Page 38 of Symphony for Lies

The black violin in his hands suited him. He stood tall, his gaze unreadable, as if the world around him didn’t matter.

I swallowed hard.

My palms felt cold.

The energy on stage was tangible, and then the music began.

Ella started first. Her flute sounded like a melancholic echo, soft and soothing. A tone from another world.

Then, deep cello tones followed. It was like a sharp blade cutting through the soul.

A shiver ran down my spine as I instinctively held my breath.

When Tristan joined in, I felt a wave of warmth. His melody sounded like hope, like a light in the darkness. I was so fixated on Tristan that I barely noticed when Zane didn’t follow.

He was searching for something. Or someone.

He let his bow glide over the strings softly, almost cautiously echoing the piano’s sound. But his eyes weren’t on his instrument.

He was looking into the audience.

My stomach tightened as his eyes found mine. He lifted his head just slightly, his expression unreadable.

There was movement in my peripheral, and I turned my head slightly without taking my eyes off the stage.

Ella.

Her lips rested on the flute, but her eyes had been watching Zane. As if she were following his gaze, they suddenly locked onto me.

It lasted only a fraction of a second that was so fast I wasn’t sure if I had imagined it. A moment swallowed by the flowing melody of the piece.

Yet, a strange feeling lingered.

Zane’s violin cut through the air like a dagger. His playing was powerful, raw, and so intense it was almost unbearable. This wasn’t music meant to soothe. It was music to consume you, own you, burn you alive. And yet, it was perfect.

The entire hall fell silent.

It was as if Jacob Wales had been brought back to life one last time.

As the final echoes faded, the entire audience rose to their feet with thunderous applause.

Zane lowered his violin, and his gaze dropped, but his jaw was clenched tight.

I turned to look at my grandmother, who had tears in her eyes. Without a second thought, I rummaged through my bag for tissues and handed her one.

But instead of taking it, she pulled me into her arms and wept. She hadn’t done that in a long time. Not since my grandfather’s death.

I felt overwhelmed; seeing her so emotional broke my heart. While everyone else remained standing, I sat back down with her and held her tightly.

“You’re such a wonderful girl,” she murmured. “I’m so proud of you, and I always will be. Never forget that.”

My brows furrowed.

Why did it sound like she was saying goodbye?

“Of course, I won’t forget,” I reassured, kissing her temple.

She took the tissue from my hand with a small smile and wiped her tears away.

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