A New Melody Without Him

For ten years, I stood beside Adrian Shaw while he clawed his way up from nothing to a nine-figure fortune. In all that time, he never once took me anywhere that cost more than twenty dollars a head. On the eve of our tenth anniversary, I sent him a link to the steakhouse I'd been saving for years. His expression darkened. "Just because we have money now doesn't mean we can forget how hard life can get. Thrift is a virtue, Nora. Don't lose it." I thought he had a point, so I nodded and agreed to cancel the reservation. Then, on the day I went to the restaurant to cancel it, I saw Adrian across the dining room, having dinner with a girl. He cut her steak for her, then reached over and gently wiped a streak of sauce from the corner of her mouth. I knew her. Chloe Foster, the company's newest intern. Twenty-one years old. "Mr. Shaw, I can't finish all this," Chloe said. "What a waste." "If it made you happy, it wasn't wasted." Adrian gazed at her with open tenderness. "We can box up the rest for Nora." "But those are my leftovers." He chuckled. "It's fine. Nora was with me when we had nothing. She isn't picky." Chloe smiled at that. "So she got the hard years, and I get the good ones?" Adrian said nothing for a long moment. Then he murmured, "Yes." I tightened my grip on the reservation slip, my nails digging into my palm, and I didn't feel a thing. The hostess beside me lowered her voice. "Ms. Wells, tables are in high demand right now. Are you sure you want to cancel?" I swallowed the bitterness burning in my throat. "No," I said. "Keep the table—and bring me the most expensive meal you serve.” Chapter 1 By the time I sat down, Adrian had already left with Chloe. From my table on the mezzanine, I had a perfect view of them standing together on the sidewalk below, their fingers laced. A sharp wind swept off the Chicago River. Adrian pulled off his cashmere scarf and wound it around Chloe's slender neck. Then he opened the back door of his car and lifted out an enormous bouquet of blue roses. I couldn't hear what he said. I only saw Chloe cover her mouth in delight before throwing herself into his arms and kissing him. A few blue petals broke loose and spun away on the wind. I'd seen roses like those once, in a bridal magazine. I could still remember reading their meaning aloud. "A miracle found nowhere else in the world. A love that can never be replaced." Then I'd looked up at Adrian and smiled. "We should have blue roses at our wedding." He hadn't even lifted his head. "They're all show. Flowers are a stupid thing to waste money on." I never mentioned them again. That bridal magazine had been gathering dust in a drawer for years. Yet the flowers from its glossy pages had finally turned up in another woman's arms. So blue roses weren't a waste after all. They just weren't worth buying for me. When my server arrived, she followed my gaze to the couple lingering outside and smiled with unmistakable envy. "Mr. Shaw and Ms. Foster are adorable together, aren't they? They come in every Saturday." I turned slowly toward her. "Every Saturday?" "Without fail. Ms. Foster didn't know how to use a steak knife when they first started coming, so Mr. Shaw guided her hands and taught her how." The server laughed softly. "She loves our food, and he always leaves a very generous tip. They're hard to forget." She set one dinner in front of me and placed the other at the empty seat across the table. "Enjoy." I cut off a piece of steak and put it in my mouth. I didn't realize I was crying until a tear landed on my plate. The meat tasted unbearably salty. Last Saturday, I'd been burning with fever. I texted Adrian and asked him to bring home a bottle of electrolyte water. Drink something hot, he replied. That works better than anything from a store. The Saturday before that, a pipe burst upstairs. When I asked for help, he told me, You can handle it yourself. I knew how busy he was. So I took myself to urgent care, then borrowed a wrench and fixed the leak alone. I’d never imagined he was too busy romancing a pretty young woman to be there for me. A bitter ache rose into my throat. I forced it back down and kept cutting, chewing, swallowing—bite after bite, tears and all. If I finished everything, I told myself, at least I’d get my money’s worth. My phone buzzed against the table. Where are you? Adrian had written. Why aren’t you home? When he first launched his company, I gave up my own career and devoted myself entirely to supporting him. He never carried a house key, because no matter when he came home, I always was there to let him in. I typed, I'm celebrating our anniversary. A question mark appeared, then vanished almost at once. Whatever you're doing, get home. I have a business trip tomorrow. In other words, he needed me to come back and pack his suitcase. I silenced his messages, turned my phone facedown, and kept eating. Warm light glowed around the dining room. Couples leaned close over candlelit tables. I was the only person eating two seven-hundred-dollar dinners alone, shoveling down food as if hunger could fill the hollow place inside me. I couldn't taste a thing except bitterness. I stayed until the restaurant closed. Adrian's car was gone by the time I got home. A neatly packed steak dinner sat on the front step, proof that he'd stopped by. Chapter 2 I picked up the takeout box and dropped it straight into the trash. The pipe upstairs was leaking again. A cold drop struck the tip of my nose as soon as I stepped into the foyer. The house rose five levels, all polished stone and glass and empty rooms. Adrian had called it his gift to me, for the ten years I'd spent sharing every hardship he endured. Only his name was on the deed. The decorating had been left to me. So had every chore. Adrian