“Don’t say that,” Abigail interjected. Her face looked sad and she appeared like a gentle and innocent woman. “I think it’s enough. Lily must have realized her mistakes. I guess she doesn’t want to come back because she’s still angry and hates me for taking Oliver from her.”
Tears fell down her cheeks as she spoke. I sat on the piano bench nearby, watching her performance with a clenched jaw. Three years had passed and Abigail was still very good at pretending. The sorrowful expression on her face was a far cry from the one she wore when she grabbed my hair, dragged me along and forced me to kneel like a dog.
“Listen, Abi, you are the only person I love. I’ve only loved you all along, so don’t say that you took me away from her.”
Oliver, my former fiancé, who had once professed his love for me and openly asked me to be his wife, now stood with Abigail. The sight was almost surreal. He held her close, his arms wrapped around her in a protective embrace. His lips brushed gently against her forehead, a gesture filled with warmth and affection that should have been mine.