A Symphony of Scars

Ryan raised the chair in his hands, and with a swift motion, brought it down on me, his eyes cold as they met mine. I was paralyzed by the fear in my eyes, unable to move.

"Ah!" The pain shot through me like a jolt of electricity, and I couldn't contain the blood-curdling scream that escaped my lips.

My fingers were crushed instantly, mangled and bleeding, as I stared at them in disbelief. The physical pain, sharp and intense, barely compared to the crushing weight in my chest.

It was over. Everything was ruined.

My hands, my mother's dreams—everything was shattered in that single moment.

Tears streamed down my face in heavy, relentless drops.

Ryan rushed toward me, pulling me into an embrace. I leaned silently into his broad, warm chest, but the words that came from above were as cold as ice. "I'm sorry, Susan. Please, forgive me just this once. I know this isn't fair to you. But Miranda's mother died saving me. Once she makes it into the orchestra, I'll have repaid my debt."

"Repay?" I repeated, a bitter laugh escaping me. "Ryan, so your way of repaying Miranda is by hurting me?"

With every ounce of strength I had left, I pushed him away and raised my bloodied hands, hatred flashing in my eyes. "Do you know how long I've worked for this chance, how hard I've fought for it?"

Maybe it was the look of fury in my eyes that made him hesitate, but for a moment, Ryan seemed almost guilty.

However, it was fleeting. His face hardened again, and his voice was cold, detached. "Enough. What's the point of all this? This has been Miranda's dream, and her mother's dying wish."

At that moment, I realized with crystal clarity that I was done with this heartless man.

I scoffed, the words bitter in my mouth. "And what gives you the right to destroy me for her dream?"

Ryan didn't even flinch. "It's fine, Susan. I know you're upset. Don't worry. I'll make it up to you. Once Miranda joins the orchestra, I'll take you under the Menzies' wing, and you'll never have to worry about anything again."

Hearing this made my stomach churn with disgust.

Taking a deep breath, I spoke slowly, my voice unwavering, "Then listen carefully. I don't need your so-called compensation. I'm breaking up with you."

His face turned pale. "Are you serious?" he asked, his voice darkening. "I won't agree to this."

He glared at me, his face twisted in anger. "Susan, I'll let it slide this time. But if you say something like that again, I'll really break up with you."

With that, Ryan turned away without another glance, storming out of the room.

I watched him leave, helpless, as I collapsed onto the cold floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

Ryan and I met during college.

It was a rainy day, and I was lost in thought while crossing the street when he reached out and pulled me back just in time to avoid being hit by a car.

I looked up, shaken, and found myself staring at his handsome, aloof face.

It was because of his life-saving act that I found myself falling for him, helplessly.

After much persistence on my part, Ryan agreed to date me.

But as we got closer, I started noticing something unsettling—there seemed to be someone more important to him than me.

Her name was Miranda, and she had grown up alongside Ryan.

Every time Miranda called, Ryan would drop everything and rush to her side.

He even went so far as to lock me on the rooftop the night before the final round of a piano competition for her sake.

That night, I had been locked out for hours, missing the competition and ending up with a fever that spiked to 104°F. Meanwhile, Miranda won first place.

The next day, Ryan had casually explained that his actions were just a way of repaying a debt.

Miranda came from a single-parent family. Her mother had worked as a maid at the Menzies.

After a fire, Miranda's mother had escaped, but when she realized Ryan was still inside, she went back in to save him.

Ryan was rescued, but Miranda's mother suffered severe burns and passed away in the hospital shortly after.

In gratitude for her mother's sacrifice, the Menzies treated Miranda like a daughter, showering her with love and care.

And whenever Miranda asked for anything, Ryan would always oblige.

Just like now—Ryan was willing to destroy my hands, my future, just to ensure that Miranda didn't have to face competition from me in tomorrow's audition.

But why was he repaying a debt to Miranda by destroying my hands and dreams?

Whenever I questioned his relationship with Miranda, Ryan would explode in anger, insisting that he only saw Miranda as a sister. He would tell me not to overthink things.

