7
I moved into my other house and started
living for myself. Gym, travel, dance classes,
the occasional male escort… and most
<
importantly, piano. I was going to be a
pianist. I enrolled in a prestigious music
academy, hired a top–notch instructor, and
settled into a routine: eat, sleep, piano, male
escort, repeat.
Three weeks later, Mrs. Davis called. “Mrs.
Morris, I heard you’ve… taken in a boy? Is
that wise? Master Ethan is furious. He threw
a tantrum and overturned the dinner table.”
“What do I care?” I hung up, leaving the
academy. As I walked out, I noticed a teenage
boy sitting on the steps, drawing a piano on
the pavement with chalk. It was Peter Chen,
the prodigy from the advanced program.
Fifteen years old, already a seasoned
<
competitor. I’d heard him play
―
breathtaking.
But he was aloof, never spoke to anyone. In
the two weeks I’d been there, we hadn’t
exchanged a single word.
“Peter,” I said. “Aren’t you going home?”
He looked up, dark hair falling into his eyes. He was strikingly handsome. “Mrs. Morris. I’ll go soon.” He returned to his drawing.
“You know me?”
He nodded. “You’re the best pianist in the adult program. I often listen to you play.”
Interesting. “We should jam sometime. I enjoy
your playing too.”
He shook his head sadly. “I can’t. I quit.”
“Why?”
He hesitated, then confided in me. His parents had lost everything, their comfortable life gone overnight. They could no longer afford his lessons. And he wasn’t their
biological son; he was adopted. Which made
them even less inclined to support his passion.
“I’ll sponsor you,” I offered. “But I get half your prize money from any competitions.”
L
Peter blinked, stood up, and after a moment’s
hesitation, shook my hand. “Deal. You can
have all of it.‘
وو
Life was funny. I had a new “son,” the same
age as Ethan.
Soon, my piano prodigy was calling me “Lily” and making himself at home in my music room. While I enjoyed my ice cream, I’d watch him play, struck by his resemblance to Ethan. Both brilliant, aloof, similar height and build, even their features were strikingly alike. But Ethan was a spoiled brat. Peter was a lone wolf.
<
He’d even clean my house and cook while I
practiced. When I finished, a delicious meal would be waiting. “Dinner’s ready, Lily,” he’d
say quietly, removing his apron.
“If you were my son, I’d be beaming,” |
teased, sitting down to eat.
Peter blushed, ducking his head. He was
adorable.
す
I wanted to be a mom again.
