A Symphony of Scars

Ryan and I met during college.

It was a rainy day, and I was lost in thought while crossing the street when he reached out and pulled me back just in time to avoid being hit by a car.

I looked up, shaken, and found myself staring at his handsome, aloof face.

It was because of his life-saving act that I found myself falling for him, helplessly.

After much persistence on my part, Ryan agreed to date me.

But as we got closer, I started noticing something unsettling—there seemed to be someone more important to him than me.

Her name was Miranda, and she had grown up alongside Ryan.

Every time Miranda called, Ryan would drop everything and rush to her side.

He even went so far as to lock me on the rooftop the night before the final round of a piano competition for her sake.

That night, I had been locked out for hours, missing the competition and ending up with a fever that spiked to 104°F. Meanwhile, Miranda won first place.

The next day, Ryan had casually explained that his actions were just a way of repaying a debt.

Miranda came from a single-parent family. Her mother had worked as a maid at the Menzies.

After a fire, Miranda's mother had escaped, but when she realized Ryan was still inside, she went back in to save him.

Ryan was rescued, but Miranda's mother suffered severe burns and passed away in the hospital shortly after.

In gratitude for her mother's sacrifice, the Menzies treated Miranda like a daughter, showering her with love and care.

And whenever Miranda asked for anything, Ryan would always oblige.

Just like now—Ryan was willing to destroy my hands, my future, just to ensure that Miranda didn't have to face competition from me in tomorrow's audition.

But why was he repaying a debt to Miranda by destroying my hands and dreams?

Whenever I questioned his relationship with Miranda, Ryan would explode in anger, insisting that he only saw Miranda as a sister. He would tell me not to overthink things.

Before, I had forgiven him time and time again, driven by both my love for him and my gratitude to him for saving my life.

But now, staring at my bloodied hands, broken and unrecognizable, I cried and laughed, my emotions in turmoil.

When I was six, my father had an affair and abandoned me and my mother. The betrayal devastated my mother, and she cut herself because she couldn't bear the pain of his departure.

Her depression, coupled with the scars on her hands, led her to abandon her dream of playing the piano.

But one day, after hearing me play, my mother's eyes lit up. She found renewed hope.

She started working tirelessly, teaching me piano and hiring the best tutors, sending me to various competitions.

She even worked as a delivery driver and washed dishes, all to support me and give me the chance to succeed.

My mother, who had sacrificed so much for me, was diagnosed with cancer while I was in college and passed away far too soon.

On her deathbed, she held my hand and shared her final wish with me.

She wanted me to continue studying music, join an orchestra, and become Johannes's student.

But now, because I had fallen for Ryan, I missed my chance—my hands were destroyed, and I would never be able to play the piano again.

I used to not understand why my mother had been so consumed with grief after my father left, to the point of self-harm.

Now, I wondered—was this the price of loving someone?

If so, then I would never dare to love again.