Our eyes met.

A flicker of panic crossed the girl’s face, but she quickly composed herself, the corners of her lips curling into a practiced smile.

"Wasn’t you supposed to perform abroad and return tomorrow, Coach Claire?"

Following her gaze, I realized my left hand was gripping the violin case so tightly that my knuckles had turned pale out of tension.

I set the case on the ground and shook my hand, "I wasn’t used to the food there, so I changed my mind."

Her eyes darted briefly toward her discarded underwear.

"But I didn’t expect you’d show up at my house so early, wearing such pretty clothes, no less," I added, stressing the words “my house” and “pretty” with deliberate emphasis, causing her to let out a soft laugh.

At that moment, the bedroom door creaked open and Lennon stepped out, holding a stack of papers in his hands. I tilted my chin toward the girl, silently demanding an explanation.

Lennon leaned against the doorframe, his eyes lingering far too long on her exposed skin before finally speaking. "She is just borrowing the bathroom."

Heh, what a clumsy lie.

I did not bother calling him out, narrowing my eyes with a cold stare.

The room fell silent, save for the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock.

She was young, after all and the tension was too much for her. At last, she broke the silence, her voice trembling as she stammered out a defense.

"Coach Claire, don’t misunderstand. I only came to pick up some sheet music from Lennon. It started raining heavily, so he let me in to shower and dry off…"

"Did I tell you to speak?"

I cut her off sharply and her voice trailed off instantly.

However, my actions seemed to displease Lennon.

He frowned, stepping forward to stand between me and the girl, effectively shielding her.

"Claire, please control your temper."

As he spoke, he tossed the sheet music in his hand toward me, Brahms’ Third Symphony.

"Mia came here to pick up the sheet music and got caught in the rain. I let her use the bathroom. Is there a problem with that?"

I curled my lips into a cold smile, then bent down and picked up her underwear between my fingers. I tossed it in her direction.

The girl’s face turned a deep shade of red. She lowered her head, staring at the crumpled underwear on the ground, her teeth sinking into her lower lip.

"Of course, no problem. But a person with proper manners wouldn’t leave their underwear lying around."

The deliberate provocation made Lennon, who was usually calm and composed, narrow his eyes dangerously.

As his expression grew darker, Mia’s composure began to crack as tears welled in her eyes.

She stepped past Lennon to grab my arm and called my name softly.

Her pitiful expression was complete with tearful eyes and a pleading look.

Lennon, however, pulled her behind him protectively. His gaze was now cold and unfamiliar, making it hard for me to breathe.

"Have you had enough?"

"She’s your apprentice, not some random person. Drop the superior attitude."

"If you’re angry, go vent it elsewhere, but don’t take it out on Mia."

I froze, caught off guard.

He was never one to hide his disdain for her in the past. When had their relationship shifted to this level of intimacy?

The first time I met Mia Blake was during one of my coach’s classes.

She had been only twenty years old at the time, a quiet girl sitting alone in the corner of the classroom, practicing the violin diligently.

I had stood at the door, pointing her out to my coach with a casual question. "Sir, class ended ages ago. Why hasn’t that girl left yet?"

My coach glanced over, shaking his head. "That’s just how she is. Every time, she stays behind to practice a little longer and asks me for extra guidance."

"If you don’t have natural talent, you have to work harder."

I listened to the girl playing the violin and she played Scarborough Fair with a few wrong notes here and there.

"Her technique needs work, but her emotional depth is impressive. That’s crucial for a performer."

My coach gave me a dismissive look, clearly unimpressed by my assessment.

I smiled knowingly, aware of what he was thinking.

After all, by the time I was twenty, I had already been selected to play in the first violin section of the city orchestra.

Even my coach’s violin class was adorned with my posters.

"If you want to join the orchestra, your pitch still isn’t good enough."

The girl froze mid-motion, then turned toward the voice. Her eyes widened in recognition the moment she saw me.

Her eyes widened as she murmured, "Claire…"

Maybe it was the longing in her gaze, or how much she reminded me of my younger self, that made me act on impulse.

"I’ll be visiting my coach next month. Prepare in advance and I’ll guide you."

She nodded eagerly, like a child savoring an unexpected treat. Finally, she mustered the courage to add timidly, "Thank you, Miss Dawson."

From that day on, I began coaching Mia more frequently.

Gradually, her title for me evolved. First, it was Miss Dawson, then Coach Dawson and eventually, she called me Coach Claire.

However, Lennon was not pleased after another missed date.

"That girl’s talent is mediocre at best. No amount of coaching will change that."

"And today of all days. It was our anniversary and you’d rather spend it coaching her?"

At the time, I only knew Mia’s important exam was approaching.

I reassured Lennon, promising to make it up to him the next day.

Mia worked tirelessly and eventually succeeded in passing the municipal orchestra’s examination, earning her place as a second violinist.

On the day I introduced her to the orchestra, Lennon happened to be there.

He was seated cross-legged at the center of the stage, carefully wiping his flute. His eyes glanced at Mia Blake, cold and dismissive, but he said nothing.

Mia hesitated, clearly intimidated and began to retreat. But I stopped her, holding her steady before gently pushing her forward.

Fear lingered in her eyes, but she mustered up her courage and stepped toward him.

"Mr. Sullivan, I am Coach Claire’s apprentice. Please guide me in the future."

Lennon did not even look up and continued to meticulously clean his instrument.

After a long pause, he finally uttered a sentence. "No need for me to guide you. The violin and I don’t collaborate."

