12
That night, Gavin called me.
I stared at his familiar photo on the screen, my heart aching with bitterness.
How could the boy whose eyes once sparkled with love become a man juggling his wife
and mistress?
The phone rang incessantly until I answered.
“Aria.” Gavin’s voice still carried the charm of old, haunting like a ghost. “The project’s
almost done. I’ll be back in three days.”
“I bought a house in Hawaii. The balcony overlooks the ocean. Once your leg heals, we’ll stay there for two months. Sound good?”
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed with a message.
It was from Savanna.
She had sent photos of a luxurious villa–my favorite style, furnished with high–end
decor.
Prominently displayed in the living room was a grand piano.
I recognized it instantly.
It was the collector’s Steinway Gavin had purchased at auction just last year.
At the time, he told me we didn’t need it.
“You’re a dancer, not a pianist,” he had said with a dismissive shrug.
The lie was unraveling now.
The truth pieced itself together: Gavin had bought that piano for Savanna
She wasn’t just a fling. She had been in his life all along.
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“Aria? Are you still there? Are you feeling okay?” Gavin’s concerned voice cut through the
haze.
Meanwhile, my phone lit up with more photos from Savanna–pictures of Gavin’s familiar silhouette from every angle.
“Gavin,” I said softly. “Where is Savanna?”
“She’s gone,” he replied quickly.
“Oh?” I scrolled through the latest photo. “Where did she go?”
“I don’t know.” There was a long pause. “Aria, why can’t you let this go? She’s just a poor, lonely girl. You were once alone too–don’t hold this against her.”
“Is that so?” My voice turned icy.
Perhaps sensing the shift, Gavin’s tone hardened. “Stop it, Aria. I’m not getting a divorce. You know no one can win against me in court.”
13
