Chapter 4

On the morning of the departure day, Selena did not rush straight to the studio as usual.

I was checking the weight of my luggage while she stood at the door of the bedroom and watched me for a while. "Are you free tonight?"

I closed the suitcase. "What's up?"

She handed me a ticket for the documentary premiere, her movements a bit stiff. "You've always wanted to see me play My Dearest Love, haven't you?"

I did not accept it.

She frowned and pushed the ticket forward again. "I will play it tonight."

Whenever Selena angered me in the past, she never sweet-talked me into forgiving her. She would only bring me a dessert I liked or leave a ticket for me after a certain concert.

Then she would just assume I had forgiven her.

Eight years later, it was still the only way she knew how to handle things.

She said, "I've reserved a seat for you. I'll have dinner with you after the concert."

My fingers touched the ticket.

Something deep inside me, a place that had long since gone cold, stirred once more.

Perhaps it was because today happened to be our eighth anniversary.

Perhaps it was because My Dearest Love had always been more than just a melody to me.

Suddenly, I felt an urge to believe just one last time.

At 7pm, I left my luggage at the airport and hurried to the premiere.

A staff member glanced at my ticket and led me all the way to the back.

We stopped at a seat against the wall in the very last row. "Mr. Bennett, here is your seat."

I was stunned.

At the very front of the stage, a nameplate marked "Reserved for Family" sat in the center of the front row.

Theodore, dressed in a white tuxedo, took his seat, surrounded by a crowd.

As Selena passed by from the side of the stage, she caught sight of him. She paused, leaning in to adjust his bow tie.

Warm laughter rippled through the crowd.

No one noticed me, sitting in the very last row.

The documentary began to play.

On screen, Selena walked alone through a long, difficult valley.

Theodore appeared as her companion, recounting how she had come to take up her cello bow once more.

Watching these fragments of the past pieced back together, I suddenly felt like a stranger. It was as if I had never existed in those eight years.

The film ended and the stage lights focused on the center.

Selena picked up her bow.

When the first melody began to play, my eyes welled up.

It was My Dearest Love — a piece she had written for me, one segment at a time, during the hardest winter of her life.

It was more than just a reflection of our shared past; it was the embodiment of the heart I had once given her, without reservation.

As the concert neared its end, the camera began scanning the audience, its feed projected onto the large screens.

A beam of light swept slowly from the front row toward the back.

Watching the camera draw closer, my heart began to race uncontrollably.

Selena knew I was here. She had said this seat was reserved specifically for me.

Perhaps she had simply forgotten about the section for family.

Or perhaps she truly intended to return this piece to me this time.

The camera glided past rows of spectators.

Just a few paces away from me, it suddenly came to a halt.

The next second, the image cut back to the front row.

Theodore gazed up toward the stage with slightly reddened eyes.

The entire venue erupted in thunderous applause.

Selena locked eyes with him across the stage lights, her expression tender.

I sat in the darkness, slowly unclenching my tightly gripped hands.

It turned out the very last row was the seat she had reserved for me.

I could be there.

I could bear witness.

However, I could not be seen.

I even found the flicker of anticipation I had felt just moments ago to be utterly ridiculous.

After eight years, I still let myself believe that a ticket from her meant I was still her Dearest Love.

I did not wait for the concert to end. I rose quietly and slipped away along the side aisle.

No one noticed me.

By the time I reached the airport, the boarding announcement was already echoing over the loudspeakers.

I retrieved my suitcase and switched my phone to airplane mode.

Just before the screen went dark, Selena sent a message.

Selena: [Why did you leave early?]

Then, she sent another one.

Selena: [Theodore isn’t feeling great, so I’m sending him home.]

Selena: [Let’s reschedule dinner for next week.]

I did not reply.

The cabin door slowly shut behind me.

As the plane began to taxi, the city outside lit up with countless lights.

That city contained her concert hall, the applause she lived for, and the new dearest love she had chosen.

I was finally no longer sitting in the very last row, waiting for my moment in the spotlight.

The plane gathered speed and lifted off the ground.

I watched the city recede into the distance, slipped off my wedding ring, and dropped it into the paper bag in the seat pocket in front of me.

Selena had no idea yet.

This time, I would not be waiting until next week.