Chapter 2 Playing the Piano

A hollow ache spread through Aria's chest, as if someone had scooped out her insides.

Just then, her friend called. Hearing about the impending divorce, she insisted Aria come out for drinks.

They hadn't touched alcohol at their afternoon gathering.

Aria agreed.

Maybe getting drunk would make the pain stop.

The hallway of the upscale lounge was quiet. Aria checked room numbers as she walked, then suddenly heard her own name.

She froze mid-step.

"Aria's disability is permanent. When are you going to divorce her, Larry?"

"Sure, she saved your life back then, but you've given her enough money to buy ten new hands! Why throw your whole life away?"

"Now that Sophie's back, Larry—kick Aria to the curb!"

Different male voices, all slurred with alcohol.

Aria recognized them—Larry's friends.

She couldn't help edging closer to the private room door, listening intently.

These people were trashing her. How would Larry respond?

Even if he didn't love her, she was still his wife.

Husband and wife were supposed to be a unit. Surely he'd defend her.

But she heard no response from Larry. Instead, Sophie Miller's sweet voice chimed in.

"Oh, stop teasing! You can't ask Larry to divorce for my sake."

"Sophie, you don't know—back in college, Aria had her eyes on Larry. The second you went abroad, she swooped in."

"If she hadn't leveraged that hand injury to guilt-trip him, Larry never would've married her!"

Aria stood rigid, listening.

It had only been a few years, and already Larry's circle was rewriting history.

Did he believe this too? That she'd been scheming all along?

She desperately wanted to burst in right now and demand a divorce.

The moment the thought formed, the door swung open.

Someone coming out for the restroom nearly jumped out of their skin at finding Aria standing there.

The lively room fell silent.

Larry sat at the head of the table, looking thoughtful.

As if seriously considering what they'd just said.

Aria's eyes burned.

She fought back tears but couldn't find words.

The others hadn't expected her to be there. Remembering what they'd just said, they exchanged awkward glances.

After a brief, uncomfortable silence, Sophie stood.

"Aria! It's been ages. Come in, we're reminiscing about college."

She'd been sitting right beside Larry, her red silk dress bold and radiant.

By comparison, Aria's hoodie and jeans made her look like an ugly duckling beside a swan.

"We were just talking about you." Sophie approached naturally, reaching to pull her inside.

As if they'd been the best of friends back then.

In reality, they'd barely exchanged three sentences in four years of college.

"Remember how beautifully you played Swan Lake? Come play something for us again."

She grabbed Aria's left hand.

Aria had no intention of going in.

The refusal was on her lips when a sharp pain made her gasp instead.

Sophie's grip was strong—she'd squeezed right on the scar tissue.

It hurt like hell. Aria jerked her hand away.

Making it look like she was rejecting Sophie's touch.

Sophie's expression immediately turned wounded.

"I'm sorry." She glanced at Larry carefully. "I just wanted Aria to hang out with us."

"Aria, why won't you come in?" Larry finally stood.

When he looked at her, his expression had returned to its usual detachment.

"Sophie didn't mean anything by it. No need to be so defensive."

Aria's hand was still throbbing.

Sophie had grabbed her injured left hand. Larry had seen it.

But of course he'd ignore that, only caring about Sophie's feelings.

Not only would he not defend her—he'd defend someone else right in front of her.

What had she been hoping for?

"Go play something," he said again, his tone lightening as if joking.

"You were practicing at home just the other day, weren't you?"

At Larry's words, the room's energy picked up again.

"Oh, so Aria's been preparing!"

"Planning a comeback?"

Several men joined in the teasing, their laughter edged with obvious mockery.

Of course, Larry wouldn't catch that. Only Aria would feel the barbs.

Over the years, she'd practiced piano nearly every day.

But always when Larry wasn't home. She didn't want anyone hearing how her injured hand made her playing go off-key.

Yet somehow, that one day, Larry had come home unexpectedly and walked in on her.

He'd said nothing at the time. She'd thought he hadn't cared. Never imagined he'd bring it up in a setting like this.

Her cheeks and eyes burned simultaneously.

"I don't want to play." After they'd laughed their fill, she said quietly.

Her throat felt blocked. Even trying to control it, her voice came out wrong.

To her surprise, Sophie looked hurt. "It's my fault for bringing it up. Aria, I'm sorry."

Her voice caught slightly, dripping with pitiable fragility.

Sure enough, everyone rushed to her defense.

"Aria, Sophie was just making conversation. She didn't mean anything. Don't be upset."

"Come on, have a drink. Let's all get along."

Aria wanted to look at Larry but didn't dare.

As her husband, he'd always noticed her smallest emotional shifts.

But today Sophie was here.

So he wouldn't care.

Even as everyone tried to smooth things over, Larry's stance was unusually firm.

"Aria, we're all together for once. Go play something."

Aria's eyes snapped up to meet his.

Her eyes glistened but no tears fell, her long lashes trembling as she fought to suppress her hurt.

Larry might have noticed. Or maybe he hadn't. Right now, all he cared about was Sophie's request.

"Go ahead. It's fine."

Moving closer, he lowered his voice persuasively. "You play beautifully. They won't say anything. Do me this favor, hmm?"

That magnetic baritone had once captivated her.

Now it felt like a dull knife sawing at her heart.

She knew perfectly well these people wanted to humiliate her. But with Larry asking like this, how could she refuse?

Aria closed her eyes, her heart sinking into despair. "Fine."

If she didn't play, she'd be petty, refusing to give him face.

If she did play—and played badly—she'd only humiliate herself.

She sat at the digital piano in the corner of the room.

Taking a deep breath, Aria tried to steady her emotions.

It was useless. Her left hand trembled even more violently.

Music flowed like water. She left out sections, relying mostly on her right hand. But the few times she had to use her left for chords, the notes went off-key.

Everyone present had been music majors. Even the few who'd studied finance with Larry knew their stuff.

So they caught every mistake.

The room started out quiet. Then came the suppressed laughter.

"Does Larry listen to Aria play at home a lot?"

"Must be torture for your ears."

In five years of marriage, he'd only caught her playing once.

But in their mouths, it sounded like she'd forced him to endure five years of her practice sessions.

What would Larry say?

Her heart lifted against her will, hoping—