The Fireworks He Set For Her - Chapter 8: Chapter 8
You are reading The Fireworks He Set For Her, Chapter 8: Chapter 8. Read more chapters of The Fireworks He Set For Her.
"Lily, Rafael genuinely regrets what he did. As his friend, I can't stand seeing him suffer like this anymore."
I knew exactly what this was—another attempt to guilt me into taking Rafael back.
Shaking my head, I kept my voice steady but unyielding. "I have no interest in seeing him. You have no idea the kind of damage Rafael caused. If you did, you'd realize my life with him was one long tragedy."
"Some things can't be forgiven—not in this lifetime."
Seeing my resolve, Rafael's friend finally backed off. He placed a hand on my shoulder with a resigned sigh. "Alright, Lily. If that's your decision, I won't tell him you're here. Just... I hope you find the happiness you deserve."
After he left, I sat at the piano and played the same piece I'd been practicing when I first met Rafael all those years ago.
I'd already moved on. Hearing about his sudden "love" now didn't affect me—it was almost comical.
Him punishing Jenna wasn't some grand romantic gesture. It was just his pathetic attempt to ease his own guilt.
The truth was, Jenna was never the real problem. Even without her, there would've been others. Rafael would've found excuses to hurt me regardless. He never truly understood what it meant to be a husband.
Now? Seeing him like this just made my skin crawl.
The call came unexpectedly. My old piano teacher—the woman who'd shaped my career—had terminal cancer and wanted to see me one last time.
The moment I stepped off the plane back home, that voice froze me in my tracks.
"Lily... you're finally back!"
I turned to see a ghost of the man I once knew.
The Rafael I remembered was obsessively polished—not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle in his designer suits.
This shell of a man had graying hair, hollow cheeks, and clothes that looked like they hadn't been washed in weeks. Tears streamed down his face as he clutched at me with desperate, bloodshot eyes.
"Lily, I made Jenna pay for what she did to us. Please... come home. We can start over."
A bitter laugh escaped me. "I'm only here for my teacher. Don't waste your breath, Rafael."
He grabbed my coat sleeve, voice cracking. "Why do you always have to be so stubborn? If you'd just—"
Then came the confession that shattered everything:
"If you hadn't been so damn proud, maybe I wouldn't have resented you! You wanted to be some piano superstar while I was just some nobody scrambling to make it. You think I liked hearing people say I rode your coattails to success? I had talent too!"
The world tilted.
So this was the truth festering inside him all along.
Yes, I came from modest means—but his family had been destitute. When he confessed his business dreams but had no startup funds, I believed in him.
I entered competition after competition. Played wealthy donors' parties in flimsy dresses during freezing winters. Endured their sleazy hands and whispered rumors—"That pianist will spread her legs for the right price."
I swallowed every ounce of dignity to scrape together a million dollars for his company. That night, holding the check, he'd whispered, "I'll spend my life making this up to you."
Turns out he'd been keeping score the whole time.
I knew exactly what this was—another attempt to guilt me into taking Rafael back.
Shaking my head, I kept my voice steady but unyielding. "I have no interest in seeing him. You have no idea the kind of damage Rafael caused. If you did, you'd realize my life with him was one long tragedy."
"Some things can't be forgiven—not in this lifetime."
Seeing my resolve, Rafael's friend finally backed off. He placed a hand on my shoulder with a resigned sigh. "Alright, Lily. If that's your decision, I won't tell him you're here. Just... I hope you find the happiness you deserve."
After he left, I sat at the piano and played the same piece I'd been practicing when I first met Rafael all those years ago.
I'd already moved on. Hearing about his sudden "love" now didn't affect me—it was almost comical.
Him punishing Jenna wasn't some grand romantic gesture. It was just his pathetic attempt to ease his own guilt.
The truth was, Jenna was never the real problem. Even without her, there would've been others. Rafael would've found excuses to hurt me regardless. He never truly understood what it meant to be a husband.
Now? Seeing him like this just made my skin crawl.
The call came unexpectedly. My old piano teacher—the woman who'd shaped my career—had terminal cancer and wanted to see me one last time.
The moment I stepped off the plane back home, that voice froze me in my tracks.
"Lily... you're finally back!"
I turned to see a ghost of the man I once knew.
The Rafael I remembered was obsessively polished—not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle in his designer suits.
This shell of a man had graying hair, hollow cheeks, and clothes that looked like they hadn't been washed in weeks. Tears streamed down his face as he clutched at me with desperate, bloodshot eyes.
"Lily, I made Jenna pay for what she did to us. Please... come home. We can start over."
A bitter laugh escaped me. "I'm only here for my teacher. Don't waste your breath, Rafael."
He grabbed my coat sleeve, voice cracking. "Why do you always have to be so stubborn? If you'd just—"
Then came the confession that shattered everything:
"If you hadn't been so damn proud, maybe I wouldn't have resented you! You wanted to be some piano superstar while I was just some nobody scrambling to make it. You think I liked hearing people say I rode your coattails to success? I had talent too!"
The world tilted.
So this was the truth festering inside him all along.
Yes, I came from modest means—but his family had been destitute. When he confessed his business dreams but had no startup funds, I believed in him.
I entered competition after competition. Played wealthy donors' parties in flimsy dresses during freezing winters. Endured their sleazy hands and whispered rumors—"That pianist will spread her legs for the right price."
I swallowed every ounce of dignity to scrape together a million dollars for his company. That night, holding the check, he'd whispered, "I'll spend my life making this up to you."
Turns out he'd been keeping score the whole time.
End of The Fireworks He Set For Her Chapter 8. Continue reading Chapter 9 or return to The Fireworks He Set For Her book page.