Ivor is a fucking piano.
The revelation feels both ridiculous and like a weight has been lifted.
“For fuck’s sake, Amelia,” Grey exhales, his tension melting away as relief floods his features.
Misha looks between us, his eyebrows raised. “I didn’t know she played piano, did you?”
I shake my head, though, in hindsight, her taste in music should’ve given us a clue.
Amelia closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and begins to play. Her fingers settle into the rhythm of the melody, and the notes of “River Flows in You” by Yiruma fill the air.
With its soft and flowing melody, the song seems almost to mirror the golden hues of the setting sun that filter through the trees, casting dappled shadows around us.
I watch, captivated. It’s as if the piece was written for this very moment,for her, beneath this canopy.
Knowing her fondness forTwilight, I recognize the connection—the song was once unofficially considered “Bella’s Lullaby”by fans before the film’s actual soundtrack was released.
I may have logged into one or two fan forums since I know she’s into the series.
Amelia’s posture is impeccable, and each note she plays is deliberate, infused with emotion, her body swaying with the rhythm of the music. The scene is almost otherworldly.
It’s a side of her I’ve never seen, and I feel privileged to witness it.
I can’t help but feel that this is a rare glimpse into Amelia’s soul.
Grey is almost fidgeting next to me, his attention fixed intently on Amelia. “She’s amazing. To play like that on such a fucked-up piano? It’s incredible.”
She truly is.
Misha murmurs, almost to himself, “I might start appreciating piano music more.”
His gaze is fixed on her, filled with a mix of admiration and something deeper, something that makes my stomach twistuncomfortably. The way he and Grey watch her is far from just friendly or professional curiosity.
They are captivated, completely taken by her presence.
Fuck.
The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. Theyreallyare as drawn to her as I am. This complicates things—my feelings, our friendship, and whatever future we might have hoped to build.
“This is insane,” Grey mutters under his breath as he shakes his head. “She’s out here, all alone, eyes closed, completely vulnerable to any threats.”
“What threats?” Misha whispers back, his voice tinged with amusement despite the tension. “We’re probably the only stalkers she has.”
Grey doesn’t find the humor in the situation. “It’s not about us. It’s about who else could be here and take advantage of her.”
“We just stay and watch out for her then.” Misha shrugs, and I nod in agreement.
I watch Amelia, lost in her music, her expression one of deep concentration mixed with a touch of sadness. It’s clear this is more than just playing. It’s a release.
Playing the piano is a part of her, and anybody with eyes can see it.
The music swells, drawing a small crowd of late parkgoers who keep a respectful distance, entranced by the impromptu concert. Among the faces, there’s no sign of anyone suspicious, just ordinary people enjoying a moment of unexpected beauty.
As the last notes linger in the air, Amelia’s shoulders relax. She takes a deep breath and opens her eyes, seemingly unaware of the small applause from her audience. She smiles briefly, a genuine one that reaches her eyes before she closes them once more and starts up again with “Clair de Lune” by Claude Debussy.
Did her love forTwilightinspire her interest in piano music, or was it her affinity for the piano that drew her to the story? God, there is so much I want to know.So many questions I want to ask.
But I force myself to simply be present, to watch the woman who unknowingly holds my heart captivate her audience with the beauty of her music. And as I stand here, hidden yet wholly exposed, I hope that someday, somehow, I might be fortunate enough to hold a place in her heart as well.
