A Sonata for the Scarred

Leopold Cliburn's voice came through the phone. "Really, Rhea?! I never stopped looking for you. Your father was useless—if he hadn't ditched your mother, we wouldn't have lost all those years. I've heard everything. With your talent, carrying on the Cliburn legacy will be easy."

Rhea dropped the photo of her and Eddie into the trash, laughing bitterly.

"Yeah. Thanks, Grandpa."

Three years ago, she was the prodigy everyone talked about.

Every stage, every spotlight—she owned it.

Then a single crash wrecked everything—took her hearing, killed her shot at the life she'd trained for.

The competition was the very next day.

Two years of grinding, prepping, aiming for that one title—top-ranked pianist in the country —just vanished.

Leopold kept going. "In seven days, I'll send someone to bring you home. We'll handle your name change and everything else."

"Okay, Grandpa. Got it."

Seven days. Just seven more days and she'd be gone. From Eddie. From this whole version of herself.

Her phone buzzed—a pic.

Eddie and Glenna. Twisted up in bed, arms all over each other.

Yeah, no mystery who sent it.

[Miss Smith, Eddie was wasted last night, so I brought him home. He kept me up for hours... said we're going to Bali for our wedding.]

Rhea saved the pic and the text, then typed back.

[Congrats. You finally got what you wanted.]

She spent the whole afternoon packing.

Everything that screamed them hit the trash.

The apartment? Her mom's gift. Small, but prime location. Agents had been circling for years.

She never budged—too many memories of her and Eddie tucked in the walls.

Now? She called the agency herself.

They moved fast. Someone came to check it out the next day.

Once the price was set, Rhea personally walked them out.

She stepped outside—and bam, Eddie's car rolled up.

Window down. He spotted the group, frowning. "Who are they?"

One of the agents jumped in, "Ah! You must be Miss Smith's boyfriend—"

Rhea cut him off. "Nothing. Water heater broke. Just repair guys."

The agent blinked, confused, but backed off under her stare.

Inside, Eddie paused. The apartment felt... wrong. Too empty.

He signed, [Why does it feel so empty all of a sudden?]

She signed back, cool as ice. [Just tossed some useless stuff.]

Her face gave nothing away. Eddie didn't press.

He pulled her in, sat down like nothing happened.

[I drank too much, crashed somewhere. You didn't wait up, did you? Work's been insane lately. Company celebration's tomorrow. Wanna come?]

She didn't say no.

Every second looking at him now—every fake smile, every touch—made her stomach turn.

But with six days left, she couldn't risk blowing it.

She just needed out.

Three years of lies—about to be over.