Was It Love, or Just a Dream? 5

Tristan burst into the corridor, only to find an orange cat sitting in the corner of the wall, eyes cautious. “Looks like it was just a cat.” Cassie came over and softly reminded, “You should go back to her. I’ll take a cab and go home.” He frowned in disapproval. “It’s pouring out there. Forget about that and just stay with me.” She bit her lip, hesitant. “But Ms. Norton…” “Tell me, who’s your man?” His voice was seductive as he pinched her chin. Blood rushed to her cheeks again, and she replied softly, “You are.” “In that case, you’ll have to listen to me.” He took her hand and brought her into the concert hall. When the door opened again, Annabel was still sitting in her seat, quietly listening to the music as if nothing had happened. Tristan let out a subtle breath of relief, guiding Cassie to sit beside them. “Honey? The rain outside is pretty heavy, and Ms. Lawrence happens to like classical music as well. So, I told her she could stay.” Annabel responded with a soft hum, not exposing the lie. Throughout the rest of the concert, Tristan remained as attentive as ever, asking if she was cold, gently rubbing her stomach, even leaning in to ask if she wanted to leave early to rest. However, she knew his left hand had never let go of Cassie’s. Their fingers were still tightly intertwined, hidden between their seats. Just like that, she remembered the first time he held her hand. She was 16, and it had been snowing that night. He climbed over the wall behind her house, cheeks pink from the cold, and held out his frozen hands. “Anna, my hands are freezing. Can you warm them up for me?” he asked with a smile. She blushed, shyly slipping her hands into his, and he instantly closed his grip around hers. He never let go that night. Back then, his whole world had been her. But now, he held her in one hand and someone else in the other. A single tear slid silently down her cheek. Tristan quickly noticed it and wiped it off her cheek. “What’s wrong?” Annabel smiled. “The music is just moving me.” He chuckled deeply, voice full of indulgence. “You’re such a sensitive baby.” She kept quiet and just let him wipe away the tear. When the concert ended and the audience began to leave, Tristan didn’t let her go. Instead, he had staff roll in a series of instruments—grand piano, cello, violin… each one more luxurious than the last. “You said once that these were beautiful, so I rented them all at a high price.” He smilingly asked, “Do you like them?” A staff member quickly chimed in, eager to impress. “Mr. Morse went to great lengths for these. Some were acquired at auctions from private collectors, others temporarily borrowed from museums with special permission…” Off to the side, Cassie’s expression dimmed almost imperceptibly. Annabel tugged at her lips, ready to respond, when Cassie suddenly reached toward a nearby decorative tassel and pulled. “What’s this?” she curiously asked. “Don’t do that!” The staffer’s face went pale with panic, but it was all too late. A heavy, grinding clang echoed from above as the overhead rigging groaned to life. In the next instant, a massive lighting rig and sound equipment came crashing down. In a split-second blur, Tristan lunged, grabbing Cassie and shielding her with his body as they rolled to safety. Meanwhile, Annabel stood frozen, wide-eyed, as the shadow loomed over her… Then, everything crashed upon her. Agonizing pain tore through her body as she hit the ground, blood pooling beneath her. Through the haze of pain and fading consciousness, she heard Tristan’s frantic voice screaming her name. However, she knew the one in his arms wasn’t her.