Page 25 of Broken Hearts

“That’s great. I would really like to do it.”

He taps his pen on his desk, thinking, and then he sighs. “We can do a trial and see how it goes. Would that be acceptable?”

“Of course. You’re dealing with children, I get it.”

He smiles and nods. “See you on Monday. Four p.m.?”

“Yes, thank you.” As I turn to leave, the pressure eases and I breathe better.

“Would you like to see one of our classes in action? It might give you a better feel for what we do here.”

Nodding again, I feel curiosity now blending with my hope. “Yes, I’d like that.”

He stands up and gestures for me to follow him down a corridor.

He stops at the third door and pushes it open, revealing a bright, spacious room where a piano class is taking place. “This is one of our beginner groups,” he explains, his voice low so as not to disturb the class. “We try to make learning as interactive and fun as possible.”

Peering through the glass, I watch the young teacher and her students. “They seem really engaged,” I remark, impressed by the teacher’s animated approach and the children’s enthusiasm.

Brandon nods, pride evident in his eyes. “We’re fortunate to have passionate teachers. They’re the heart of this place. Do you think you could see yourself in a role like this?”

The idea is both daunting and exhilarating, leading to a hesitant admission. “Maybe. I’ve always believed in the power of music to inspire and heal. It would be… different, but rewarding, I think.”

He smiles, sensing my growing interest. “Different can be good. It’s about finding new ways to channel your passion and experience.”

Listening to the piano melody a little longer, feelings stir deep inside my heart. “I think I’d like to try,” I say, more to myself than to him. “To be a part of something like this.”

Brandon clasps his hands together, pleased. “That’s the spirit. I’ll see you on Monday.”

As I walk back down the corridor, I feel a surge of excitement at the prospect of teaching, of being part of this vibrant community. The idea of sharing my love for the violin, of guiding these young minds in their musical journey, fills me with a sense of purpose I haven’t felt in a long time.

Just as I’m about to leave, my attention is caught by a solitary figure in the corner of the hallway. A little boy, no more than six or seven, cradles a small violin in his arms. He’s intently watching a video on a tablet, his brow furrowed in concentration. Something about his quiet focus, the way he holds the violin so protectively, strikes a chord in me.

I approach him slowly, my footsteps quiet on the linoleum floor. “Hey, can I show you something?” I ask, crouching down to his level.

His eyes light up with curiosity as I guide his hands, showing him the proper way to hold the violin and bow. “Now, try pulling the bow across the string like this.”

He follows my instructions, and the sound that emanates is rough but promising. His face lights up with excitement, and a wave of emotion washes over me.

“It’s your first note,” I tell him, my voice thick with emotion. “Keep practicing, and you’ll be playing songs in no time.”

As I stand up, watching him experiment with his violin, a profound realization settles in my heart. Despite the pain and loss, despite the crushing blow to my dreams, music is still a part of me—a part I can share and nurture in others.

Stepping out of the community center, I feel lighter, as if a burden has been lifted. Yes, the violin is in my past, but its legacy lives on, not just in me, but in every child I will teach, every note they’ll play. It’s a different path, one I never expected, but maybe it’s exactly where I need to be.

Chapter 12

Eva

The morning sun filters through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over the small, cozy space. I find Poppy there, humming a cheerful tune as she swirls her spoon through a steaming mug of coffee. Her eyes are brighter than I’ve seen in a long time, and there’s a lightness in her movements that shows she's really happy and relaxed.

“Good morning, stranger,” I greet her, leaning against the doorway, a smile playing on my lips. It’s heartwarming to see her like this, so full of life and happiness. A part of me swells with pride, knowing that my support might have played a small part in this transformation.

“Morning!” Poppy beams, turning toward me. “Sleep well?”

“Like a rock,” I reply, moving into the kitchen. “You seem in a good mood. Things are going well with Ethan?”

She blushes a rosy hue that complements her bright eyes. “Yeah, they are,” she admits, a giggle escaping her. “I’m sorry, I’ve not been around often.”

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