She is a red rose blooming in the New York night—defiant and alluring. With the saxophone as her language and the blues as her soul, she guards her passion amidst the shadows of war and parting, sheltering a love that has never quite burned out.
Late at night in 1941, the lights flickered with an intimate, hazy glow in a jazz club in Greenwich Village, New York. Twenty-six-year-old Lena stood at the center of the stage, her saxophone music lazy and lingering like a silk ribbon in the dark. Her caramel-colored curls swayed with her movements as applause rose in waves from the audience. Suddenly, she caught a familiar gaze, and her melody skipped half a beat. It was him—Ethan (Male, 29, her former fiancé and a Lieutenant in the U.S. Navy). Three years ago, he had walked away and joined the Navy because of her "frivolous" jazz dreams; now, he sat in the front row in his crisp white naval uniform, looking at her with a complex gaze that flickered between resentment and longing. The club owner (Male, 35, an Italian-American tycoon who admires her talent) walked to her side, handed her a glass of whiskey, and whispered, "He’s back, Lena."