Chapter 19 — A SONG THROUGH THE RAIN
The rain lightened by morning, but the sky remained pale and tired, as if it too had cried through the night. Elaris City glistened, washed clean by the storm. Puddles mirrored soft clouds, and the scent of wet stone drifted through the open windows of the studio.
Adrian arrived earlier than usual. He hadn’t slept much. His eyes were shadowed, his shirt still damp from the mist outside. The moment he stepped inside, the silence greeted him — heavy, expectant. Cathy’s corner was empty. Her easel still stood near the window, her brushes neatly lined up, her sketchbook gone.
He stood there for a long while, letting the emptiness sink in. Her absence filled the room like a memory too loud to ignore.
Luna arrived not long after, her expression a mix of worry and quiet sympathy. “She’s not here, Adrian,” she said gently. “She needed time.”
He nodded, though his chest tightened at the words. “I know. I just… didn’t realize how much silence could hurt when she’s not in it.”
Luna gave a small smile. “You hurt her, but not beyond repair. She cares for you. I’ve seen it.”
Adrian looked toward the window where rain still traced faint lines across the glass. “I’ll wait, then,” he said softly. “As long as it takes.”
That night, he returned to his apartment. The city was quiet again, lights flickering softly through the drizzle. He sat by the piano, fingers resting on the keys. The same melody from the night before lingered in his head — the song he had played for her without meaning to.
He began to play once more. Slow, tender notes filled the air, rising and falling like breath. It was not perfect, but it was honest. Every sound carried the ache of apology, the longing for forgiveness.
Across town, Cathy sat by her own window. She had spent the day sketching, though none of her drawings felt right. Her thoughts wandered constantly — to him, to the rain, to the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at her.
As the evening deepened, she felt something strange — a faint hum in the air, carried by the breeze. It was soft, almost imagined, but it touched something deep inside her.
A melody.
She couldn’t hear it, not really, but she felt it — like the memory of sound, trembling against her skin. She closed her eyes, and in that invisible rhythm, she recognized him. The warmth, the gentleness, the sorrow. It was Adrian’s music.
Tears filled her eyes. Without thinking, she opened her sketchbook and began to draw again.
This time, she drew the piano. She drew him sitting before it, his back to her, light falling across his shoulders. And around him, she drew the rain — not falling between them anymore, but rising into soft trails of music.
When she finished, she pressed her hand over the page, her heart steady again.
The next morning, she returned to the studio.
The bell above the door chimed softly as she entered. Adrian was there already, standing by the window, holding a mug of coffee that had gone cold. When he turned, his eyes widened — as if he wasn’t sure whether she was real or a dream.
She didn’t smile right away. She just looked at him, calm and quiet, the same way she always did when she was ready to understand something deeper.
He set the mug aside and stepped closer, stopping a few feet away. “You came back,” he whispered.
She opened her notebook and wrote one line.
I never really left. Just needed to listen.
Adrian blinked, his throat tight. “To what?”
She smiled softly. To the music.
He understood then. Somehow, across the distance, through all the silence between them, she had heard what he couldn’t say.
He took one step closer, then another, his voice trembling. “Cathy, I should have told you everything from the start. About my family, my name, all of it. I didn’t want that world to touch you. I was afraid it would take away what we have.”
She wrote slowly, her hand steady. You don’t lose love by telling the truth. You lose it by hiding.
He nodded, unable to speak.
Then, with a courage that surprised even herself, she reached for his hand. Her fingers were warm against his skin, a small, steady gesture that said more than any words could.
The rain had stopped completely now. Outside, sunlight touched the city, making every wet surface shimmer.
For a long time, they stood like that — no promises, no apologies, just quiet understanding.
Somewhere beyond the studio, the world carried on as always — cars, voices, footsteps. But within those walls, it was only them. A man who had hidden behind a name, and a woman who had taught him how to listen without words.
And though they still had a long way to go, this was how healing began — not with explanations, but with presence.
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