Falling for My Boyfriend's Uncle

Chloe Jones's POV

After finishing the solo, I took a deep breath and held my hands above the keys.

"Chloe, where's the emotion you're supposed to express? Is this your attitude toward this performance?!"

Sienna Davis's stern voice cut through the empty rehearsal hall.

She leaned on her walnut cane with the silver handle, her eyes boring into my hands through her gold-rimmed glasses.

As the only student she personally taught this year, I carried the weight of nearly all her expectations.

There was only one week left until the solo performance at the school's founding ceremony, and I had just completely botched what should have been a flawless rehearsal.

My head felt stuffed with cotton.

More precisely, I couldn't stop seeing that photo from a minute ago.

Before rehearsal started, my phone on the music stand had buzzed.

The screen lit up with a picture message from Dahlia Thompson.

No text, just a photo taken in a dimly lit dance studio.

In the photo, my boyfriend Owen White wore his favorite gray hoodie, his hand resting naturally on Stella Clark's slim waist.

Stella gazed up at him, and they stood side by side against the practice mirror. Owen wore that warm, easy smile I knew so well.

That smile used to be mine alone.

I couldn't shake any of it.

I tried to keep playing, but a jarring wrong note suddenly shattered the C minor harmony, throwing off the entire rhythm.

"Enough!" Sienna struck her cane hard against the wooden floor with a dull thud.

She strode up to me, her wrinkled but still elegant face etched with disappointment.

"Chloe, if this is your attitude, I think you should give up this solo."

"If you can't fully commit to the performance, I'll consider giving up on teaching you."

The air in the rehearsal hall turned heavy. I sat frozen on the piano bench, my eyes burning.

For three years, since that nightmare of a stalking incident, I'd shut myself off from the world. It was the piano and Sienna's approval that gave me the courage to stand on stage again.

I absolutely couldn't lose this opportunity.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Davis." My voice came out shaky. I bit my lower lip hard, forcing myself to shove the image of Owen and Stella together out of my head.

I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath of the rehearsal room's familiar scent of rosin and aged wood.

I'm Chloe, and I'm going to become a world-class pianist.

No one can ruin my stage, not even Owen.

When I opened my eyes again, I channeled all my hurt, anger, and frustration into my fingertips.

I started the piece again, pouring everything I had into this solo.

The delicate, emotion-soaked piano notes filled the hall once more.

The outside world faded away. I was completely lost in the sorrow and despair of this piece, until the last chord hung in the air and slowly dissolved into silence.

The piano room went still.

After a long moment, a rare smile finally softened the tight line of Sienna's mouth.

She looked at me seriously and said with a barely noticeable note of approval, "This is the state you should be in, Chloe. That's all for today. Come back here on time tomorrow afternoon."

When the heavy door of the rehearsal hall closed behind Sienna, I collapsed against the piano lid as if every ounce of strength had drained from my body, tears streaming uncontrollably onto the black and white keys.

I pulled out my phone and opened the photo Dahlia had sent again.

Today was October 12th, the one-year anniversary of Owen and me getting together.

All day, I hadn't received any gift from him, not even a generic "Good morning, happy anniversary" text.

I'd been lying to myself all day, convincing myself he was just swamped with his economics coursework, or buried in some financial investment simulation project.

But he was dancing with Stella.

Stella, that dance major who always looked at every guy with those deceptively innocent eyes.

And Dahlia, who sent the photo, had been jealous of Sienna's favor toward me since the start of school. She'd been gunning for me at every turn. She was my sworn enemy.

"Hey, genius girl, did Sienna tear into you again?" The rehearsal hall door swung open, and my best friend Layla Scott walked in carrying two hot lattes.

She wore a leather jacket and Doc Martens, looking as sharp and no-nonsense as always.

When Layla saw my red-rimmed eyes and disheveled state, the smile dropped from her face instantly.

She hurried over, set the coffee down with a thunk, and snatched the phone from my hand.

"Let me see what could make my tough-as-nails Chloe cry."

Layla's face darkened after just one glance.

"Are you kidding me?"

She stared at the screen, her voice rising.

"Today is your one-year anniversary! Not only did Owen not show up, but he went to practice dancing with Stella? And this Dahlia, she sent this photo just to twist the knife on purpose. Doesn't Owen know Dahlia has been spreading rumors about you all these years?!"

"Layla, stop..." I covered my face, curling into myself, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Why should I stop? Chloe, you just bottle everything up!" Layla grabbed my shoulders, her tone blazing with anger. "He's trampling all over your feelings! He not only blew off your anniversary but hung out with the person you hate most!"

I looked up, my vision swimming with tears, but my dependence on this relationship made me instinctively rush to Owen's defense.

"Maybe... maybe it was just a coincidence." My throat felt tight, but I still made excuses for him. "You know Owen is just that kind of friendly, outgoing person. He doesn't know how to say no to people."

"He was like that with me at first too. He might not care about these romantic anniversaries, but deep down he loves me."

"If he really loved you, he'd put you first!" Layla let out a bitter laugh, looking at me with eyes full of pity. "Chloe, how can you be this naive?"

"He doesn't give a damn about what you sacrifice for him!"

Just then, my phone buzzed.

It was a message from Owen.

My heart lurched. I immediately opened the screen.

What appeared was a $500 transfer notification.

Followed by a brief text.

[Chloe, sorry babe, something came up today, can't spend the anniversary with you. Take the money and buy yourself something you like, or go to your favorite restaurant with Layla. I'll make it up to you another day, love you.]

I stared at those words "something came up," and the photo of him dancing with Stella flashed through my mind again. My chest constricted, making it hard to breathe.

"What did he say?" Layla leaned in closer.

I quickly closed the screen and forced out a smile that looked more like a grimace.

"He... he sent me money. He said something came up today and he'll make it up to me another day. See, he actually remembered today was our anniversary, right?"

Layla looked at me, watching me torture myself with this pathetic self-deception. She sighed helplessly and pulled me into a tight hug.

"Chloe, don't sell yourself short. You deserve someone who treats you like you're their whole world."

After parting with Layla, I walked alone through the streets of Lunaris in late autumn.

The cold wind swept fallen leaves past my feet, and I instinctively pulled my coat collar tighter.

My heart was drowning in disappointment, yet I still tried to comfort myself with that half-hearted apology text and that impersonal transfer.

At least he still remembered the anniversary.

At least he still said he loved me.

I told myself this over and over, trying to let that familiar false warmth of self-deception wrap around my heart, which had grown fragile and desperate from lack of security.

As I passed by the underground lounge bar called "Velvet Raven" near campus, the flickering blue neon light caught my eye.

I instinctively glanced through the floor-to-ceiling glass window.

Just that one glance, and I froze in place.

Through the hazy lights and noisy crowd, I clearly saw Owen pushing open the bar door. On his left was Dahlia, grinning from ear to ear, and on his right was Stella, looking down with a soft smile, practically pressed against him.

The three of them walked toward the bar laughing and talking. Owen even casually pulled out a bar stool for Stella.

This was what he called "something came up."

He missed our one-year anniversary, not because of schoolwork, not because of an investment project, but to go drinking with my enemy and another woman.