Chapter 1

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?"

I discovered the five-year-old video had been leaked just as I was leaving a celebration dinner, hailing a ride-share to go home.

In our music studio’s SnapChat group, someone had forwarded the leaked video.

Several people were tagging me.

"Is that really you, Iris? Must be a rumor, right?"

"Iris has always been so reserved, so cool and composed. The person in the video might look a little like her, but it can’t possibly be our senior."

"Am I the only one curious about who the guy on the ground is?"

The group chat buzzed with speculation.

When I didn't reply, the conversation slowly shifted back to congratulating me on winning the International Violin Gold.

I sent a quick "Thank you" in the chat.

No response to the video questions.

As the city lights flickered on, the night air grew cold and sharp.

I opened the video, watching that heart-wrenching version of myself.

She felt like a stranger, distant, like a ghost from a past life.

My phone rang just then—a long string of unfamiliar numbers.

I usually didn't answer unknown calls and was about to hang up.

But watching that video had me distracted.

My thumb slipped, and somehow, I hit "answer."

On the other end, Adrian, whom I hadn't heard from in five years, spoke, his voice clearly agitated:

"Is that really you in the video?"

That all-too-familiar voice, cool yet laced with undeniable urgency, hit me unexpectedly.

It was like an unseen hand suddenly, violently, clutched my heart.

My breath hitched, sharp and ragged, as if a dark, humiliating secret had been yanked into the light.

I fumbled, almost dropping the phone, desperate to hang up.

His voice on the line seemed to tremble:

"You... you actually cared about me? Why, for all these years, did I never know?"