VIOLIN

POV - EVA

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A Love Song Written in Strings

Music was the one thing that made sense in my life.

It had been my anchor, my sanctuary, the language my heart spoke when words failed.

But after my father passed, I stopped playing.

The violin he had gifted me—the one he had taught me to love—sat untouched in the corner of my apartment, its strings silenced by grief.

Every time I looked at it, I felt the weight of all the unsaid things, the unfinished melodies.

And so, I let the silence consume me.

Until I met him.

---

Edrien.

A stranger with calloused fingers and a violin of his own.

He wasn’t supposed to matter.

But somehow, without meaning to, he made me remember what it felt like to feel.

---

The first time I saw him, he was on the rooftop of the music academy.

The melody drifted through the evening air—haunting, beautiful, heartbreak woven into every note.

I wasn’t supposed to be there.

I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.

But the music pulled me in.

And then, as if sensing me, he turned.

For a brief second, surprise flickered in his eyes before his lips curled into the ghost of a smirk.

"You don’t play anymore, do you?"

His words were not a question. They were a truth, spoken as if he had always known.

I stiffened. "How do you know I ever did?"

He shrugged, studying me with the sharp gaze of someone who saw too much.

"You have the hands of a violinist. But your eyes?" His voice softened. "They’re full of silence."

And somehow, that hurt more than I expected.

---

Edrien didn’t give up on me.

I barely knew him, yet he seemed determined to drag me back into the world I had abandoned.

He challenged me.

Taunted me.

Dared me.

At first, I resisted.

I told myself I was fine. That I had moved on. That I didn’t need music anymore.

But one night, he placed his violin in my hands.

"Play," he whispered.

My fingers trembled as they hovered over the strings.

It felt foreign. Wrong.

But as I hesitantly pulled the bow across them, a fractured note echoed into the night.

I winced.

I wanted to stop.

But Edrien?

He just smiled.

"Good. Now do it again."

---

Playing again was like learning how to breathe.

Painful at first. Unsteady.

But every time I faltered, every time I wanted to walk away, Edrien was there.

Guiding me.

Pushing me.

And somewhere in between stolen glances and midnight duets, something changed.

His touch lingered longer. His gaze held something unspoken.

And when he finally whispered, "You’re beautiful when you play," I realized—

I wasn’t just falling in love with music again.

I was falling for him.

---

The night of my first performance in years, fear clawed at my chest.

My hands trembled as I stepped onto the stage, the weight of the past pressing down on me.

But then, my eyes found his.

Edrien sat in the crowd, watching me, silent encouragement in his gaze.

And suddenly, I wasn’t alone.

I lifted my violin, closed my eyes, and played.

I poured everything into the melody—grief, love, hope.

And as the final note hung in the air, I knew—

I was no longer afraid.

Because I had found my music again.

And with it, I had found him.

---

After the concert, Edrien found me backstage.

"You were incredible," he said softly.

I smiled, my heart pounding. "You’re the reason I played again."

He shook his head.

"No, Eva. The music was always in you. You just needed to remember."

Then, hesitantly, he reached for my hand.

"Let’s keep playing together," he murmured.

And in his touch, in his words, I heard the melody of something new.

A love song written just for us.

❤️ THE END❤️

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