When He Stopped Loving Me Chapter 22

Hearing the dial tone in his ear, Ethan stood frozen, fingers gripping the phone white-knuckled.

An unprecedented sense of being utterly rejected, excluded, rushed over him like humiliation and powerlessness drowning in icy water.

For the first time, he tasted what true regret meant—when it was too late.

After Sebastian's decisive phone rejection, Ethan didn't give up. Instead, it triggered more intense, almost obsessive fixation.

He couldn't accept Claire truly leaving his world, falling into another man's embrace.

He learned Claire would hold an important piano solo concert domestically. This seemed his last chance.

Concert night, sold out.

Ethan sat in a dark corner of the audience, watching the woman brilliant under stage lights.

Notes flowing from her fingertips—sometimes passionate, sometimes tender—filled with power and emotion. She was no longer that Claire who'd played only for him. She belonged to this vast stage, to everyone appreciating her talent.

Performance ended to thunderous, prolonged applause. Claire bowed multiple times, face showing exhausted yet satisfied smiles.

Ethan immediately stood, clutching a carefully air-freighted bouquet of rare flowers Claire once loved, rushing toward the backstage entrance.

He'd deliberately worn a suit she'd once praised, trying to recall her past preferences, attempting to recapture some shadow of the past.

He successfully caught Claire just after removing makeup, preparing to leave.

She wore simple casual clothes, face showing post-performance fatigue, but eyes remained clear and calm.

"Claire." Ethan stepped forward, extending flowers, voice carrying unrecognized cautious pleading. "Congratulations on the successful performance. Could we... find somewhere to talk?"

Claire stopped, gaze calmly falling on his face, sweeping across the vivid bouquet, showing no reaction—only faint distance.

"Mr. Pierce," she spoke, voice cool, politely refusing, "If it's about concert follow-up collaboration or copyright matters, please contact my agent. If it's personal..."

She paused, lips curving in a faint yet clearly mocking arc, gaze returning to the flowers:

"I don't think that's necessary. Besides," she raised her eyes, looking directly at Ethan's instantly frozen face, articulating clearly, "I stopped liking these flowers long ago. People's tastes change."

Ethan's heart plummeted with her words!

The bouquet suddenly felt impossibly heavy, nearly dropping from his hands.

So... he'd only remembered her past preferences.

He didn't even know she'd changed.

This realization hurt more than direct rejection—more humiliating and defeating.

Just then, Sebastian approached carrying a soft cashmere shawl.

He seemed not to see Ethan at all, walking straight to Claire, gently draping the shawl over her shoulders—natural, intimate gesture, voice tender enough to melt: "Tired? The car's ready outside. Let's go home."

Claire showed him a shallow, dependent smile, nodding: "Okay."