One month ago.
The orchestra poured through the vast, historic concert hall. Its strings weeping and the melancholic melodies of Chopin's concerto waltzing in perfect unison within the ancient hall. Every instrument danced in harmony, following the pianist at the heart of the stage, her fingers gliding across the black and white keys with fluid grace that seemed to coax the air into a delicate, rhythmic pulse. She guided them all in a seamless, melancholic waltz, a hypnotic dance of sound, where each note fluttered and soared in a synchronized embrace. It was as though the air within these ancient walls, vibrated with enchantment of the past and the audience, moving along with the spell she had enchantingly woven.
"So, are you coming to the wedding?" Charlie whispered, leaning in to his best friend, Raphael "Rafe" Moretti, who was completely entranced by her spell.
"I'm still thinking about it," Rafe murmured absently, his gaze fixed on the very heart of the stage, unwavering. "It depends on whether Lila's going. If she's not, then probably not."
"Not even for your best friend?" Charlie teased, placing a hand over his chest in an exaggerated mock hurt.
Rafe turned to his friend, his eyebrows raised as if to tell him, 'Really?'. Charlie only shrugged, "It's kinda weird hearing about him settling down."
"Why is it weird?" Rafe wondered. Isn't it a good thing that their high school friend is finally settling down?
"I don't know," Charlie shrugged, leaning closer to the edge of the box next to Rafe. "There's just something about it that isn't right. There weren't any news about them dating, then all of a sudden, he's engaged to be married."
Rafe didn't bother keeping up with these society columns, let alone gossip. He only cared about the things that would directly affected his business. To him, reading such things are just a great waste of his attention. Charlie only did so because he enjoyed these things. His job in the film industry actually required him to know about these things. So if there were any news with regards to the friends they knew from high school, it'd be through Charlie.
"Maybe for once, he's keeping things private." he murmured quietly, though Charlie detected a certain edge from his tone.
"i don't know about that," he replied, leaning back in his seat. "But let me know if you're going. Because if you're going, then I'm going."
"I'm only going if Lila's going."
"So, technically, I'm only going if Lila's going too." Charlie declared, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice. It stung, as it always did, that Rafe always seemed to put Lila first, without fail.
It certainly made him wonder if he would've done the same, if he had pined over one girl ever since high school all up to his adulthood. He wondered if he would attend most of her concerts, leave her a bouquet of red roses that she loved and left before she knew who it was from. He wondered if he would've been satisfied, just watching from the sidelines and never making a move. No, Charlie realized, he didn't have the drive nor the patience in him to end up like his best friend.
He watched Rafe watching Lila Evadne with rapt attention, committing every inch of her performance into his memory. He had particularly liked this Chopin piece, though Charlie suspected that he only does so, was because Lila have always had a special fondness for Chopin. If this was devotion, Charlie certainly didn't want to have a part in it. It looked torturous, especially for a man as powerful and as handsome as Rafe. He could've chosen anyone, have anyone, and yet, he pined for the woman on the piano.
Rafe's gaze lingered on every graceful way of her body, moving in perfect harmony with her music. She looked so beautiful in her lavender dress, making him ache to trace his hands along the soft curve of her shoulders that were exposed. Her hair, elegantly twisted into a bun that spilled little soft curls, made her look like she had just stepped out of a Greek myth, a goddess in human form. She was so completely immersed in the melancholic music, so lost in the spell she was weaving, that he doubted she'd even notice if disaster would suddenly struck the stage. Not that it will, because so long as he was here, she would be safe.
"It had been years, Rafe," Charlie started, watching along with Rafe just as Lila began ending her piece, "why don't you just tell her how you feel? And save you all your misery."
"I don't want to risk it." he replied, finally leaning back against his seat, taking a sip of his whiskey, relishing on the soothing burn down his throat. "At least this way I would always remain close to her."
"I hope you don't actually believe that, because that's just bullshit."
Charlie's words earned him a glare from his friend, "Well believe it or not, I do. And besides, my line of work would always place her in danger. Especially if they know how precious she is to me."
"You have the resources to keep her safe, though?"
"But she wouldn't be free," he said, watching the brown liquid swirling in his hand. "At least this way, she can live her dream."
Charlie lingered over his friend's words, his earlier irritation replacing with sadness. Even though Rafe had always been private about his work, everyone knew that his line of work have always been dangerous. It didn't take a genius to figure out as well, seeing as he always had guards traveling with him everywhere, ensuring his safety, like his personal team of Secret Service.
A roar of applause captured their attention, and Charlie watched as their friend, Lila, finally stood facing the audience. With one hand on her piano, she took a bow to their thunderous applause. Only then did he felt a tap on his shoulder, causing him to turn his head away from the stage only to find Rafe, standing whilst holding the bouquet of red roses.
"I'm going to give these to her before the place gets full." he said, holding up the roses.
Charlie nodded, knowing that it was practically Rafe's protocol. Ever since Lila's very first concert, he had understood that she must never know it was Rafe, who had sent her those roses. Hell, she interrogated him many times, since, apparently, she believed that he knew everything about everyone. But he never gave his friend away, being the loyal friend that he is. Maybe one day though, he mused to himself, just so they could stop this endless dance and kiss already.
Rafe wanted to make sure that there would be little to no witnesses to what he's about to do. Judging by the roaring sound of applause that's still going on, he knew it would take some time before she would actually show up in her dressing room. So he marched on, walking by the empty hallways, taking the shortcut he had learned through the blueprint of the building that he had acquired days prior, which would've led into the backstage area and into her dressing room. Doing this certainly made him feel like he was some sort of phantom in this theatre.
