It was eerily silent in the apartment the next morning. Maya woke up to the gentle warm glow of dawn seeping through thin curtains, the city still murmuring below, unaware of the little, small private storm that was unfolding inside of her.
She hadn't really expected herself to sleep so soundly; the music still seemed to be there in the background of the night, infecting her dreams and becoming indistinguishable parts of the night. It was the first time in weeks that she hadn't felt the hollowness of her past tugging at her thoughts-the constant shadow of regrets and broken promises. The music, mysterious and haunting, had managed to blot everything out. But now, with daylight streaming into her apartment, reality crept in.
The first thing she did was walk up to the door of 2A. Her fingers hovered over the handle, hesitant. She had written a note under the door the night before; not expecting any reply, she just felt the urge to express herself over the beauty of the sounds heard. To thank the unknown soul who made her feel something. But the sun was already high when it struck her that maybe there was more. Maybe behind this music, a soul whom she cannot just forget existed. What if they were some person who had something to offer her? Someone who could, in some way, understand her?
Shaking her head, Maya muttered to herself. It was absurd to be thinking like this. She wasn't looking for connections. Not now. Not after everything.
But something deep inside her urged her to act.
It was a soft knock, a gentle rapping on the door-the knuckles barely seemed to make a noise. For a moment, nothing. Her heart pounded in waiting, but then-just as she was turning to walk away-she heard a shuffle from the other side.
The door creaked only a little open, showing him, tall and broad-shouldered though robed in shadow. Maya sucked in her breath at the outline, and it was him, the man behind the music.
Hi,' she said softly, her voice betraying a flicker of uncertainty. She hadn't expected him to open the door. She hadn't really thought this far ahead. She only knew that she couldn't just leave things hanging in the air.
And then the man. Aarav, she would soon learn-his eyes froze in her face, an intensity that was undeniable, a stinging rip of flutter that she hadn't prepared for. The music of the previous night felt like it belonged to another life, and yet was now so much more ahead, breathing between them.
"Hi," Aarav finally said in a low, wary tone. His expression was closed, but there was something soft in the eyes, as if he had seen something he hadn't expected to.
"I. I just wanted to thank you," Maya stammered, suddenly feeling a little silly. "The music last night. It was beautiful. I just couldn't help but feel that way. I. I needed to thank you."
Aarav didn't utter a word. Instead, he stepped aside and pushed the door open wider to let her see more of the apartment from behind him—a poorly lit space with music unmistakably continuing in the air. Sheet music littered the floor, half-finished melody floating in the air like an open question.
Maya hesitated, her fingers quivering a little as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I didn't mean to intrude," she said, feeling the space between them grow. There was something about him, something she just couldn't quite place, that made her feel like she wasn't welcome, yet at the same time there was something almost familiar, as if she'd known him before.
"Don't worry about it," Aarav said softly now. "I didn't think anyone would hear." He stepped aside, but his presence was still heavy in the doorway.
Maya's eyes roved about the room, tracing the neatness of the space: the shelves lined with old books, the guitar slung along the wall, and the piano occupying center stage in the corner. Beautiful, intimate—it was his world. But it was the emptiness in the room that felt to belong to another time. A time before he'd retreated into himself.
Her eyes followed Aarav's, and for what felt like a very long time, there was just the sound of their breathing.
"I didn't think anyone was awake at this hour," he said after a beat, his tone almost apologetic. "I play. to distract myself."
It felt like he was speaking instead of making this music. There was more to what the song seemed to say which he could not reveal at that time, or so it seemed. That is what made her want to learn more about it, the mystery behind this music.
"Well," Maya started, with a small hesitation and a small step into the room, "I'm not sure if you were trying to be heard, but I. I wanted to thank you anyway."
Aarav looked at her for a second, as if trying to decipher an expression. "I suppose someone doesn't normally hear the music and run in here to thank me for it. Normally, I. I am alone in here."
This time, the silence between them felt perfect but not uncomfortable. There was something unsaid in the air—a shared understanding, a shared loneliness.
She thought, briefly, of the note she had left - her leaving in droplets, unearthing the thought that she hadn't expected him to open the door, much less reply. And yet, here he was-standing before her, saying so little, and yet saying so much at the same time.
"Maybe," Maya said softly, "we could talk sometime. I'd love to hear some more of your music."
Aarav relaxed a moment, yet there was still that flicker of caution in his eyes. "I don't. I don't know if I can promise much of that. But. I could play, if you'd like. I mean, there's no harm in that, right?"
A skip in her heart. Whether it was out of the goodness of his heart or mere politeness, this boy wanted her to come in so she could listen to him play his music. That was enough for her.
She didn't have the chance to answer when she saw it—a small smile at the edge of Aarav's mouth. It was there. For the first time since she stepped into the apartment, Maya found herself believing that maybe, just maybe, there could be more here. Actually real.
"I'm Maya," she said, inching forward a little, her voice barely above the wind's rush.
"Aarav," he returned, his voice fragile, soft.
And with that, the space between them somehow closed in on itself, though it was no less full of unwritten stories. It marked the beginning of something, though Maya wasn't sure what that something could possibly be. But as the door closed behind her, the quiet buzz of the city seemed to fade away, and for that moment at least, all that existed was the music. Aarav's music.
The story had just begun. Only Maya could feel it in her bones that something was going to change.