Page 39 of Symphony for Lies

I kept my fingers wrapped around hers, still feeling the lingering trembles of emotion.

When I looked back at the stage,all the musicians, except Zane, had left.

There was a moment of hesitation before he lifted his violin once more.But this time, it wasn’t for Jason.

His fingers moved over the strings; the first notes were soft, almost vulnerable. Gradually, they darkened. They came out fast and wild.

The melody swelled, raged, and exploded.

Zane’s eyes were closed, but his expression was tense as if he were fighting something no one else could see.As if he were screaming with his music.

It was breathtaking. But also terrifying.

And as the last note faded, it felt as though the air had been sucked from the room.

Zane lowered his violin, but he didn’t bow.

He simply turned around and left the stage.As if none of it had mattered.

As if he had never really been here at all.

The remaining musicians played their pieces one by one. It felt like being taken on a journey, each displaying their own unique style and soul. It was simply enchanting.

Tristan was the last to perform.

The room seemed to shrink as he walked to the piano, his presence filling the space effortlessly.

He hesitated momentarily, scanning the audience until our eyes met.

His crystal-blue eyes shimmered under the lights, and he smiled softly with a nod. I smiled back, lifting my hand in a small wave.

His grin widened before his expression turned serious as he started playing.

It was a soft, melodic sound that floated through the air like a whisper in the wind.

The room seemed frozen.

Each note carried something deep that touched the heart and awakened memories, as if time had stopped for a moment.

With a complex chord, he shifted the melody.

The deep and bright tones blended together, and I recognized them.

The metallic notes of wind chimes. The same tune I had heard the day I found the body. Only, they were woven into a melody.

A cold shiver crawled down my spine as my pulse began to race. I could no longer hear anything around me. Only the music. Only the memories it brought back.

The wind chimes.

The darkness.

The body.

The pain.

Chapter 11

I pressed a hand to my chest to calm my racing heartbeat. It had to be my imagination. There was no way the wind chimes sounded similar to Tristan’s composition. It was impossible.