In a dimly lit room, rain drummed against the windowpane, weaving a melancholy rhythm. A young man with jet-black hair sat before a dust-coated piano that seemed to beg for his touch. His fingers grazed the keys softly, but the melodies he once loved could no longer flow. It wasn't the piano that had grown useless—it was him.
At 22, Adolfo lived alone in a cramped apartment. The passion that once gave his life meaning—his dream of becoming a renowned pianist—lay buried beneath the responsibilities and trials of adulthood. After the accident, he had abandoned the piano in sorrow, surrendering the very thing that had defined him: the instrument he'd once vowed to dedicate his life to.
"Why?! Why can't I play the piano? I can't bear it… I can't bear this anymore. Every day, this feeling grows heavier. I've lost the people I loved, and my reason to live… Haven't I suffered enough?"
Only memories remained: dreams he'd forsaken and loves that never came to be. Now, he longed to drown himself in recollections of the fleeting moments when he'd once been happy.
Past
"Mom, I'm leaving!" Adolfo called out, hastily slinging his backpack over his shoulder.
"Be careful! And don't forget—you need to pick a club today, like we agreed," his mother replied from the kitchen.
"Yeah, Mom. See you later," he muttered, his tone lifeless.
He stepped outside and began the walk to school. At 15, Adolfo was a first-year high school student living with both parents, who had one condition for allowing him to play piano at parties or events: he had to join every school activity. They wanted proof that his passion wasn't just a passing whim.
But for Adolfo, the piano was his life. He couldn't imagine a day without it—so much so that he dreamed of playing professionally. His parents, however, dismissed this. They insisted he pursue a "serious" career, like medicine or engineering.
Yet at school, his troubles vanished as if they'd never existed. The reason? Sofía—the girl he'd been hopelessly in love with for years. She was his classmate: beautiful, brilliant, and effortlessly charming, always surrounded by friends. Adolfo admired her from afar, too timid to approach her. To Sofía, he was invisible—just another face among thirty students.
Time flew as he stole glances at her. Letting out a deep sigh, he whispered to himself, "She's as stunning as ever."
"That's all for today, everyone! Do your homework, and choose your club carefully—you won't be able to switch for a month after today," the teacher announced.
Among the students, a girl turned to her deskmate—Sofía, who was packing her notebooks into her bag.
"Hey, Sofía! Which club are you picking?"
"I'm not sure. My parents say I should learn to swim, so… probably swimming."
Adolfo, eavesdropping intently, felt his eyes widen as if struck by divine inspiration. This was his chance—the opportunity he'd waited for to finally get close to Sofía. With that, Adolfo knew exactly which club to choose.