Callum’s jaw tightens.
He doesn’t announce himself.Doesn’t clear his throat.He listens until it hurts.
Isla sits at the piano, posture imperfect for once, shoulders tense, head bowed slightly as if the instrument itself is too heavy.Her bright red hair is pulled back hastily, strands escaping near her neck.She’s not dressed for an audience.She’s dressed to survive the day.
Her hands move slower than he’s seen them before, deliberate, careful, like every note costs something.
The melody turns into something spare and jagged.No prettiness.No comfort.Just the sound of a wound being pressed until it admits it exists.
Callum swallows.
He’d thought she was steel.
Now she’s the fracture.
The music thins until only single notes remain.In the gap between them, Callum can hear her breath.He can hear the soft scrape of the bench when she shifts.He can hear the castle settling around them.
Then the line resolves, not into peace, but into stubbornness.A decision made through clenched teeth.
Isla’s shoulders lift.
She knows he’s there.
Her hands fall from the keys, hovering a moment before lowering to her lap.She sits very still, listening not to the piano but to the room.
“You can stop pretending,” she says, voice tight.“I heard you this time.”
Callum steps fully into the room.
“I was drawn to the music,” he says.
She laughs once, sharp and humorless.“That’s what everyone says.”
He stays near the door like it’s a line he shouldn’t cross.
Isla turns on the bench to face him.Her eyes are bright, not with tears, but with the effort of holding them back.
“What do you want?”she asks.
Callum hesitates.The truth feels dangerous.
“The music,” he says finally.“It didn’t sound like… last night.”
“Last night was anger,” she snaps.“This is what comes after.”
“It sounded like grief,” he says.
Her mouth twists.“Congratulations.You’re perceptive.”
“It didn’t feel like performance.”
“Because it wasn’t.”
Silence stretches.The piano sits between them like a witness.
Callum tries for neutral and fails.“Keir taught me everything I know about music.”
The words are out before he can stop them.
