“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.”
The voice was soft and gentle, with an air of familiarity that stopped me in my tracks. I sat there frozen, replaying it repeatedly, trying to place where I’d heard it before. Just as I was about to give up, another message arrived:
“You’re not alone. Wait for me—I’ll come get you.”
The words hit me like a warm hug, wrapping around my battered heart. That night, I listened to those two voice messages on repeat, letting the kindness in that voice lull me into my first peaceful sleep in weeks.
...
The next morning, I woke up with a renewed sense of purpose. I reached out to a real estate agent to put the piano studio up for sale.
The damage caused by the online scandal was beyond repair. Parents were pulling their kids from lessons, demanding refunds. It was clear the studio was a sinking ship, and I was ready to let it go.
Margot had bought the studio for me back when she still cared—or at least when she wanted to appear like she cared. Now, I just wanted to give it all back to her. Every penny she’d spent on me over the years was converted into cash, carefully collected, and deposited onto a single bank card. I wanted no part of her lingering in my life. No debts. No ties. A clean break.
But as I packed up the studio, old memories crept in, uninvited. I couldn’t shake the thought of how Margot had once been my salvation. Back when my parents’ tragic deaths had turned me into the town’s favorite punching bag, she’d been the only one to stand by me.
I could still remember the way she marched into my life like a warrior, standing up for me when no one else would. She brought in the Kent family to help clear my father’s name, defying her own family in the process. For a while, she was my light, my hope.
But the woman she was back then was gone, replaced by someone I didn’t recognize anymore. Now, all I wanted was to move on and become strangers—familiar strangers, nothing more.
The day I moved into my new place, Margot somehow managed to slip past the paparazzi and find me. She strolled in, looking as self-assured as ever, arms crossed and a smug smile playing on her lips.
“So, after hiding out all this time, you’ve finally come to your senses, huh?” Her voice was practically dripping with superiority. “Let me guess—you’ve decided to apologize?”
I stared at her blankly, then gave her the barest of nods. “Yeah, I’ve thought things through.”
The confirmation seemed to delight her. Her grin widened, the self-satisfaction practically oozing from her.
“I knew it,” she gloated. “In the end, you’d come crawling back. If you’d just apologized earlier, I wouldn’t have let Steven mess with your stuff.”
She cocked her head, pretending to pity me. “You’re so stubborn, Frank. Look at what you’ve done to yourself. Look at how pathetic you are.”
Her words were like acid, but this time, they didn’t burn the way they used to. I simply gave her a faint smile, my voice steady and calm.
“You’re right. I’ve been stubborn. That’s why I’m finally cutting you out of my life—for good.”