"But as a second violinist, your job is to assist the first violinist."

From across the room, he gestured toward me, his voice laced with a casual warning.

I had thought the thrill of their first meeting would linger indefinitely and that I would continue mediating between them whenever necessary.

But unexpectedly, Mia no longer appeared frightened when she looked at Lennon.

Likewise, Lennon’s demeanor toward Mia now carried a trace of gentleness.

"Coach Claire, if you don’t like it, I’ll leave right now."

"But please don’t misunderstand Mr. Sullivan..."

I looked up at her. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes and her timid voice was trembling.

One glance of it could captivate anyone to fall for her, let alone a man.

"Let’s go outside first." Lennon's eyes darkened as he pulled Mia to his side, then took off his coat and draped it around her shoulders.

"Claire, you’re getting old and your temper’s only getting worse. Try to be a little more patient." After saying that, he glanced at me sharply before pulling Mia into his arms and tilting his lips into a faint smile. "I’m always worried some young talent will steal your spot in the orchestra."

As he spoke, he leaned slightly, his lips brushing against Mia’s damp black hair, a gesture so casual yet so deliberate it sent a wave of provocation straight to me.

I knew exactly what Lennon was implying. Not long ago, I had refrained from recommending Mia for the orchestra’s promotion slot.

Lowering my gaze, I replied softly, " Mia’s skills still need improvement..."

"She’s your own apprentice." Lennon cut off my words. His tall frame loomed over me as he grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes.

The years of playing instruments had hardened his hands and they had already developed a thick layer of calluses, which caused the pressure of his grip stung sharply.

"Claire, your memory must be failing you. You’re the one who has ignored me countless times for your apprentice. And now you want to feign some high ground? Are you afraid that Mia will take your place?"

His cold gaze bore into me, but there was a teasing curve on his lips.

I gritted my teeth against the pain and drew a deep breath, my gaze shifting past Lennon to Mia. "Why should I be afraid of a woman with no talent?"

Mia’s face froze, her previous expression of grievance vanishing instantly.

Her lips trembled faintly as she glared at me, her anger boiling to the surface. Then, without warning, she stormed toward me and slapped me across the face.

Slap!

I was so stunned by the slap that the force instantly knocked me off balance and I staggered backward.

A stabbing pain flared in my lower back as I fell and the ringing in my ears subsided.

I gasped for air and glanced back, only to find the violin case toppled over, its delicate strings now crushed beneath the chaos.

But almost instantly, her expression shifted again, her face morphing into an image of fragile innocence.

She stumbled toward me, her body trembling and her voice shaking.

"Coach Claire, I... I didn’t mean to! I didn’t want to..."

A wry smile tugged at the corner of my lips. Without a word, I pushed her away gently, my gaze locking onto hers with a quiet, hollow pity.

The room fell into a heavy silence. At last, Lennon was unable to sit by any longer.

He walked toward me. Sliding an arm around me, he tucked my disheveled hair behind my ear and gently pressed my lower back with his other hand.

"Does it hurt here? Or anywhere else?" he asked softly, leaning in close enough that his breath brushed against my skin, causing a goosebump.

In a moment of daze, I foolishly believed that Lennon Sullivan's tenderness still belonged to me. That all his recent irritations were just his way of wanting me to take him more seriously.

Softening my tone, I sighed and began, "I didn't neglect you..."

But before I could finish, Lennon gently released me, his expression calm yet filled with an almost pleading softness as he stared at my eyes. "Don't argue with her, okay?"

I stared at him in disbelief, the man I thought I knew so well.

His tenderness, his care, his love… When had it no longer belonged to me?

I felt like a butterfly trapped in its own cocoon, unable to break free.

Tears welled uncontrollably in my eyes, spilling over and splattering onto the ground with a soft splat.

"Get out..." I trembled as I whispered, my voice breaking under the weight of suppressed anguish. I could not bear to lift my head.

I kept my head low until the door clicked softly as it was locked. The huge room was filled with silence and I was the only one left behind.

I touched my chest. The dull ache there throbbed inside.

Taking a few days off from the orchestra, I moved into a hotel.

During this time, Lennon’s messages kept coming without pause.

He asked about my back injury, where I was staying and how I was recovering.

But I frowned each time I read them. It was too late to laugh at his efforts now.

The violin that had been broken that day was the first handmade violin Lennon had ever given me. At the time, he had spent nearly all his savings on it.

I was reluctant to use it, but he had comforted me so gently, saying, "Claire, you dummy. I’ll only be happy if you use it. I’ll give you one every year from now on."

But after that, he never gave me another violin again.

He always had reasons. He was too busy, he had no time, he forgot... or he was attending Mia’s performances instead.

My gaze fell on the violin with its broken strings lying on the bed. Bitterness swelled in my heart.

I had believed in an unbreakable bond of love with Lennon Sullivan. I had trusted in the deep, nurturing connection between Mia and me as coach and apprentice. But in the end, it all felt like a puddle of mud, trampled and meaningless.

I had poured years of effort into apprentices I had carefully cultivated. I had placed my faith in a lover who was quietly betraying me, all under my nose.

Closing my eyes tightly, I resolved not to cry anymore. They were not worth my tears.

Later, during a rehearsal, I unexpectedly caught Lennon’s gaze from the audience.

His expression faltered briefly as he recognized me. For a long moment, he stared, then suddenly smiled and leaped down from the stage.

"Claire, how have you been? Why haven’t you responded to my messages these past few days?"