Chapter 4

On the morning of my departure, Matthew surprisingly didn't head straight to the studio.

I was double-checking the weight of my bags when he appeared in the bedroom doorway, watching me.

"Are you free tonight?" he asked.

I zipped my suitcase shut. "Is there something you need?"

He held out a premiere ticket for his documentary, his movement stiff. "Didn't you always want to hear me play 'Love of My Life'?"

I didn't take it.

Frowning, he pushed the ticket a little closer. "I'm playing it tonight."

In the past, whenever Matthew made me mad, he never knew how to sweet-talk his way out of it.

He would just bring back a dessert I liked or save a ticket for me after a performance. Then he would assume I was automatically placated.

Eight years later, that was still the only way he knew how to act.

"I saved a seat for you," he said. "I'll take you out for dinner after the show."

My fingers brushed the edge of the ticket.

A place deep in my heart that had long gone cold actually gave a faint stir. Maybe because today just happened to be our eighth anniversary. Or maybe because the song "Love of My Life" had never been just a melody to me.

I suddenly wanted to believe him one last time.

At 7:00 pm, I dropped off my luggage at the airport and rushed to the premiere.

A staff member looked at my ticket and guided me all the way to the back. We finally stopped at a seat in the very last row, right against the wall.

"Ms. Newman, here's your seat."

I froze.

Right in front of the stage, a guest tag marked "Family" sat in the middle of the first row.

Evie was wearing a long white dress, surrounded by a crowd as she took her seat.

When Matthew passed by the side of the stage, he saw her. He stopped and leaned down to adjust her shawl for her.

Warm laughter broke out among the people nearby. No one noticed me sitting in the back row.

The documentary started playing.

On screen, Matthew walked through his long, dark days alone.

Evie appeared as the supportive companion, recounting how she helped him pick up his bow again.

Watching those stitched-together pieces of the past, I suddenly felt like a stranger. It was as if I had never existed in those eight years.

When the film ended, the spotlight fell on the center of the stage.

Matthew picked up his bow.

When the opening notes echoed out, my eyes burned with tears. It was "Love of My Life", the piece he wrote for me measure by measure during his darkest winter.

It was more than just our shared history. It was proof of how wholeheartedly I had once loved him.

As the performance neared its end, the live camera began scanning the audience.

The camera slowly swept from the front row toward the back. As I watched the lens draw closer, my heart began to pound so hard I could hear it.

Matthew knew I was sitting here. He said the seat was saved specifically for me.

Maybe he had just forgotten about the family section. Maybe this time, he really wanted to give this song back to me.

The camera swept across rows of audience members.

When it was just a few seats away from me, it suddenly stopped.

The next second, the display cut back to the front row. Evie looked up at the stage, her eyes slightly red.

Thunderous applause filled the hall.

Matthew locked eyes with her through the stage lights, his expression tender.

Sitting in the dark, I slowly unclasped my clenched hands. So the last row was the seat he had saved for me. I could be there. I could witness it all. But I wasn't meant to be seen.

My brief spark of hope a moment ago was laughably foolish.

It had been eight years, and I still fantasized about being the love of his life just because he'd handed me a ticket.

I didn't wait for the show to end. I quietly got up and walked out along the side aisle.

No one noticed me leave.

By the time I reached the airport, the boarding call was echoing through the terminal. I collected my luggage and switched my phone to airplane mode.

Right before the screen went dark, a message from Matthew popped up. "Why did you leave early?"

It was immediately followed by another message. "Evie's not feeling well, so I'm dropping her home first. We'll do dinner next week instead."

I didn't reply.

The cabin door slowly closed behind me.

As the plane began to taxi, the city lights outside burned bright across thousands of homes.

His concert hall was down there, along with his applause and the new favorite person he had chosen over me.

And I was finally no longer sitting in the back row, waiting for a camera that would never turn my way.

The plane accelerated and lifted off the ground.

Watching the city shrink into the distance, I slipped my wedding ring off my finger and dropped it into the paper bag in front of my seat.

Matthew didn't know it yet.

This time, I wasn't going to wait around for next week.