Yvonne didn''t say anything more, turning to look out the window.


    Her gaze was unfocused, and in the blur of the passing city, she thought she saw an eighteen-year-old Bet walking toward her, a smile on his face.


    "Vonnie," he had said, "the piece I just yed is called ''Mariage d''Amour''."


    And then, "From now on, I''ll only y it for you.”


    He had been like a vibrant, young tree, his love fierce and unyielding.


    When she had dropped out of the police academy for her assignment, no one had understood or supported her-not even her parents.


    Only Bet. He had always stood by her, unconditionally.


    Just like when they were rebellious teenagers, he was the one who would climb walls with her to skip ss, get into fights, and y games. He took the me for everything, and after getting punished, he would grin and tell her, "It''s fine, it didn''t even hurt."


    He had told her, "Vonnie, if you''re not going to be a police officer, then be my wife. I''ll fulfill your dream for you."


    At the time, Bet was studying at a conservatory. He was a musical genius, praised by everyone.


    Yvonne could never have imagined that the hands that yed the piano so beautifully could also hold a gun.


    He had given up a prestigious opportunity to study abroad.


    Since he had already graduated from college, he couldn''t re-enroll in the police academy. So, he joined the army, nning to transfer to the police forceter.


    He had promised her, "Vonnie, the moment I get my uniform, you''ll be the first person to see me in it."


    But she had died before she ever got the chance.


    Memories flickered through her mind like an old film reel: the kites they flew as children, the tree-lined paths he biked her down as teenagers, the fireworks that exploded over the school field the night he confessed his love...


    “Mariage d''Amour.” It seemed it was a wedding that could only ever happen in a dream.


    "Yvonne! Yvonne!" Sandra''s urgent voice pulled her back to the present.


    Yvonne looked at her, dazed. Sandra''s eyes were filled with rm.


    "Yvonne, what''s wrong? Are you hurt? Do you feel sick?"


    Yvonne raised a hand to her face and realized, with a start, that she was crying.


    "Just some dust in my eye," she mumbled, wiping away the tears.


    Sandra shot her a sharp, disbelieving look. In a sealed car, what kind of phantom


    wind could possibly blow dust into her eye?


    The car finally pulled up in front of the hotel.


    Sandra kept her hands on the wheel, turning to Yvonne. "You haven''t s slept at all if you''re too tired, I can call the set and get you the day off"


    "I have a major scene today. No rest for the wicked," Yvonne said,


    shaking


    her head like a drum. She


    unbuckled her seatbelt and quickly


    got out of the car


    Back in her room, she took a quick shower, changed, and headed straight for the set.


    After two hours of makeup and wardrobe, she followed the assistant director to the filming location.


    She had been looking forward to this "major scene" since her first day on set.