"Lennon, I don’t care who you like. And I don’t care if you still love me." Reaching into my bag, I pulled out a small velvet box, a gift I had once carefully prepared for him a long time ago.
"All I know is that I don’t love you anymore."
Opening the box, I revealed two silver cufflinks. Without hesitation, I tossed them into the trash can.
Lennon’s eyes darted to the trash, his carefully maintained calm finally cracking.
"Claire, I don’t accept this breakup. And you can’t break up with me either."
The undertone of aggression was unfamiliar, almost unnerving.
But I held my ground, meeting his gaze unwaveringly. At last, he faltered. Muttering a low curse, he turned on his heel and stormed off.
Yet after only a few steps, he stopped and spun around, his eyes rimmed with a faint redness.
"Claire, let’s both calm down. We’ll talk after the performance."
The performance he referred to was the orchestra’s founding anniversary, a grand event just two weeks away. Both of us were set to perform, with me leading the strings section.
He did not wait for my response, perhaps afraid of my rejection. Without another word, he strode out of the room, never glancing back.