Disappointment clamps around my chest, but the fear is worse. More suffocating.
I sit on the bench and rest my trembling hands on the keys.
Calm down, Wen. He’s fine. The security’s just too tight, that’s why he didn’t come. Not because something happened to him.
Not because he’s forgotten me.
The second thought slithers from the pit of my insecurities—a visitor that’s been dropping by too often lately.
Three months is long enough for someone to forget you.
I start to play. People paid to hear the music, not to watch the pianist spiral at the piano.
Once the concert ends, I head to my suite, where Eda has gathered the gifts for me. I search for the rose.
“What are you looking for?” Eda asks as I rifle through every bouquet and box.
“Nothing. Just looking for something interesting.” I keep checking.
Maybe he was here. Maybe he left a flower and it got mixed in with the rest.
“Oh, there were so many interesting things, but your bodyguards wouldn’t let any of them through.”
I pause. “Like?”
“Like diamond jewelry. Custom watches.” She laughs. “One man argued with Travis for ten solid minutes to let him in so he could propose to you.”
I chuckle. “Well, those aren’t what I’m looking for.”
Once I’ve checked every flower, I slump onto the couch. Another wave hits—disappointment, fear, insecurity, all at once. I stare at the gifts scattered before me, my head a mess of jumbled thoughts.
I decide not to process them. These thoughts have no end. No conclusion, no matter how much time I spend on them.
I stand and hug Eda. “I should leave now.”
“Stay a little longer.”
I manage a smile. “It’s better to leave on my own than to be dragged out by my brother.”
She laughs. “How could I forget that?”
During my last concert, I didn’t leave my suite for hours. Eventually, Leo came in and dragged me out. We argued for an hour before I left straight for Pa’s house.
The next day, Zo was shot.
Eda walks with me to the door. We head down the hall, bodyguards trailing, toward the guest suite where Leo is waiting.
I stop at the table at the end of my suite hallway—the spot where guards place approved gifts.
I walk toward it and crouch down.
My fingers reach for the lone rose lying there. My hand goes cold as I pick it up.
Still crouching, I stare at the rose. It’s a fresh bloom. A bud, not yet opened. The petals are slightly crumpled, like they’ve traveled a long way to get here.
The longing and happiness this small flower gives me, it fills my whole heart. I smile, pressing it against my chest.
“Is everything all right, miss?” one of my bodyguards asks.
