The Day the Music Smiled Back
by Philip A. Marcelino
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Chapter 3 — The Sound That Lingers
The next few days drifted softly, like notes hanging in the air after a final chord.
Eris couldn't focus during class — every time he heard a piano in the distance, his heart would skip, wondering if it was Ren again.
At lunch, he found himself sitting by the old fountain, violin case by his side, replaying their duet in his mind.
The sound of Ren's piano had a warmth that stayed long after the song ended — a sound that lingered, stubborn and gentle all at once.
"Still thinking about it?" a voice said.
Eris turned. It was Ren, holding a small paper cup of coffee, his usual calm wrapped in that quiet confidence.
"I—uh, maybe," Eris admitted, cheeks faintly pink. "It's hard to forget something like that."
Ren smiled, sitting beside him. "Good. Music should stay with you — even when it hurts a little."
They sat there in silence, the fountain's ripples blending with the soft hum of the campus.
Ren's fingers tapped lightly against his cup, almost like a rhythm — one Eris unknowingly matched by tapping his violin case.
Then Ren spoke again. "The Winter Duet competition… it's in two weeks."
Eris blinked. "So soon?"
Ren nodded. "We'll need to practice — a lot."
Eris hesitated. "You really think I can do this? With you?"
Ren looked at him then, eyes steady. "Eris… when you play, you don't just follow notes. You feel them. That's what makes you different."
Something inside Eris fluttered — not from pride, but from being understood.
That afternoon, they practiced again in the old recital hall.
Every sound seemed more alive, as if the room itself remembered their last harmony.
Ren's piano led gently, and Eris followed — hesitant at first, then braver, his bow gliding smoother with every note.
Halfway through, Ren stopped and laughed softly.
"You're improving too fast. Are you sure you're not pretending to be a beginner?"
Eris smiled shyly. "Maybe your playing is contagious."
For the first time, Ren's laugh reached his eyes.
By the time they finished, dusk had fallen, spilling golden light over the piano keys.
Neither spoke — they just listened to the echo of the last note fading into silence.
And yet, in that silence, something lingered —
a quiet promise, unspoken but deeply felt.
A melody that didn't need words to say,
"I'll be here, until the music ends."