Lila couldn't really see the crows with all the lights shining down on her, but she did make a few faint faces over the crowd. She can't see Charlie, who had told her few hours prior that he would be attending. She wondered where he sat, or if he'd bring Rafe with him as well. She made a mental note to ask her manager, Addie, about this later.
She still couldn't believe that it was over. She would never be tired of performing, but this one was particularly hard, as not only it ran over two weeks, but she had willingly chosen one of the most grueling setlists ever played. She didn't know why she did, though, maybe she just had a death wish. But still, now that her last performance was over, she let herself bask in the adoration and the admiration of her audience, letting their energy seep into her skin as she stored them deep down into her soul, feeling it slowly energizing her body.
Lila took one last bow, holding onto her bouquet of flowers close relishing on the applause washing over her. The theatre director handed her another bouquet of flowers, smiling warmly. "Congratulations," he murmured, though his voice almost lost in the noise of the audience's cheers. She shook his hand in return, thanking him for this opportunity before they were joined by Maestro Fioretti in the middle, the conductor of the orchestra, who was holding his own set of flowers. They all smiled at the photographers, snapping away from the bottom of the stage whilst exchanging a few polite words.
"Miss Evadne, you've truly done it. That was a triumph," Maestro Fioretti said, his voice filled with genuine admiration as they head towards the backstage area. "I'm sure the entire room will be buzzing about your performance for weeks, especially that Chopin piece at the end. That was truly incredible. You've moved us all."
Lila couldn't help but smile, a little out of breath from the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. "Thank you, Maestro. This wouldn't have been possible without your direction, as well."
"I've done this for many years, but it's rare, I have to admit, to play with a musician as talented as you." he said, his eyes alight with the thrill of the night's success. "I think you've set a new standard for young pianists."
"I hope not," she laughed, "it's already hard enough as it is."
No one ever openly acknowledged it, but the world of classical music demands a level of perfectionism that's almost brutal. A single piece can take weeks to master, with even the first ten minutes of a song requiring days of practice. It's simply not enough to play the right notes. Classical musicians must also capture the emotion, its nuances and establish an unspoken connection to the music. It is this relentless pursuit of flawlessness that makes the world of classical music so unforgiving. So to say that she had 'set a new standard for young pianists' would be a nightmare to her rather than it being something to be proud of. She wouldn't want to impose such pains to young musicians, trying to make it just as she did.
"Well I hope we'd be able to work together again next time," he gave her a little bow, before walking off to meet his wife, standing there already with his daughters, all beaming with pride.
She gave them a wave, before disappearing off into the direction of her dressing room. Just as she was halfway there, giving nods to musicians and the various stage crews passing by, she was joined by her close friend from college and manager, Addie. A petite woman with brown hair and tan skin, she have always been passionate about managing people, so Lila thought, who better could've managed her career, if it wasn't one of her closest friends?
Hooking her arm around Lila's whilst the other carried a clipboard, they made their way through the backstage. "Congrats, bestie! You've actually done it!" Addie exclaimed.
"What did the critics say?"
"All positives, so you don't have anything to worry about."
"It's that fast?"
"Girl, you've been performing for two weeks now. So yes." she said, scrolling through her phone to show Lila an article. "And it says there that tonight's performance is the most, and I quote, 'exceptional'."
"That's great." Lila replied, handing her back her phone.
"You certainly don't sound excited."
"I'm tired," Lila sighed. "You know how these concerts are."
"Ahh yes, I got you girl." she winked, "there's a surprise for you in your dressing room."
Lila found herself catching her breath as the earlier exhaustion was replaced with excitement. Had her mysterious admirer dropped by again? Time and time, she would ask the theatre security for the footage near her dressing room, but they would always come up with nothing. There were never witnesses around and yet, her admirer managed to slip by and place the same, beautiful bouquet of red roses on her dressing table. The same spot, with the same card that would read: Congratulations on your performance. Love, your longtime admirer.
"I can tell by that look on your face that you're expecting the roses?" Addie teased. "And no, I didn't catch him this time. Besides, for all I know, 'he' could actually be a 'she'. What kind of man these days would exert such effort to pick roses like that anyway?"
"It's not just any rose, Addie, it's English roses." she said, shrugging. "But I don't know, I just have this distinct feeling that it's a man."
"Well then, I'll leave you to it." she replied. "I'll be waiting in the lobby and we could head back to the hotel together."
"Okay." she said.
Lila have always hated walking alone in a theatre as old as this. It's dark, it's cold and one might never know what shadows would lurk around, so she would always have Addie or one of the members of the orchestra to walk along with her. No matter how many theatres she had performed in, she could never shake away that fear.
This time, especially, because just as she approached her door, which was left opened, something made her stop dead in her tracks, Clutching her flowers closer to her chest, she slowly stalked towards her opened door, seeing a shadow moving around within. If it's a ghost, she would scream. If it's a man, she would run.
She could feel the adrenaline coursing through her, a different kind than the one that had fueled her performance. Was it him, finally? Had her admirer finally decided to show up?
She pushed the door open, only to be greeted by a man that was once familiar to her. Dressed in a black tux with his once tousled hair pulled back, he looked as handsome as she remembered. And he was there, standing right in front of her dressing table, pinching one of the red petals of her roses that laid there. She stood there, frozen, until he spotted her through her reflection and turned, a smile twisting at the edges of his lips.
"Hello again, Lila." he said.