Elias didn't sleep that night
Elias lay awake staring at the ceiling, Aurora's words playing over and over in his mind:
"Sometimes the songs we think aren't about anyone... are the most important."
Why had she said that?
Did she know?
Did she suspect?
By morning, the question had twisted itself so tightly like a knot that he could think of nothing else. He walked through the school in the dark—until he reached his locker and saw something strange.
A folded piece of lavender paper.
He was shocked; lavender was Aurora's favorite color.
Hands shaking, he opened it.
Elias,
Can you meet me after school today?
Music room.
I want to talk about the song.
—A
The floor seemed to tilt beneath him.
Aurora wanted to talk. About the song.
The one he had written about her.
He closed the note and pressed it to his chest, forcing himself to breathe.
It could mean anything.
Maybe she was just being polite.
Maybe she wanted to use the tune for show.
Maybe—worst of all—Aurora felt sorry for him.
Elias swallowed hard, anxiety rising like a wave he couldn't control.
After School
The music room was quiet, sunlight filtering through the tall windows onto the soft orange bars. The piano was in the middle, gleaming, waiting.
Aurora was there—sitting on the bench, hands resting lightly on the keys.
He looked up as he entered. His smile was small, soft, almost nervous.
"Come in."
"Yes," Elias said, his voice firm. "Do you want to… talk?"
Aurora nodded. He slowly closed the piano lid.
"I read about your notebook," she said.
Elias felt his heart pounding in his ribs.
"I know I shouldn't have done it. It's private. But the music... Elias, it's beautiful. And it's like it's saying something."Aurora said.
Elias looked away. "No."
"But it is." Aurora stood up, walked closer. "That piece—The Woman in the Hallway—it's full of emotion. Longing. It's like someone loves someone but doesn't know how to tell them."
Elias throat closed.
Every cell in her body screamed to run, hide, and disappear.
Aurora's voice softened. "Elias... is that me?"
Elias froze.
The world fell silent except for the pounding inside her ears.
He couldn't look at her, couldn't breathe. He felt every fear she'd ever felt like a noose holding his back.
After too long, he whispered, "It doesn't matter."
Aurora took a step closer to him. "Of course."
"No," Elias said sharply. "Because you're with Adrian. And even if you weren't, someone like you… you don't look at someone like me."
Aurora's eyes widened—a flash of pain in them.
Not for herself, but for him.
"Elias, that's not fair," she whispered. "You don't know how I look at you."
She shook her head. "I don't want to feel sorry for you."
"Pity?" His voice trembled—hurt, disappointed, emotional. "Do you think it's just like that?"
Elias opened his mouth, but Aurora moved closer, inches away.
"I'm done with Adrian," she said. "Not because of you. But because I'm not happy. Because something feels wrong."
"Why are you telling me this?" Elias whispered.
"Because I want to understand you," Aurora said softly. "Because your music is like… like a window into your heart, and I can't help but think about that."
Her pulse slowed.
Elias looked at her as if she mattered.
More than he could handle.
But fear—the oldest part of Elias—still clung tightly.
"Aurora," he whispered, hesitantly, "I can't lose you. Even as a friend."
Aurora chest rose quickly, and she was out of breath.
And then she said the words that destroyed Elias:
"Then tell me the truth, Elias.
Tell me if the music is about me."
Elias stared at Aurora.
At the woman he had silently loved for so many years.
And for the first time, he saw something new in her eyes—fear.
She was afraid too.
Afraid of his answer.
Afraid of losing this moment.
Elias opened his mouth—ready to tell her everything.
But before he could speak—
The door swung open loudly.
"Elias? Aurora?"
It was Adrian.
Adrian looked between them—Elias pale and trembling, Aurora standing inches away from him—and suspicion curved Adrian face.
Aurora immediately backed away.
Adrian's jaw clenched. "What's going on here?"
Elias felt a pang in his stomach.
This—this disaster—was the reason he had remained silent for three years.
Aurora opened her mouth, but Elias spoke first.
"Nothing," he said quietly. "Nothing's going on."
Elias turned away, clutching the lavender note in his hand like a wound.
And he walked out before Aurora could stop him.