The Fireworks He Set For Her - Chapter 6: Chapter 6

I sent Rafael a few photos along with a text: "I've known all along. Cut the act. We're divorced. Stop looking for me."
Silence. Then his frantic excuses poured in.
"It was just a mistake—the kind any guy could make! You're overreacting!"
"And if I strayed, ever think maybe you drove me to it?"
"I never signed those papers! This divorce is bullshit. You can't just walk away!"
My voice was ice. "You said you'd sign if I cooked for Jenna. Remember?"
A choked pause. Then, shaky denial:
"That—that was a joke! I thought it was some random document! This doesn't count. You can't leave!"
"Get back here now, or I'll drag you home myself!"
"You're still carrying my child. You wouldn't dare—"
I glanced at my flat stomach, tears burning. "Our baby?"
"Gone. The night you watched fireworks with Jenna."
Rafael went dead silent. Then, raw fury: "You killed it?! How could you—"
"That was a LIFE, Lily! You heartless—"
I hung up, cheeks wet.
He'd known I was pregnant. Yet he'd made me cook for his mistress. Slapped me to keep her happy. Force-fed me crab roe, knowing I was allergic. Kicked me square in the stomach.
Cheated. Blamed me.
Some men don't deserve to be fathers.
But I never thought he'd fly overseas to hunt me down.
Mid-performance, he stormed the stage, yanking me off the bench. His grip was a vise.
"Lily. We're going home."
"What's this piano crap worth? You think it'll put food on the table?"
"I give you everything—why grovel in some concert hall?"
He'd never understand. The piano was my soul.
Not that public humiliation ever stopped him. His words lashed me in front of colleagues, the audience—but this time, a fellow musician shoved him back.
"She said NO." A fist connected with Rafael's jaw. "We know what you did. You're garbage. If I were her, I'd spit on your grave."
"She quit music FOR YOU. Ever support her? Even once?"
Rafael's face purpled. "She's MY WIFE. This isn't your—"
His glare found me, surrounded by my peers. "Lily. Now."
I stepped forward.
My junior's face fell. "Lily, don't—"
"Let me finish the set," I said quietly. "Then we'll talk. Stay and watch?"
Grudgingly, he nodded.
Back onstage, I poured every shattered piece of myself into the keys. The final note hung in the air—then the room erupted.
As the crowd filtered out, I spotted Rafael alone in the empty theater, staring at the stage.
Funny. He once told me he fell in love watching me play.