The chair creaked under her weight, but Malik didn't seem to notice.
He turned back to his laptop, fingers tapping at keys, looping something she couldn't quite hear yet. A soft pulsing light blinked from a small pad with square buttons red, yellow, green like a tiny dance floor beneath his fingertips.
"You into music?" he asked, eyes still on the screen.
Adaora hesitated. "I like listening… but I don't know anything about making it."
He grinned, still not looking at her. "That's what they all say."
They sat in silence for a moment the easy kind, not the awkward kind she was used to. Outside, the rain continued its steady rhythm, like the earth was keeping time with a secret song.
Then he passed her the headphones.
She looked at them, unsure.
"Just listen," Malik said, a gentle nudge in his tone. "Tell me what it makes you feel."
She slipped them over her ears.
The world disappeared.
In its place, a slow, haunting beat emerged deep bass, soft like a heartbeat under blankets. Then came a distant piano, low and moody, each note echoing like footsteps in a quiet hallway. No lyrics. No noise. Just feeling.
She closed her eyes without meaning to.
Something inside her chest stirred not pain exactly, but a kind of recognition. Like the music had found a part of her she didn't even know needed finding.
When she took the headphones off, her eyes burned with unshed tears.
She wiped them quickly. "Sorry."
"Don't be," Malik said, sitting back. "That's what it's for."
He didn't ask questions. Didn't press. Instead, he leaned forward and pushed the keyboard toward her.
"Wanna try?"
Her eyes widened. "I don't know how"
"You don't need to. Just… tap whatever your fingers feel."
It felt stupid. Silly. But she reached out anyway.
Gently, she pressed a key. Then another.
The notes clashed. She winced.
Malik smiled. "Good. Now do it again."
She pressed different ones. Softer. Then tried combining them. After a few attempts, something odd happened the clumsy notes began to form a pattern. Not a melody yet. Not a song. But something close.
"I can loop that," Malik said, already recording.
A few clicks later, her accidental tune repeated itself.
She blinked. "That's… me?"
"Yup."
It didn't sound great. But it didn't sound awful, either.
It sounded real.
She looked at him. "Why did you let me try?"
Malik shrugged. "'Cause I saw the way you listened. That's what real musicians do first they feel. Skills come later."
Something in her chest loosened just a little.
Not enough to change everything.
But enough to stay.