“But only because of you two,” she pointed her index finger at Ava and Alex. “But if they throw us out of the restaurant because of my inadequate playing, that’s on you.”
Ava blew her a kiss, victorious. Hazel approached the string quartet returning from their break, exchanged a few words, then made her way to the piano. She cleared her throat before speaking into the mic.
“Boa noite! Good evening, everyone. My name is Hazel, and I’d be honored to play for you tonight. You see my lovely friends, Ava and Alex, over there?” She gestured toward them. “They just got engaged. They havethatkind of love—the kind you spot from a mile away, the kind you see in movies and secretly wish for yourself. That disgustingly beautiful kind.” Her tone was soft, nostalgic.
“So, even if you don’t believe in love...” Her eyes locked onto mine, and I froze in my seat. Because no matter how many people were in that room... I knew. She was talking to me.
“...I hope one day you find the kind that sees all your mess and still chooses you. The kind that feels less like fireworks and more like coming home.” Her dimples deepened as her smile grew bigger. And if I were capable of feeling this way, I’d say that I’d have fallen in love with her right then and there.
“This is for you, guys.”
The air was thick with anticipation. Hazel settled into the seat, her gorgeous dress cascading over the bench. Her fingers trembled slightly. She pushed out a small breath, steadying herself, and began to play. Soft notes floated through the air. The melody started gently, then gained momentum, filling the space with a sound so alive it seemed to breathe between us. I think I’ve heard this song somewhere. Yes, it was Ludovico’s“Experience”.
The moment she touched the keys, she became someone else. Her fingers moving as if they had a life of their own. Like it was her heart and soul dancing in the air. I felt like I was in a private concert. I looked over at Ava and Alex, who were in awe, just like the rest of us.
The string quartet joined in, the violin swelling beautifully. I saw Summer drumming her fingers on the table, following along on her imaginary piano. Hazel’s hair moved with her, catching the light as the intensity grew. Her face, her body,everythingwas lost in the music. I closed my eyes, torn between letting the sound consume me and watchingher.
Hazel wasn’t just playing. She was feeling. I don’t think I’d ever seen anything like this.
The emotions she poured into her music were transcendent, revealing things she could never put into words. It was as if she let me see life through her eyes, feel the emotions she carried in her heart—the ones I lacked.
I could almost feel the chemicals in my brain rearranging. It wasn’t just music anymore. It was a memory. Love. Grief. Everyquiet longing she held inside. Everything I’d never let myself experience fully.
Her fingers moved as if they knew exactly where the pain lived and how to soothe it. And for a few moments, I wasn’t afraid of feeling. I just let it happen, let her fill the spaces in me I’d left empty for too long.
She reminded me that softness wasn’t weakness, that ache could be beautiful, and that some people don’t just play music—they become it.
The sounds effortlessly soared through the room, taking everyone along for the journey. And just as the last note faded, applause erupted. Hazel hid her face in her palms, trying to suppress her smile. Still shy. Probably still thinking she didn’t deserve it. But how could she not believe it when strangers who had never even met her celebrated her for the performance she just gave? For the beautiful emotions she made them experience.
She finally returned to our table, her cheeks ablaze. Ava and Alex hugged her so tightly she had to fight for breath. “Thank you. So much. It was incredible. You’re incredible.”
Hazel sat down in her seat next to me. There were a couple of sweat drops on her forehead, some on her clavicle, breath still uneven.
“Damn,” was the best I could say. A pitiful and unworthy word for what I’d just witnessed.
“Stop. I’m just glad I remembered the notes,” she said, turning to the happy couple as they shared a kiss.
“Let’s toast,” I said, then got up and cleared my throat. “People say falling in love is easy. Just some passion, a little bit of attraction. Someone who likes all your good parts. Love is something else. It’s not an emotion. It’s bravery. Vulnerability. It’s a choice and a compromise. Not giving up when things are tough. It’s being there for each other when it matters the most. It’s rare,” I paused, doing everything in my power not to steala glance at her, but I felt her eyes on me. Mesmerized. Funny, when I was the one being dazzled by her. “Or so I’ve been told.” Everybody chuckled.
“It’s hard work. And God knows you’ve worked hard to get to this. I’ve been a witness. You deserve everything you have worked for. I love you both to death. So let’s raise our glasses.” Everybody joined in. “To choice. To hard work.” I paused. “To Ava and Alex.”
“To Ava and Alex,” everyone else called out in unison, their voices ringing warmly across the table. We all clinked our glasses together and took a sip of the bubbly. Meanwhile, the waiter had brought a dessert for everyone.
“That was a nice speech,” Hazel leaned in and said in a sweet voice, the light freckles dancing on her face.
“Ahh, it’s nothing. Just something from the internet.” A lie. But I couldn’t let them know I had a soft side. It would ruin my reputation.
“Mhm,” she nodded, clearly not believing me.
“I took the liberty of ordering for you,” I said. “Chocolate cake with cherry jam.”
“Thank you.”
We dug into the dessert, the dopamine hitting instantly. Hazel finished hers in minutes. She was shamefully cleaning her mouth, trying to hide her smile from me. Apparently, I chose wisely.
“Want to try mine?” I offered. Her hungry eyes gave her away almost immediately, and before she could refuse, I slid my plate toward her.
“Okay, but just a small bite,” she said and stuck her fork into my slice, taking a small piece of all the layers.