Before, I had forgiven him time and time again, driven by both my love for him and my gratitude to him for saving my life.

But now, staring at my bloodied hands, broken and unrecognizable, I cried and laughed, my emotions in turmoil.

When I was six, my father had an affair and abandoned me and my mother. The betrayal devastated my mother, and she cut herself because she couldn't bear the pain of his departure.

Her depression, coupled with the scars on her hands, led her to abandon her dream of playing the piano.

But one day, after hearing me play, my mother's eyes lit up. She found renewed hope.

She started working tirelessly, teaching me piano and hiring the best tutors, sending me to various competitions.

She even worked as a delivery driver and washed dishes, all to support me and give me the chance to succeed.

My mother, who had sacrificed so much for me, was diagnosed with cancer while I was in college and passed away far too soon.

On her deathbed, she held my hand and shared her final wish with me.

She wanted me to continue studying music, join an orchestra, and become Johannes's student.

But now, because I had fallen for Ryan, I missed my chance—my hands were destroyed, and I would never be able to play the piano again.

I used to not understand why my mother had been so consumed with grief after my father left, to the point of self-harm.

Now, I wondered—was this the price of loving someone?

If so, then I would never dare to love again.

The faint smell of disinfectant seeped into my nostrils as I lay in the hospital bed.

I furrowed my brow and instinctively glanced at the clock.

By now, the orchestra's selection process should have been long over.

I quietly rested against the bed, my gaze drifting to a group of nurses chatting excitedly.

"Hey, did you hear that Mr. Fraiche is leading the orchestra's selection here?"

"Yeah, I just saw the news. Miranda made it into the orchestra and became Mr. Fraiche's student. She's so impressive."

"She really is. Not only is she beautiful and plays the piano wonderfully, but she also has this childhood sweetheart, the heir of Menzie Corporation. They've grown up together. During her speech earlier, she even mentioned that boyfriend of hers!"

"Wow, sounds like something out of a fairy tale!"

The two nurses laughed as they walked out of the room.

I watched them leave, and the doctor's helpless sigh echoed in my mind.

"What a shame. You're such a beautiful young woman... but what happened to those hands?"

I hurriedly asked the doctor, anxiety tightening my chest, "Doctor, if my hands heal, will I still be able to play the piano?"

"Physically, your hands might recover," the doctor said, eyeing me strangely before continuing, "But even if you can play, it will never be at the level it once was..."

His words felt like a bucket of ice-cold water, completely shattering my last bit of hope.

Just then, the door swung open.

I saw Ryan walk in, followed by Miranda, who was holding a bouquet, her face glowing with joy.

I turned my face coldly toward them, my voice flat. "What are you doing here? Trying to rub it in my face?"

Miranda bit her lip, her big eyes full of hurt. "Susan, please don't think that. I heard from Ryan that you were hurt, and I wanted to come check on you."

She gently placed the bouquet beside my bed.

"Really?" I sneered, "Are you saying you don't know Ryan is the one who broke my hands..."

Ryan's face turned pale at my words.

He clenched his fists at his sides, his voice sharp with anger. "You can hate me all you want, but Miranda is innocent. She didn't know any of this."

Innocent? I couldn't help but laugh bitterly.

I remembered countless times when Miranda had taunted me, telling me how Ryan had locked me on the balcony to keep me from making it to the competition, how she had arranged for others to bully me, warning me to stay away from Ryan.

Ignoring the excruciating pain in my hands, which were wrapped in bandages, I lifted them and hurled the bouquet Miranda had placed by my bed to the floor.

Miranda jumped back, startled, letting out a terrified scream as she clung to Ryan.

Ryan immediately erupted in fury, pointing at me, his voice full of rage. "Susan, you crazy woman! Miranda came here to check on you, to bring you flowers, and you repay her kindness by throwing her gift on the floor?!"

I coldly retorted, "I'm allergic to pollen. Didn't you know that, Ryan?"

Ryan froze, his anger fading to embarrassment as he stood there, momentarily speechless.

He mumbled an apology. "Sorry, Susan. I forgot—"

I cut him off, my voice resolute, "It's over."