Chapter 7: Getting to Know Again
1437words
"Why would you even ask that?" I countered, gripping the folder tighter. "We're divorced, Julian. It stopped mattering the moment we signed those papers."
Julian moved to the window, silhouetting himself against the afternoon light. "I just need to know."
I inhaled slowly, steadying myself. "Look, it took everything I had to let you go. Please don't drag me back through that hell."
He turned, his face a battlefield of emotions. "I looked into your past. You were winning international competitions at ten—a genuine prodigy. Why throw that away?"
"Family duty," I said flatly. "Dad needed an heir for the company."
"Yet here you are, choosing music after all."
I nodded. "Because without it, I'm not really alive."
Julian moved closer, his voice dropping. "Vienna offered you a place years ago—right before our marriage. You turned them down because of me, didn't you?"
I stared at him, genuinely shocked. "How could you possibly know that?"
"David mentioned it," Julian said quietly. "He told me it was your lifelong dream, sacrificed on the altar of our sham marriage."
I gave a humorless laugh. "Ancient history now."
Julian's eyes drifted to my open suitcase. "So you're really leaving for Vienna?"
"I fly out next month," I confirmed. "This is my second chance, and I'll be damned if I waste it again."
Julian fell silent, then: "Would you play for me? Just once before you go."
I hesitated. The request felt invasive, too intimate—but something in his expression made refusal impossible.
"Fine," I said, moving to the piano bench. "Any requests?"
"'Waiting.' The original version."
My fingers froze above the keys. The original "Waiting" was my heart laid bare—every note saturated with my naive, desperate love for him.
I played it anyway. Each phrase carried fragments of the past—watching him across crowded lecture halls, desperate attempts to earn a single genuine smile during our marriage, and finally, the bittersweet release of letting go.
When the final note faded, I turned to find Julian directly behind me, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"I've never heard anything so beautiful," he whispered. "Was that really how you felt about me?"
I nodded once. "Every note."
Julian's hand rose toward my cheek, then faltered and fell away. "God, Mei. I never really knew you at all."
He turned to leave, pausing at the threshold. "Vienna will be lucky to have you."
Only after the door clicked shut did I allow the tears to fall. I'd convinced myself I was over him, but five minutes in his presence had shattered that comfortable lie.
***
I threw myself into Vienna preparations with almost manic intensity. Visa applications, housing contracts, course registrations—anything to keep my mind off Julian's visit.
David proved invaluable, leveraging his connections at the Academy to smooth my transition.
"You're going to thrive there," he assured me over coffee. "The musical heritage alone is intoxicating, not to mention the caliber of instruction."
I smiled and nodded, but a knot of anxiety tightened in my chest. Leaving meant closing the door on my past—on Julian—permanently.
A week before my departure, I gave a farewell recital at the local concert hall. The audience was packed with well-wishers—even my father attended, looking prouder than I'd ever seen him.
Only Julian was conspicuously absent.
After the performance, I was swarmed with well-wishers. Former classmates, teachers, and local music critics all wanted photos and to offer their congratulations.
As I collected my sheet music backstage, an usher approached. "Ms. Lin? Mr. Hayes asked me to deliver this to you."
It was a small velvet box. Inside nestled a pair of platinum earrings shaped like miniature grand pianos, each key inlaid with a tiny diamond.
No card. No message needed.
I fastened them to my ears with trembling fingers, uncertain whether they represented goodbye or something else entirely.
The following afternoon, I literally collided with Isabelle outside my favorite café. She looked thinner, shadows beneath her eyes that makeup couldn't quite conceal.
"Vienna, huh?" she said without preamble. "Congratulations on your escape."
"Thanks," I replied cautiously.
Isabelle stirred her latte aggressively. "Any idea why Julian's suddenly become classical music's biggest fan?"
I blinked in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"He's been devouring music history books like they're quarterly reports," she said with a bitter laugh. "Even hired some poor piano teacher who has to suffer through his complete lack of talent twice a week. Won't even take my calls anymore—says he 'needs space to figure things out.'"
I was speechless. Julian Hayes—the man who once called classical music "pretentious background noise"—taking piano lessons?
"He's different since you left," Isabelle continued, watching me closely. "The ice king has apparently melted. He's holding town halls with entry-level employees, showing up at charity functions he used to delegate, even volunteers teaching music at that children's home downtown."
I struggled to reconcile this description with the Julian I'd known—the man who once fired an assistant for scheduling a meeting during his golf time.
"What the hell did you do to him?" Isabelle demanded, jealousy and confusion warring in her voice. "For years, his priorities were crystal clear: work first, me second, everything else nowhere. Now he's like… a human being."
"I didn't do anything," I said honestly. "We're divorced, remember?"
Isabelle studied me for a long moment, then gathered her designer purse. "Whatever. Enjoy Vienna."
After she stalked away, I remained frozen, coffee cooling untouched. Had Julian truly transformed? And more importantly—why now, when it was too late?
***
The week before my flight, I visited Lin Group headquarters to say goodbye to my father.
"Take care of yourself in Europe," my father said, embracing me with surprising emotion. "Call me anytime, day or night."
I hugged him back tightly. "Thank you for believing in me this time."
As I waited for the elevator, the doors opened to reveal Julian himself. He looked exhausted but razor-focused, immaculate in a charcoal suit, clutching a leather portfolio.
"Mei," he said, clearly surprised. "Visiting your father?"
"Final goodbyes," I confirmed, stepping into the elevator beside him.
We descended in excruciating silence. I snuck a glance at his profile and caught him doing the same.
"The earrings look good on you," he said suddenly.
My hand flew to the piano earrings I'd worn every day since receiving them. "They're beautiful. Thank you."
The elevator reached the lobby. Julian stepped back, gesturing for me to exit first.
"Mei," he called as I moved past him. "Could I buy you a coffee? Just for a few minutes?"
I should have refused. Instead, I heard myself say, "Okay."
In the sleek corporate café, Julian Hayes—the man whose confidence bordered on arrogance—fidgeted with his coffee cup like a teenager on a first date.
"So," I said, breaking the awkward silence, "Isabelle tells me you're taking piano lessons."
Julian's eyebrows shot up. "You've spoken with Isabelle?"
I nodded, watching him carefully.
"Yes," he admitted with a self-deprecating smile. "I'm absolutely terrible at it, but I wanted to understand… your world."
My pulse quickened traitorously. "Why would you do that now?"
Julian met my gaze unflinchingly. "Because I lived with you for a year and never bothered to know you. I didn't recognize your talent, didn't understand your sacrifices."
He paused, running a hand through his hair. "Then I saw you perform at the competition, and it was like seeing you for the first time. I finally understood what I'd thrown away."
His raw honesty left me speechless. This wasn't the calculated Julian Hayes I knew.
"I'm not trying to change your mind about Vienna," he added quickly. "I just needed you to know, before you leave, how sorry I am. I never gave us—you—a real chance."
I inhaled deeply. "Julian, what's done is done. We both need to move forward."
Julian nodded slowly. "You're right. I just wanted you to know that meeting the real you… it changed me."
We finished our coffee without further conversation. At the door, Julian pressed a business card into my hand.
"Hayes Group's Vienna office," he explained. "If you need anything—anything at all—they'll help you. Day or night."
I accepted it with a murmured thanks.
Outside, I couldn't resist glancing back. Julian stood framed in the café window, watching me go. The afternoon sun gilded his silhouette, and for a moment, he looked almost like a stranger—one I might have wanted to know.
In that moment, I realized with startling clarity that perhaps I had never truly known Julian Hayes either.
