The project was mostly finished.
The Dunphy dining room had been cleared, dishes stacked in the sink, the noise of the house faded to distant TV chatter and the occasional laugh track. Somewhere, Phil was explaining the definition of "charisma" to Luke using sock puppets. Claire was on a call. Haley had vanished upstairs.
Alex and Elias remained at the dining table, side by side, laptops open. Neither typing.
Outside, the sky had shifted from gold to violet.
Alex didn't look up from her screen when she spoke.
"You don't like people hearing you sing."
Elias glanced at her. "You do."
"That wasn't a question."
"I noticed."
She tapped the edge of her keyboard. "Why?"
He paused. Took a breath. Not deep — calculated.
"You heard me in the music room."
"Yes."
"And?"
"And it didn't sound like something you just do for fun."
He said nothing.
Alex finally turned toward him, resting her elbow on the table, chin slightly lifted — the same posture she used when challenging teachers, judges, or anyone arrogant enough to underestimate her.
"It sounded like pain," she said quietly. "Like you were trying to exorcise something."
The silence sat heavy between them.
Elias closed his laptop.
"I don't sing for people," he said. "I sing because sometimes silence gets too loud."
Alex tilted her head, trying to read him. She didn't know where the sarcasm went. Or the ego. What was left was... unsettling.
"Then why hide it?"
"Because people ruin things when they look at them too closely."
He stood.
Alex followed him with her eyes. "Is that what you're afraid of?"
"I'm not afraid," he said, too fast.
Then he met her gaze, and added softly, "I just remember what it felt like to be ignored."
That stopped her cold.
He didn't elaborate.
Didn't need to.
Alex's arms slowly uncrossed.
"Okay," she said after a moment. "So maybe you're not showing off."
Elias gave the faintest smile. "That sounded dangerously like a compliment."
"Don't get used to it."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
They stared at each other — no smirking, no posturing.
Just eye to eye.
And for a split second, neither of them said what they were thinking.