Joy for the rest of your life

On the day I snagged the International Violin Gold, a five-year-old video of mine mysteriously resurfaced.

In the clip, torrential rain lashed down. I was kneeling beside a man, covered in blood, lying on the ground.

I screamed, my voice raw, begging for help, my face a mask of terror and despair.

That very night, Adrian, who hadn't contacted me in the five years since we broke up, called.

His voice, raw with disbelief and a painful uncertainty, cracked: "You... you actually cared about me? Why, for all these years, did I never know?"

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