“Oh, you know alright. You’ve always been obsessed with me from the second you got here. I’ll teach you a fucking lesson—if I can’t play, then neither will you!”
Before I can react, she shoves me aside and grabs my violin. It all happens in slow motion. At least it feels like it. Helplessly, I watch as she smashes my instrument against the wall, the crack of wood echoing in my ears. She yells as she moves to do it again and again…and I sit paralyzed as I watch it happen.
Finally, she throws my violin to the floor, and I stare wide-eyed at the mess it’s become. The strings are all mangled up, and the wood broken.
Tears crowd my eyes. This was my first professional violin, the one that my grandfather purchased for me right before I got this job. Now, it’s ruined. “Oh!”
I sink to my knees, ignoring the murmurs around me as a crowd has gathered. My fingers are trembling as I reach for the broken violin and gently lift it, carefully tracing the broken wood as if that’ll magically fix it. I reach for the bow, heart aching when I see the broken hairs.
Tears well up in my eyes, blurring my vision, and I turn to look up at Darla—confused about what I did to deserve such a violent response from her. Slowly, I get up with my fingers clenched around my broken violin.
“You are a sad, pathetic excuse of a human being,” I tell her even as the tears fall. “If you bombed the audition, then it’s your own fault. Your musicality is as underdeveloped as a minor scale in a major key.” I sniff, fed up. “So what if you wentto Juilliard? All that college tuition wasted and your musical expression is still basic!”
“You bitch!” she seethes. I see the slap coming from miles away, so I brace for it, closing my eyes in anticipation, but it never lands. “What the fuck, let go of me!”
I open my eyes to see Darla’s hand suspended in the air, a strong hand gripping her wrist. I blink up at Hawk, who stands above me, a vein popping in his head and the rage clear in his expression. “I don’t hurt women, but you need to be careful who you lay your hands on, lady.”
He’s here.
“Hawk,” I whisper, rising up from the ground. My first instinct is to run to him, to seek comfort for the pain in my chest, but when I take a step forward, I realize something.
He’s here.
Hawk isn’t supposed to be here! The court hearing is at ten, and it’s barely past that. Did something happen?
“Who the fuck are you?” Darla hisses, trying to yank her hand away, but she can’t budge, and I see the first hint of fear in her eyes.
“I’m Amelia’s husband,” he says, causing more murmurs to break out in the waiting room. “And I won’t have my wife mistreated and disrespected.”
“Let go of me!” Darla yells even as someone else in the room speaks up.
“I already called the cops. They’re on their way!”
Darla is heaving and I see the panic in her eyes as she looks around the room for support, but no one steps forward. Even her friends sit back in silence and watch as the orchestradirector and conductor step forward. They must have entered the room from the audition space as soon as they heard the commotion. Now, they’re practically shaking with rage as they confront Darla, telling her that she’s obviously fired, and calling a security guard to take Darla away to wait for the cops.
When they’re gone, Hawk comes over to me, concern written in his eyes. “Baby, are you okay?” he whispers, cupping my jaw even as his eyes drop to the broken violin. “Fuck, did she do that?”
I nod, but I can’t focus on my own heartbreak when he’s here. He’s not supposed to be here. Unwilling to ask the question and entertain the people watching us, I take his hand and pull him outside, walking down the corridor to a spot where no one will hear us.
“Why are you here?” I ask, panicked. “Did they move the court date? What happened?”
“Now’s not the time—”
“Please, tell me.”
“The hearing was canceled,” he says. “Wren’s biological mother was found dead this morning from a drug overdose.”
“W-what?” I gasp, my heart breaking for the woman but mostly for Wren. I know all too well what it’s like to lose a mother, and now Wren will never even remember hers. “That’s terrible news.”
“I know,” he says. “I wanted to keep Wren, but not at this cost.”
This feels so fast and sudden, but isn’t everything like that with us? Christ, after everything Hawk did to prepare for the custody battle…is this the end? Heck, he married his neighbor to keep his daughter. Now he doesn’t have to worry about themother fighting for custody, so does that mean he’s done with me? With this marriage?
“What happens now?” I ask, terrified of his answer. Anticipating it.
He sighs, brushing a finger down my hair. “Right now, we’re going to find a way to get you a new violin. You’re not missing out on that audition.”
My heart swells at his words. It’s not a love declaration, but it’s not a rejection either.
