Chapter 65 You'll Be Fine Here on Your Own, Right?

Chapter 65 You'll Be Fine Here on Your Own, Right?

Rebecca's POV

After Grace left, I sat alone in the café for a long time. I kept staring at the half-eaten cake and half-empty coffee cup in front of me, unable to snap out of it.

Does Steven really love me?

What exactly has he been through? Could he be like Jeffrey, sometimes hurting so badly in certain places that he can't speak?

Jeffrey said his injuries were worse. I didn't dare think further—with injuries like that, how did he even survive?

I suddenly remembered that round scar on Steven's chest. That time when I lost control of my emotions, my hand touched it.

I had asked him about that scar once, and he just casually replied, "Gunshot wound, no big deal."

It was such a casual remark that made me think it wasn't anything serious.

Now that I think about it carefully, that scar was so close to his heart—how could it be nothing?

If his treatment had been delayed even a little, or if the bullet had shifted just a bit, he might not be standing in front of me now.

Right now, I just wanted to go to Steven's door, knock on it, ask him what he'd been through, ask him if he really loves me.

The face reflected in the coffee cup looked a bit unfamiliar. I downed the rest of the coffee in one gulp and stuffed the remaining half of the cake into my mouth.

The cold wind outside stung my face. Everything he'd been through made my heart clench. I really wanted to ask him in person, to confirm whether what Grace said was true.

I walked against the wind to the building where Steven lived. I stood in the cold wind, looking at that dark window.

The impulse from earlier slowly faded, and my mind became clear. I stood across the street but never crossed over.

It wasn't that I didn't want to—I couldn't.

This wasn't just Steven's home, it was also Everett's home.

And I was Everett's girlfriend now. If I showed up in front of Steven at this moment, how would I explain it?

Even if I got the answer I wanted, what would change?

Nothing would change. It would only create new problems. I shouldn't be here, and I definitely shouldn't be standing here for an outcome that was destined to remain unchanged.

The light in Steven's room suddenly turned on. I instinctively hid behind a tree, letting the trunk hide my figure, my heart leaping into my throat.

The streetlight stretched the tree's shadow long, hiding me completely in the darkness.

The light quickly went out again. I let out a long breath and buried my face in my scarf.

I knew I should leave.

When I walked into the practice room, Alfonso saw me and showed a gentle smile.

"Hello, Rebecca."

I put my bag by the wall. "Hello."

My playing today was noticeably more focused than yesterday. After Alfonso listened, he praised me, "Rebecca, it seems you've handled your matters well. You did very well today."

I pressed down the last note and said with a smile, "Thank you, Alfonso."

Alfonso shook his head. "No, Rebecca, you should thank yourself, and the piano in front of you. You two are the most compatible partners. I'm just a picky listener."

His words made me laugh. Alfonso always had a special way of encouraging people.

To train my reaction ability, he had me put one hand in a basin of water and the other on the piano.

While playing, only the hand that needed to play could be taken out of the water, and before pressing the keys, I had to dry my hand.

For me, this was quite a challenge because I normally didn't deliberately control just one hand.

I knew he was training my reaction speed, but at first I still made mistakes.

Fortunately, after several attempts, I gradually caught the rhythm and quickly became proficient.

Not only could I quickly switch hands and dry them, I could also accurately adjust the timing to ensure the piece remained complete and coherent.

I already had a special connection with piano music, so when actually doing it, many things came naturally.

It was just a few extra steps, which didn't prevent me from playing the piece well.

Occasionally when the difficulty increased and the tempo quickened, I adjusted my speed accordingly. Even if the first time through was a bit rough, I gradually adapted.

Alfonso clapped his hands beside me. "Rebecca, I knew I wasn't wrong about you. Alright, come rest for a bit."

I sat at the piano and shook my head. "No need, Alfonso. I feel great right now. I want to practice a bit more."

Alfonso raised an eyebrow, then nodded with an approving expression. "Rebecca, you're going to become an excellent pianist."

These words were a huge affirmation for me. I was practically glowing inside.

When I turned to the page for "Eutopia," my hand paused. I knew this piece was different from the ones I'd been practicing recently and the repertoire for the actual performance later.

But I was drawn to its melody. I turned to look at Alfonso. "May I try this one?"

This was a rather melancholic piece. Maybe it wasn't suitable for an occasion like a dinner party, but it was perfect for practicing emotional control and tested the performer's grasp of feelings.

Alfonso glanced at the score and thought seriously. "If it's for practicing technique, of course no problem."

"Rebecca, I'm going to get some water. You practice here by yourself for a while, okay?"

I nodded. For me, this slightly sad piece was easier to pull me into the emotion.

My fingers moved quickly across the keys, and that sorrowful melody slowly unfolded. I was completely immersed in the piece.

I didn't notice the scattered sounds around me at all. If I hadn't been playing, I might have heard some unusual noises.

When the piece reached its climax, what came with it wasn't applause, but a deafening crash.

The huge crystal chandelier came crashing down from above. The music stopped abruptly, and a piercing shattering sound rang in my ears.

Everything around me seemed to have its sound instantly sucked out. My world suddenly became frighteningly quiet. My vision started to blur. I reached out my blood-covered hand toward the person rushing toward me.

I couldn't see who it was, but I could hear his urgent shouts: "Get help!"

Blood kept spreading out from under me, that warm and sticky sensation making me instinctively want to escape.

I felt so tired, so sleepy. The weight on my body was about to crush me.

A pair of hands pressed firmly on my shoulders, shaking me hard. A voice faintly drilled into my ears: "Rebecca, wake up!"

I struggled to open my eyes and saw Alfonso's anxious face.

"Don't you dare sleep, you have to hang on!"

I can't sleep?

Why can't I sleep? I'm really so tired, my eyelids feel too heavy to lift...