He still hadn't moved.
The boy stood near the door like he was afraid any sudden step might shatter the silence I'd just created. I watched him, my heart pounding louder than the piano ever could.
"I can go," he said, pointing behind him. "This place… it seems important to you."
I swallowed. It was important. Too important.
But something about the way he spoke—careful, almost gentle—made it hard to tell him to leave.
"You don't have to," I said before I could stop myself.
His eyes widened slightly, like he hadn't expected that answer.
I slid over on the piano bench, giving him space I wasn't sure I was ready to share. He hesitated, then sat down, keeping a polite distance between us.
"What were you playing?" he asked.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I just… play whatever feels right."
He nodded slowly. "It sounded like you."
The words made my cheeks warm.
We sat there, the late afternoon sun stretching shadows across the floor. I told him my name. He told me his. Eli.
"I come here to think," he said after a moment. "It's quiet. Or… it was."
I smiled a little. "I guess we both found it."
There was a pause. Not an awkward one. The kind that felt safe.
"I won't tell anyone," he said suddenly. "About you playing. I promise."
I looked at him, surprised.
"Why?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Some things shouldn't be shared with everyone."
For the first time, I believed him.
And just like that, the room that had always been only mine… became ours.