said he hated having strangers in the house, which meant I washed the dishes and scrubbed the floors. I changed the light bulbs, unclogged the toilets, and patched the pipes too. That night, listening to water drip steadily through the ceiling, I couldn't summon the strength to wipe up one more puddle. I sank onto the couch just as my best friend called. "Nora, did you and Adrian finally pick a date?" Rachel asked. "I need enough time to fly back for the wedding and be your maid of honor." My fingers curled into my palm. After a long silence, I said, "There isn't going to be a wedding." "What? Why not? "You gave up a place at an overseas conservatory to help Adrian build his company. You took the hands you trained to play violin and used them to cook and wash his clothes for ten years. "Now that you've finally made it through the worst of it, you're walking away? Are you out of your mind?" I let her anger run its course. When she finally fell quiet, I spoke in an even voice. "I had steak tonight." "What?" "It cost seven hundred dollars a plate. But it didn't taste half as good as the cheap instant noodles we used to share in our old apartment." Rachel went silent. Then her voice softened. "Whatever you decide, I'm with you. My orchestra in Sydney needs another violinist. If you're ready to play again, the chair is yours." I clutched the hem of my shirt until my knuckles hurt, fighting down the emotion swelling in my chest. "Thank you." The call had barely ended when a trending local post flashed across my screen. In the photo, Chloe stood beside the Chicago River, holding her blue roses beneath the city lights. A message rolled across the giant display on the building behind her. HAPPY 21ST BIRTHDAY TO MY SWEET CHLOE. The comments poured in. Did I just stumble into a billionaire's love confession? Whoever paid for that screen has MONEY. I heard it costs fifteen thousand dollars a minute! Then Adrian's verified account appeared beneath the post. May my girl never know another unhappy day. Chloe answered within seconds. Here's to our beautiful future together! A tear struck my screen and scattered the light into tiny blurred stars. I wiped it away and stared at Adrian's profile picture. The background was the oatmeal-colored curtain from our old basement apartment. It had been cheap fabric, too thin to block the streetlights. The first time Adrian complained he couldn't sleep, I found a length of heavy cloth and sat on the floor all night sewing it to the back of the curtain by hand. When I hung it the next morning, Adrian stumbled over, still half asleep, and wrapped his arms around me. "How are you this good to me?" he whispered into my ear. "When I make it, I’ll put you in charge of everything—the company and all our money." I laughed and shook my head, tugging at the rough curtain. "I don't want any of that. Just don't forget the years we survived in this little apartment, behind this curtain." He made the curtain his profile picture that day and never changed it. Now he was using that same photograph—the record of everything we'd endured together—to promise another woman a future. It was time for me to leave too. Chapter 3 I went down to the basement and pulled my violin out of the corner where it had sat untouched for years. When I lifted the lid and plucked a string, a clear note rang through the room. My eyes stung. Thank goodness. It still had a voice. During the bleakest days of Adrian’s company, I'd taken this violin out onto the street and played for tips. One song for one dollar. Hundreds of songs, then thousands, until the crumpled bills added up to the fifteen thousand dollars he needed to keep his company alive. Now I was holding my violin again. This time, I'd play for myself. A violent pounding shook the front door early the next morning. Adrian strode inside the moment I opened it, shrugging out of his coat as he complained, "Where were you last night? How could you not be home?" I lowered my head and secured the violin in its case. Only when I failed to reach for the coat the way I always did did he bother to look at me properly. "Why did you drag that old junk out?" He frowned. "If you haven't used it in years, throw it away." Junk. Did he mean the violin, or did he mean me? I raised my eyes. "Which one do you want me to throw away, Adrian? The instrument or the person?" His hands went still on the coat, and he gave me a strange look. "What is wrong with you today? Did you pack my suitcase?" "No." I turned toward the kitchen. "My flight is this afternoon." "Then you can pack it yourself. I'm tired." I started the coffee machine. The dark, roasted smell slowly filled the kitchen. Adrian came up beside me and held out his hand, waiting for me to put his usual mug in it. Instead, I lifted the coffee to my own lips. The warmth drove a little of the cold from my chest. He stared at me, then sighed with theatrical impatience. "You sit around this house all day. What could you possibly be tired from? Now you’re getting in the way of something important.” He turned and went upstairs. The tablet on the marble counter lit up. A flight confirmation filled the screen: two first-class tickets to Santorini. Passengers: Adrian Shaw and Chloe Foster. So that was the important trip I was delaying. He was taking Chloe to Santorini. Ten years ago, I'd played a piece called "Santorini" at our university's freshman showcase. Adrian told me later that he fell in love with me before I'd played the final note. During our basement-apartment years, a television commercial used to run of couples taking their wedding portraits on the island's white cliffs. One night, Adrian fished the only slice of sausage out of his instant noodles and dropped it in my bowl. "I'm going to work hard, Nora. Someday we'll take our