Page 57 of For All My Effort

And then they started.

Slow and soft. Not startling anyone with a dramatic piece.

They played and I was sucked in.

Music wasn’t something I ever really thought about. It existed and I liked it, but this was completely different to the everyday songs I listened to or heard. Without words, yet I could feel the story. The sounds weren’t telling, merely pushing and pulling and swinging the narrative along.

So ingrained in their minds, there were no stands for reading the notes. Everything they played, they had memorized, and that somehow made everything even more beautiful.

As the first piece died down, I started clapping. My hands were the only noise echoing throughout the room. I didn’t care.

Beside me, Seb chuckled, and when I finally stopped, he grabbed my hands, pulling them to his lips to kiss.

The next song started and at some point, the waiter started dropping off the courses. Seb was right when he said they were tiny. Some were only two bites, although we did get a few bigger ones which took maybe four bites.

Seb was also right that they were delicious. Everything was perfectly cooked. Every bite had me wishing for more, yet there were only the tiny portions before our plates were yanked away and the next was appearing.

I wondered if the point of the small portions was to keep the distractions minimal while we listened to the music. The few bites of food were enough to keep us sidetracked from our hunger without pulling too much of our attention toward our plates.

When we finally reached the dessert portion, I had tears in my eyes, and I was trying to be subtle and quiet about how clogged my nose was from trying to stop myself from bawling.

I’d never read … listened to … experienced a story that didn’t end happily. In this one, there was only sadness and despair and longing. It broke my heart. A part of me was angry that this story didn’t end in a positive light, and yet, I understood that it only made it more real.

They finished without a flair, ending on notes so low that I knew the story would never fully be as happy as it was in the beginning. The lights came on, and the musicians stood, bowing to the very calm clapping of the audience.

I didn’t bother with the polite tapping of hands, I banged mine together, ensuring everyone knew that I fucking loved the show.

The woman with the cello glanced up, her gaze somehow managing to find mine almost instantly.

I blushed, wondering if she too thought I was callous and loud like literally everyone else in the building. I didn’t care, though. I absolutely loved the performance, and I was going to show my love the way normal people did, not the fancy people who considered this their due because they paid. Well, I didn’t pay for shit.

Once the musicians left the floor, the audience began talking again. They weren’t loud like a mall or public space, however, it was more than obvious that a lot of personal conversations were happening.

“What did you think?” Seb asked, handing me a swatch of fabric from his jacket pocket.

I dabbed the cloth under my eyes, wanting to blow my nose in it but figuring that would be rude. “It was amazing. So sad, yet amazing.”

“Pardon the interruption.” Seb and I both turned to see our waiter again, empty handed to my disappointment. “Olivia Grace has requested to meet you both.”

Was that the cellist I’d made eye contact with? Or were we in trouble because I’d clapped too loud? Could you be in trouble for that?

Sebastian didn’t seem worried, so I let him pull me up from the chair, wrapping my arm around his elbow as we followed the waiter. If I was honest, I was still feeling slightly hungry. Not starving, although I knew I’d need a snack before bed.

We went down the stairs and then veered off the red carpet in the direction that the instruments were carried off in.

The doors we passed through blended in with the walls, sliding to the side as they opened like a secret passageway. Immediately, the high-class vibe of the room disappeared. The hall was still clean, but it lacked the golden touches, the over-the-top decorations that no one seemed to compliment because they simply expected it to exist.

My eyes ached with how bright the hall was, and I relied on Seb’s nearness to guide me where I needed to be as I fought with my eyelids to open against the onslaught of potential blinding. Omegas were said to be sensitive to bright lights, that’s why we required dim and dark in our nest. Most alphas considered this a weakness, as proof that we weren’t meant to be out in public.

I always thought it simply showed weakness on the betas and alphas. They enjoyed the brighter lights because they needed them to see. Omega eyesight was superior enough to be satisfied by the low settings.

All of my thoughts about designations disappeared as the waiter opened a random door, letting us step through. Fortunately, the lights were softer here, more normal for a room. Along one wall was a couch, a few thin blankets tossed randomly along the arms and back. The opposite wall had two racks. One with normal clothes and the other with fancier pieces. Against the back wall was a beauty station. A desk that held a mirror, lights all around it, and a lot of makeup and hair products. Sitting on the little round seat in front of it was Olivia Grace. She looked almost the same except her hair was now up, the long locks exposing a claiming mark on her neck.

I knew she was an alpha, her honey scent filled the space and forced my nose to inhale it.

“Thank you for coming,” she said. Her voice was sweet and filled with an accent that made it painfully obvious she was bilingual.

“You were amazing,” I told her.

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