The Piano Sonata of Divorce Chapter 2

I sat before my father’s grave for three hours, the silence broken only by the wind whispering through the cypress trees. The sky was a heavy, oppressive grey, a cruel echo of the day he left me.

In my head, a phantom concerto played on a loop.

The piano. It used to be my world.

Ten years ago today, my mother ran off with my piano teacher. And my father, my quiet, gentle father, ended his life to the soundtrack of my playing. After that, the piano became a ghost that haunted my every waking moment. A nightmare I could never escape.

I’ve always believed I was the one who killed him. If I had never learned to play, if I hadn't touched the keys that day... maybe he would still be here.

And now, ten years later, my own wife had invited the son of that monster into my home, sat him down at a piano, and let him tear open my oldest, deepest wound.

The most bitter irony? The piece they were playing was a melody I recognized—a variation of the breakout hit I wrote for Aurora, the song that launched her into stardom. The ladder I had painstakingly built for her, plank by painful plank, had just become the blade she plunged into my back.

Finally, I stood up to leave, my joints stiff and cold. As I walked away from my father’s final resting place, my phone rang. It was Aurora.

"It's late. Why aren't you home?" she asked, her tone flat.

I said nothing.

The old me, the Ethan of yesterday, would have been bursting with excitement. I would have told her the new song was my best work yet, that it would solidify her legacy, take her to heights she’d only dreamed of.

But now, the words felt like ash in my mouth.

Silence stretched between us. When I didn't answer, her voice sharpened, climbing a few degrees. "Did you hear me? I'm talking to you."

"I'm at the cemetery," I said, my voice hollow.

A pause on her end. Then, with a sigh of impatience, she said, "You're not seriously upset about me playing the piano with Leo, are you? It's been ten years, Ethan. Don't you think it's time to let it go?"

I wanted to scream, to rage, but a vicious cramp suddenly twisted my gut, so intense that the phone slipped from my grasp and clattered onto the pavement.

Aurora must have heard the thud, because her tone shifted instantly. "Is it your stomach? Are you having an attack?" she asked, a flicker of concern in her voice. "Stay right where you are. I'm coming to take you to the hospital."

All those years, locked away in my studio, pouring my soul into her music… I’d forgotten to eat, to sleep, to take care of myself. The relentless pace had shredded my health, leaving me with a severe stomach condition.

My hands trembling, I fumbled in my bag for my medication. I dry-swallowed the pills, and after a few moments, the razor-sharp pain began to dull. I pushed myself to my feet and started walking again.

Just then, a sleek black car—Aurora's car—screamed past me. It didn’t even slow down. A moment later, my phone buzzed with a text.

[Leo twisted his ankle. It looks bad. Rushing him to the ER.]

[Take your meds. I'll come back for you as soon as I can.]

I stared at the screen, my face a blank mask. I wasn't surprised. Of course. Leo would never miss a chance to monopolize her attention. And Aurora… she knew his little games. She understood his manipulations perfectly.

But she enjoyed them. She thrived on being needed, on being the center of his world.

Because she didn't give a damn about mine.

Fine. It didn't matter anymore. Because from this moment on, I didn't give a damn about hers either.

I scrolled through my contacts until I found my lawyer's number.

"I'm getting a divorce," I said, my voice steady and cold. "And I want you to immediately terminate all free-use licenses of my songs for Aurora Vance. Effective immediately."

She was the star of the label, the queen of the charts. I was the chief songwriter, the ghost in the machine. She glittered in the spotlight; I toiled in the shadows. For ten years, I had taken a nobody from a dimly lit club and molded her into a superstar.

But somewhere along the way, the love we shared had faded into nothing.