Revenge to The Devil

The whole morning, I was in a trance because of Irene's words. I could not remember how much coffee I had drunk, but all I could smell was Blue Mountain Coffee, and even when I breathed, it was sour and bitter.

My mind was wandering, right up until the afternoon, when I recorded music in the studio.

After I had performed the song four or five times, the director and music producer was still unsatisfied and Shawn, outside the room, had an even gloomier face.

In fact, after I got back, I'd practiced it many times every day, but they were still unsatisfied, thinking it was not pathetic enough to express the contradictory thoughts of the heroine, which couldn't move audiences.

Seeing I was too exhausted, the director let me rest. I stepped out of the depressive studio to refresh myself. I opened the window, only to find there was a familiar car parked downstairs. Then I closed it, leaning over to see him until I affirmed that he was still in the car.

Irene approached me and whispered, "He arrived earlier, saying that he has matters to talk to you about you. I told him that you are recording music, so..."

"Please give him a call for me," I told her.

She dialed the number quickly and handed the phone to me.

"Has she finished it?" he asked. I was about to speak when he enquired doubtfully, "Irene?"

I bit my lip to relieve the unutterable disappointment of been mistaken for Irene.

I calmed my rapid breathing and said, "It's me. What's the matter?"

"Well!" he coughed softly on the phone, "Aren't you intending to get a divorce? It's on Friday. If we miss today, we'll wait for another two days."

I didn't think it was a big deal to wait for two days, but he thought it mattered from his tone.

"It may take a long time to complete it, so you'd better wait upstairs," I said.

There was a moment's silence before he said, "It is improper for me?"

I took a look at Shawn, putting my fingers on my lips. He seemed to have guessed what Jonathan said, reminding me," It is not improper."

"Well, I'll go up later," said Jonathan.

When Jonathan came in, I discussed the plots with the director. I looked up at him, looking into his eyes. Although there were no words and no expression, the eye contact stirred my mood, sweeping away the depression. It was love, which could suppress anything except missing a person.

I hid a slight smile in the corner of my mouth, lowering my head to talk seriously to the director, "I can understand the mood of the heroine: she is sacrificed for her beloved man."

The music producer went on to say, "You can imagine that when you love someone, you see him hugging another woman as he passes by you. And you suppress the pain to pretend, you can endure anything because you love him and don't want to lose him. However, you know clearly that he is struggling with contradictory thoughts because of you. Therefore, you must choose between his liberation and your happiness."

I glanced secretly at Jonathan. He stood by the window with his back to me. The wind blew a yellow leaf up, which floated by him.

It was the same situation that once during Autumn, he turned around, making a decisive choice between my liberation and his happiness, letting me go for my future. Were he the same mood as the heroine, staring at my figure until I disappeared from his sight.

"I understood it, knowing how to perform," and I sat by the piano, my fingers on the keys. When the prelude began, he turned around slowly to fix his eyes on my face. Indulged in the most pathetic music, remembering how much he missed me, I couldn't suppress my infatuation with him.

Each time my fingers trembled, it conveyed the groaning melody to others, which he showed in his eyes. When it came to an end, he turned him away and walked out of the room. I closed my eyes to recollect his eyesight, performing the melody of the last part with lingering charm.

I understood that it was not that he hadn't devoted enough love to me, but I had come back too late!

After having finished the song, I opened my eyes, seeing the music producer standing up excitedly to ask the staff about the effects. When they responded with a satisfying gesture, he contended to give me five.