Chapter 58
Pantheon Winter Orchestra
S ome moments define your life, and Pantheon’s Winter Orchestra was one of them.
The orchestra abruptly ceased, leaving a vacuum filled only by the steady thud of my heart and the whisper of my breath. I rose from my seat, drawing the attention of the packed opera house, where every gaze was fixed upon me in the plush red seats. With the spotlight on me, my short white tulle gown sparkled, accentuated by the bows on my shoulders that floated behind me like ethereal wings.
I lifted my gaze to the angelic frescoes adorning the ceiling. Behind me, the restored columns stood tall and proud like the maestro’s outstretched arms. This place had led me to Lucie. To Levi. And now, to Pantheon.
With a silent vow, I positioned the Cigno Nero against my chin, the wood cool beneath my touch.
It was time to play the cadenza.
With a gentle stroke, the first velvety note floated from my violin, weaving its way through the opera house. But I couldn’t play without searching for Levi. I didn’t see him alongside my friends seated in the balconies. He promised he’d be here.
I scanned the rows quickly, my hand slightly trembling. Grandma and her disposable camera were ready to capture every moment from the second row. Despite the hardships we had faced, her zest for life was undiminished. Dad was next to her; he had his monitored bracelet hooked around his foot, but the judge had allowed him to come see me play before his five-year sentence to prison. Tears glistened in his eyes. He thought of Mom too.
But Levi…
I swallowed. I need him. Where is he?
Only two empty seats remained in the front row with a reserved sign on them.
Next to them, perched on the stairs, as if guarding the spots so no one would sit there, was Levi.
I sucked in a breath, feeling the sting of tears behind my eyes. He’d saved the spots for Mom and Lucie so they’d be there with me. As a tear trickled down my cheek, the crowd’s murmuring faded into the background, and I closed my eyes.
It’s time to speak.
I pushed the boundaries of the Cigno Nero, my bow traversing the fingerboard with lightning speed. Spiccato passages leaped from the strings like thunder sparks while ricochet bowing sent waves of sound enchanting the air. It felt as if music could transcend time and space, reuniting the living and the dead in one place.
Lucie. Mom. I kept my promise to you both.
I squinted, my violin breaking like hundreds of tormented hearts before singing like what I felt love would sound like—deep, warm, and powerful. My whole body bent and bowed, goose bumps pricking down my skin. I was smiling but crying at the same time.
My cadenza was my favorite color of all. Gray. Levi .
Our love story and every dark nuance of it. It was about loss, love, and most importantly, how being alive had never felt so bright. By the way his unblinking stormy eyes remained locked on me, I knew he felt it too.
He’d always understood my music.
Launching into the staccato section, I unleashed a torrent of emotion, my bow slashing against the strings with raw intensity. With each forceful stroke, I poured every ounce of myself into the music, channeling my inner turmoil into a cacophony of sound. The tears continued to flow unabated, but at that moment, crying felt healing. We don’t cry because we’re weak; we cry because we’ve been strong too long.
I lowered my violin, completely washed out.
The audience rose to their feet, their applause thunderous.
Levi’s stoic facade crumbled as a single tear trailed down his cheek.
I always played for him.
It was our secret language.
My music made the world beautiful to him, but to me, he was the one who inspired it.