Chapter 3

Gabriel's POV

I rose slowly and made my way down to the basement, where an old violin had gathered dust in the corner for years.

I took it out, opened the case, and ran my fingers over the strings. When I drew the bow across them, a clear, beautiful note filled the room.

My nose tingled, and my eyes began to burn. I hadn't expected the violin to sound so beautiful after all these years.

When Natalie's business was on the verge of collapse, I took this very violin to local bars and pubs, playing for tips to help her stay afloat.

Each performance earned me eight dollars. Night after night, song after song, I kept playing until those meager earnings added up to 10,000 dollars—enough to help Natalie survive the darkest period of her life.

Now, after all these years, I was picking up the violin again. Only this time, I wasn't playing to save someone else or sacrificing everything I had for a future that might never come.

This time, I was doing it for myself.

…

The next morning, a series of furious knocks at the door jolted me awake.

The moment I opened it, Natalie swept inside, kicking off her shoes as she snapped, "Where the hell were you last night? How could you just leave me locked out of my own house?"

I didn't bother answering. Instead, I lowered my head and carefully packed my violin into its case. When I didn't reach for her coat like I usually did, Natalie finally looked me over.

"Why are you digging out all this junk?" she asked, glancing at the violin. "It's trash. Just throw it away."

Junk… Trash… Was that all it meant to her?

I lifted my head and met her eyes. "When you say junk, are you talking about the violin or me?"

Natalie froze for a moment, then gave me a puzzled look. "What's gotten into you today? Are you sick or something?"

She paused, then added impatiently, "Have you packed my bags yet?"

"No." I picked up the violin case and walked into the kitchen.

"I'm leaving on a business trip this afternoon!" she called after me.

"You can pack your own bags. I'm tired."

I switched on the coffee maker, and soon the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen. Natalie came over and held out her hand, waiting for me to pour her a cup as I always did.

Instead, I poured myself one and took a slow sip, letting the warmth seep into my hands and ease the chill that had settled deep in my chest.

Natalie stared at me before letting out an exasperated sigh. "You sit around the house all day. I honestly don't know what you could possibly be tired from. You're always getting in the way of things that actually matter!"

With that, she turned and headed upstairs, leaving me alone in the kitchen. Just then, the tablet on the marble counter lit up with a notification confirming that the flight tickets had been issued successfully.

I glanced at the screen and saw two first-class tickets to Mount Evercrest, booked under the names Natalie Prescott and Ryan Mitchell.

So this was what she meant by things that actually mattered. She wasn't going on a business trip. She was going to Mount Evercrest with Ryan.

Ten years ago, I'd performed "Under Mount Evercrest" on my violin at our university's freshman welcome party. That was the day Natalie fell in love with me at first sight.

Back when we were struggling to make ends meet in our tiny rented apartment, we often survived on nothing but sandwiches.

Whenever footage of couples taking their wedding photos at Mount Evercrest appeared on TV, the song "Under Mount Evercrest" would play in the background.

Natalie would fish the slice of ham out of her sandwich and drop it onto my plate, smiling as she said, "Gabe, I'll work hard, I promise. One day, we'll go to Mount Evercrest and take our wedding photos there."

But when I'd brought it up again years later, she'd only frowned. "It's so far away, and it'll cost a fortune. What's the point of traveling all that way? We can just have a studio photoshop the background. It'll look exactly the same."

Now, looking at those two first-class tickets to Mount Evercrest, I finally understood—it wasn't that the trip was too expensive or too much trouble. She simply didn't think it was worth making that journey with me.

The realization settled over me like a cold blanket. I pulled out my phone and called the photography studio to cancel our wedding photo package.

By the time I hung up, Natalie was already coming downstairs. She glanced at my phone, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Why did you cancel our wedding photos?" she asked.

"I don't want them anymore," I replied.

"What about the wedding?"

"I don't want one."

"Why?" She looked confused.

"There's no point."

Natalie studied me for a long moment, as if trying to figure out what had gotten into me. Then she finally nodded. "You're right. We've been together for so long, we're practically married already. There's no need to go through all that trouble."

I turned to face her and met her gaze directly. "Natalie?"

"Hmm?"

"What would you do if I left you someday?"

For a second, she simply stared at me. Then she burst out laughing, as though I'd just told her the funniest joke she'd ever heard.

"Gabriel, we've been together for ten years. I've taken care of you this entire time. I pay the bills, put a roof over your head, and make sure you have everything you need. Where would you even go without me? And who else would want you?"

Her words cut deeper than she could ever imagine. Every sentence felt like a knife driven straight into my chest, exposing the truth I'd spent years refusing to face.

This was how she'd always seen me—someone who owed her everything, someone who had nowhere else to go and no choice but to stay.

She was so certain I'd never leave her that she'd never even considered the possibility that I might. In her eyes, I was already hers, bound to her by ten years of dependence and sacrifice.

My eyes stung, and I had to swallow hard to keep the ache in my throat from spilling over. Still, I managed to speak in a quiet voice. "Natalie, we…"

Before I could finish, the doorbell rang.