At once, the room plunged into a suffocating silence.
Laughter vanished on the spot, with no one daring to make a sound.
Shane reached for a napkin and hurriedly dabbed at the water that had splashed near his cufflink.
Ten years earlier—on his first birthday after Melinda disappeared without so much as a goodbye—he had received that very pair of cufflinks.
They had no brand name and weren't worth even a fraction of the cheapest accessory he owned.
He had tried calling Melinda then, but her number was already out of service.
She had simply erased herself from his life, leaving no trace behind.
For an entire decade after that, Shane heard no word from her.
The cufflinks had faded with time, but he never understood why he couldn't bring himself to throw them away.
As Shane was about to say something, Jeff reached out and gave his shoulder a light pat. "Melinda's dead?"
"Yeah," someone answered. "She went overseas after high school. A few years back, there was that plane crash in Buevine. They recovered a violin from the wreckage, and her name was on it. It had to belong to her."
"We don't see these kinds of coincidences every day," another said.
Shane felt his breath hitch.
The private room became so quiet it seemed every inhale and exhale was audible.
Every eye settled on Shane.
His face remained composed, but his fingers trembled uncontrollably.
Jeff lifted his glass, attempting to break the tension. "Alright, enough of that. Let's drink."
For the next hour or so, Shane stayed tucked away at one side of the round table, emptying one glass after another.
The chatter around him dissolved into a dull haze. But inside his head, the sound of a violin played on repeat.
It was obvious to anyone watching that something was wrong with Shane.
Small groups of former classmates leaned together, whispering under their breath.
"Are you trying to get yourself killed, bringing up Melinda in front of Shane?"
"Didn't you hear? She used to go after Shane."
"That wasn't 'going after' him. It was just pathetic. Watch how you talk."
"She really had the nerve. Shane's family already chose his future wife—Averie from the Willis family."
"And look at Melinda. So rundown. Depending on her uncle, yet she actually thought she belonged among high society."
Up on the third-floor open-air terrace, Leanna was deep in conversation with her former boss from the part-time job she'd worked ten years earlier.
She had saved every bit she could from that job to buy the violin, a violin she barely dared touch herself. And yet, to Shane, it had never meant anything at all.
The owner slid a worn black wallet across the counter toward her. "Here. This should be yours. Check and see if anything's missing."
He had already gone through it. Inside were a couple of old photo booth strips from her school years and a few bills folded neatly together.
Leanna accepted the wallet with both hands and went still for a brief second.
She remembered buying it back when she was still in school. Not long after, it had vanished, and no matter how much she searched, she couldn't find it. She never imagined she'd left it behind at the restaurant where she used to work part-time.
She thanked him sincerely and took the wallet with her.
By nine o'clock, Leanna was heading downstairs to leave when a figure suddenly emerged from the corner near the stairwell.
Startled, she stepped back on instinct, only to bump straight into him.
Two identical wallets landed on the floor.
Before she could crouch down, the man bent first, picked up the wallet on the left, and held it out to her.
She lifted her head and met Shane's eyes. They were hazy, dulled by alcohol, and the sharp scent of liquor clung to him.
"Thank you," she said, quickly taking the wallet from his hand.
It hadn't even been that long, yet somehow she had been running into Shane almost every day.
Back when they were together, she hadn't even seen him this often.
Shane seemed completely unaware of her presence. He didn't even show any sign of recognition.
He slipped the wallet on the right into the pocket of his suit jacket and walked off in a hurry. His long strides carried him down the corridor, his figure lengthening into a solitary shadow against the empty hallway.
By the time the sound of his footsteps disappeared, Leanna was still standing there, staring after him, the faint smell of alcohol lingering in the air.
Shane was usually careful and controlled. He rarely drank to excess.
Was anything wrong with him?
When she realized she had started worrying about him again, Leanna gave her head a small shake, pushing the thought aside.
After returning home, she finished getting ready for bed and turned in early.
A knock sounded at the door. Rhonda walked in and casually tossed the wallet onto Leanna's bed. "Melinda, don't leave your wallet by the door."
"Alright, Grandma," Leanna replied, sitting up as she reached for it.
A business card fell out.
Printed on it was "Shane Lloyd, Chief of Breast Surgery."
