Chapter 267
Stella’ s POV
"We'll go," Adam interrupted, already closing his laptop, "but you're staying by my side the entire time."
I suppressed a victorious smile. "Whatever you say, Mr. Lancaster."
I opted for casual attire, choosing a simple white t-shirt with fitted jeans and comfortable sneakers. With my hair tied back in a ponytail and the lower half of my face concealed behind a black mask, I hoped to blend into the crowd rather than stand out.
For Adam, I prepared a black t-shirt and dark jeans, topped with a simple baseball cap—probably the most informal combination his wardrobe could manage. When he emerged from the bathroom wearing my selections, I couldn't help but appreciate how the fitted t-shirt emphasized his broad shoulders, how the jeans complemented his athletic build.
"You look at least five years younger in casual clothes," I commented, lightly adjusting his cap.
His hand found the sensitive spot at the back of my neck, his fingers applying just enough pressure to make me squirm and try to escape. "Are you saying I'm old, Mrs. Lancaster?"
"Of course not!" I protested, trying to wiggle out of his grasp, "That was a compliment!"
His lips brushed against the corner of my mouth, teeth gently capturing my lower lip in a playful but suggestive gesture. "Even if I were, you'd still be mine."
The possessive statement sent an unexpected thrill through my body, and I had to force myself to step back before we abandoned our plans altogether. "We should go if we want good seats."
When the host announced the next performer, I felt Adam suddenly tighten his grip on my hand. He had been tense since we arrived, his gaze constantly scanning the room as if assessing potential threats.
"What's wrong?" I whispered, leaning closer.
"Nothing," he answered, though his expression suggested otherwise.
Then I saw Henry step onto the stage, violin in hand, and immediately understood Adam's reaction. The young man was dressed in a simple black suit, looking composed and professional, but there was something in his expression—a determined resignation—that made my stomach tighten with premonition.
"You knew he would be here," I realized, turning to give Adam an accusatory glance.
"Why do you look so nervous?" Adam countered, his voice low and sharp, "Is there something I should know?"
"Of course not," I quickly replied, "I just didn't expect to see him perform. If I'd known, I would have mentioned it to you beforehand."
Henry raised his violin, and the first notes of his piece filled the auditorium—hauntingly beautiful and profoundly sad. I immediately recognized the melody: "Night of Confession," a notoriously difficult piece that required both technical skill and emotional depth to perform effectively.
As the music swelled, I became uncomfortably aware of the furtive glances from nearby students. They were watching my reactions, clearly having recognized me despite the mask and casual clothing.
"We've been spotted," I murmured to Adam, trying to keep my expression neutral.
His response was an almost imperceptible shrug, as if to say, "You're only just noticing?"
I felt a flash of annoyance. "You could have told me earlier! I've had my hand on your thigh for the past twenty minutes."
Adam's eyes held a glint of amusement beneath his serious expression. His fingers traced lightly over my wrist as he leaned close to whisper, "How would that be a problem, Mrs. Lancaster?"
On stage, Henry's performance reached its crescendo, the violin singing with such genuine emotion that the entire audience seemed to hold its breath. He kept his eyes closed throughout, as if drawing the music from somewhere deep within himself.
He's playing for me, I realized with sudden clarity, This is his goodbye.
Henry's POV
The final note hung in the air like a suspended breath. I slowly lowered my violin and opened my eyes to face a completely silent audience. The usually enthusiastic college crowd seemed frozen, their gazes flickering between me and where Stella sat with her husband.
The silence stretched uncomfortably until I decided to break it myself.
"Wow," I chuckled lightly into the microphone, "you guys are really terrible at being subtle. Could you be any more obvious?"
A ripple of relieved laughter spread through the audience, breaking the tension. Several students called out greetings to Stella and Adam, though notably, no one directly mentioned the once-rumored connection between Stella and myself.
"I know some of you are wondering why I chose this piece," I continued, though my tone was casual, my heart was pounding, "'Night of Confession' is somewhat misleading in translation. In the classical sense, 'confession' also refers to a farewell statement—a formal acknowledgment of truth before moving on."
I adjusted my grip on the violin, gathering courage for my next words. "So I wanted to dedicate this piece to someone who was once important in my life—a gesture of gratitude and goodbye. May your path ahead be filled with success and happiness."
I didn't look directly at Stella as I spoke, but I knew she would understand. This performance wasn't a declaration of lingering feelings, but a release—my way of closing a chapter that needed to end.
For a moment, I allowed myself one last look at her—this woman who had once occupied my thoughts and dreams. She sat beside her husband, maintaining her composure, her eyes reflecting understanding and a certain gratitude.
Be happy, Stella. He won fair and square, and I've come to accept that.
When the applause finally erupted around me, I felt the weight on my shoulders begin to lighten. The music had expressed everything I needed to say, and now, finally, I could move forward without regrets.