wedding pictures in Santorini too." But when I brought it up years later, he frowned. "It's far, it's expensive, and it's a lot of trouble. A photographer can drop the background in afterward. What's the difference?" Going to Santorini had never been the problem. Going with me was. I called our photographer and canceled the wedding photography package. Adrian came downstairs as I ended the call. Suspicion sharpened his expression. "Why did you cancel the wedding shoot?" "I don't want the pictures anymore." "What about the ceremony?" "I don't want that either." "Why?" "There's no point." He searched my face for a long moment, then gave a slow nod. "You're right. We've been together so long we're practically an old married couple. There's no reason to put on a show." I turned fully toward him. "Adrian." "What?" "If I left you one day, what would you do?" He blinked. Then he threw back his head and laughed as though I'd told the funniest joke in the world. "Nora, you've been with me for ten years. The food you eat, the clothes you wear, the roof over your head—I gave you all of it. Where would you even go? Who else would want you?" The contempt in his voice cut straight through me. All this time, he hadn't only believed I would stay. He believed I couldn't leave. Heat rushed behind my eyes. I forced down the ache and made my voice steady. "Adrian, we—" The doorbell rang. Chapter 4 Adrian spun toward the door and crossed the foyer in three quick strides. Chloe stood on the front step. She flashed him a sweet smile and gave him a playful wink. "Mr. Shaw, I'm all ready." One of Adrian's hands stayed on the door while the other rubbed nervously at the seam of his pants. I knew that gesture. He'd done the same thing around me when we first met. It was how his shyness showed. Chloe leaned past him to look inside. Her gaze settled on me. “Excuse me, ma’am. Could you bring me a pair of slippers?” I stared at her. "What?" She covered her mouth as though she'd only just recognized me. Her lashes fluttered. "Oh—Ms. Wells. I'm so sorry. I thought you were the housekeeper." She started to duck her head, but Adrian stopped her. "It's fine. That wasn't your fault." The words drifted through the foyer as lightly as dust. Not her fault. Whose was it, then? Mine? I looked at myself in the mirror across the room: red-rimmed eyes, colorless lips, tangled hair, and the same faded pajamas I'd worn for five years. "The temperature dropped. Aren't you going to freeze dressed like that?" Adrian reached up and tugged Chloe’s neckline a little higher. She pouted and pulled it back down. "Off-the-shoulder is in right now. It's called fashion." Then she turned brightly toward me. "Isn't that right, Ms. Wells?" Before I could answer, Adrian scoffed. "What would she know about fashion? She's a housewife who never goes anywhere." Chloe burst out laughing. Humiliation burned across my face. I locked my jaw and refused to let the tears fall. They grabbed their suitcases and started outside. I followed Adrian and held out the house key. "Take this." He frowned at it. "Why?" I didn't answer. I just held it closer. Adrian studied my face as if he might finally ask the question that mattered. "Achoo." Chloe gave a delicate sneeze. He turned toward her at once. The door slammed in my face, missing my outstretched hand by less than an inch. Adrian never even hesitated. I stood there until my heartbeat slowed, then turned and climbed the stairs. Adrian had been home for a single morning, but every room bore evidence of him. His socks lay beside the bed. Half-eaten toast sat on the dining table. A damp towel had been crushed into a ball and abandoned by the bathroom sink. He'd seen the leaking pipe and ignored it. Wet footprints ran from the bathroom into the bedroom, the office, and all the way down the stairs. For the first time in my life, I called a cleaning service. While the cleaners erased Adrian’s mess, I packed everything I meant to take. I went to the office for my passport and found a notebook in the desk drawer. Its pages were crowded with entries about Chloe. Chloe's birthday—budget: $30,000. Santorini trip—budget: $45,000. Auction event for Chloe—budget: $750,000. Pages and pages of plans. My name appeared once. Household expenses—budget: $450 per month. A bitter smile pulled at my mouth. To Adrian, I was nothing more than an unpaid housekeeper—someone who existed to serve him. I required no affection, no thought, and no effort. By the time I shipped the last box, the clock was chiming the hour. Chloe was still flooding social media with photographs: the two of them embracing under a wall of bougainvillea, kissing on a terrace above the caldera. In her newest post, Adrian wore a suit and knelt in front of her, holding up a ring while she posed in a white wedding dress. The Santorini you dreamed of for years is finally mine. The taunt couldn't have been clearer. I had thought I would feel rage, grief, or humiliation. Instead, when I pressed a hand to my chest, I found there was no pain left at all. I turned off my phone, slid the house key under the doormat, and took one last look at the home where I'd lived for less than two years. Then I walked away. Several days later, Adrian finally saw Chloe's wedding-dress post. Unease stirred in him. He almost asked her to delete it. Chloe leaned close and pointed at the photograph. "Don't I look beautiful?" Her smile was so delighted that Adrian swallowed the words. "Beautiful," he said. He was still working out how he'd explain everything to Nora when Rachel's new post appeared on his feed. Welcome to our newest violinist, Nora Wells! The photograph showed a familiar figure bent over her instrument, wholly absorbed in the music. Behind her rose the unmistakable white sails of the Sydney Opera House.