The violinist stood on the dimly lit stage, silhouette slender and elegant. His bow danced deftly across the strings, a cascade of rhythmic music flooding the audience with anticipation.

The end note, drawn from a well of passion, left the audience breathless. Arion bowed, and the crowd cheered with admiration and approval.

You watched all this from a platform backstage. You knew his performance off by heart, from how many of them you were required to attend as his pianist.

You were being fussed over, expensive materials draped and staff offering you tea when Arion walked back from the stage. His cheeks were flushed with pride and adrenaline.