special guest, had traveled halfway across the continent to pin her corsage. He hesitated, maybe remembering, then said impatiently, "Is tomorrow your birthday? I didn’t forget, but something came up today. I’ve already bought your gift. You can open it yourself. I have things to do..."
He ended the call abruptly and returned to Roselyn’s side, smiling as he held her hand for the press interview.
Roselyn had been a renowned young pianist, whose withdrawal at her career's peak had always made headlines. A reporter asked, "Mr. Martin, during the ceremony, you mentioned that this piece embodies a beautiful meaning of love. Does giving Ms. Bryant exclusive performance rights have special significance?"
"Does 'Enduring Affection' relate to Ms. Bryant's name in any way?"
I stared at the screen, recalling Cyrus at eighteen. We were young and naive; he wore a school uniform and, blushing, placed a ring made from a soda can tab on my finger: "Keily Brooks, when I’m twenty-two, I’ll marry you."
The sunlight made my cheeks warm, and I kicked pebbles on the field, whispering, "Twenty-two is too soon, but thirty is too late."
"Then twenty-nine it is. Deal."
Later, we hustled in this big city, and I took on three part-time jobs to support his dreams, gradually elevating him from an anonymous street performer to a celebrated composer.
At twenty-five, he said, "Keily, I'm still young, and I have a lot of fans. If I marry now, it could hurt my career."
"Wait for me a little longer. Once I'm more established, we can marry."
I understood, and started working behind the scenes, keeping my role as his girlfriend hidden.
Yesterday was finally my twenty-ninth birthday. I hid a ring in a cream cake I couldn’t bring myself to eat—bought with all my savings.
While I was eagerly awaiting this promised birthday celebration, Cyrus seemed distant. I thought he forgot until this morning at the awards ceremony when he unveiled his new piece.
Cyrus stood in the spotlight, sincere: "This piece took five years to complete, representing my dedication and a gift for my beloved. I hope everyone enjoys it."
Thunderous applause filled the room, and I sat in the audience, mouth agape, silently shedding tears. I realized he had remembered, composing a piece about our love as the grandest gift for my twenty-ninth birthday.
But at dinner, I waited, only to hear Cyrus casually say, "Something came up; I won’t be home tonight."
Then the screen showed Roselyn, laughing and radiant: "Without Cyrus, I wouldn’t be here today. He's been a longtime friend—how could that not count as beloved?"
He nodded in agreement: "Enduring Affection signifies the support we've given each other over many years. Between us, there's no need for labels."
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