"You can call me Helen. And what should I call you, dear?” Helen asked, bending down to ce a pair of women''s slippers at Yvonne''s feet.


    “Hello, Helen. I''m Yvonne," she replied, her gaze pulling away from the balcony.


    The slippers were brand new, pink with a Hello Kitty design. They must have been for his new girlfriend.


    Yvonne slipped them on and followed Helen to the guest room.


    Helen changed the bedding and, although the room was already spotless, she wiped down all the surfaces again.


    "Your name is Yvonne? What a coincidence," Helen chattered as she worked. "The master''s ex-girlfriend was named Yvonne, too."


    "Is that so? What a coincidence," Yvonne murmured.


    "You must be here on official business, then. Aside from Miss Yvonne, the master has never brought a girl home before,” Helen added.


    “He..... he hasn''t brought any girlfriends here?" Yvonne asked hesitantly.


    Helen shook her head. "Never. I suppose he doesn''t want to make them


    ufortable, since histe girlfriend used to live here. He''s very considerate of his new partner''s feelings."


    Yvonne fell silent, a dull ache starting in her chest. This time, it wasn''t the original Yvonne''s lingering emotions. The pain was all hers.


    That night, Yvonne couldn''t sleep.


    She had slept on the ground, leaning against a tree during survival training, but here, in this ce that was once so familiar, she tossed and turned all night.


    She finally drifted off as dawn was breaking, only to wake up a few hourster.


    It was the sound of a piano that woke her.


    She sat up, her head still fuzzy, and padded out of her room in her nightgown.


    In front of the massive living room window stood a ck grand piano.


    Bet sat at the keyboard, dressed in a dark shirt. His handsome profile was cool and remote, but his long fingers moved over the keys with a familiar grace.


    He was ying a Chopin nocturne.


    A song of lost love. It was unbearably sad.


    Yvonne leaned against the wall, watching him from a distance, her eyes shimmering


    with unshed tears.


    He must have sensed her presence. The music stopped abruptly.


    He turned, his dark eyes unreadable.


    "Go put some clothes on," he said coldly. He then stood up and closed the piano lid.


    A flush of embarrassment washed


    over her. She retreated to her room,


    showered, and changed into a


    modest blouse and a long skirt


    before re-emerging.  fo


    Helen had already made breakfast. "Good morning, Ms. Jones," she said with a smile.


    "Good morning, Helen," Yvonne replied, her eyes drifting past the housekeeper to Bet, who was now sitting on the sofa.


    His long legs were crossed, and he was engrossed in a military journal, not even sparing her a nce.


    "I made pumpkin porridge, and a


    vegetable stir-fry," Helen said


    cheerfully. "Ms Jones


    there''s


    anything you like, "you like, or anything you


    can''t eat, just let me know."