Chapter 7: — "Reunion Under the Stars"

The streets were quiet as Miyu walked home, her violin case resting heavily against her back. The day had passed in a blur of homework and exhaustion, her thoughts wandering unbidden to Ren and the music they had started.

She tried to tell herself she had made the right choice, she had obeyed her parents, kept the music buried. But the emptiness she felt now was sharper than she expected.

It was then she heard it.

Soft chords, tentative but familiar, floating through the air from the music room window below the small hill near her home.

Her heart skipped. That strumming... no, it couldn’t be. She pressed herself against the shadows, peeking toward the source.

There he was.

Ren, hunched over his guitar on the porch of the empty clubhouse, eyes closed, fingers moving desperately across the strings. The melody was theirs, the fragments they had worked on together, but incomplete, broken, haunted by absence.

Miyu’s breath caught in her throat. Each note seemed to reach into her chest, tugging at a part of her she had tried to ignore. She pressed a hand over her mouth, tears welling.

He wasn’t just playing a song. He was calling to her.

Before she could think, she climbed the small hill, feet silent on the grass. She reached the porch, heart pounding.

Ren opened his eyes at the sound of her footsteps. For a moment, his expression froze. Then—relief, surprise, something softer, washed over him.

“Miyu…” His voice was low, unsure. “I thought… I thought you weren’t coming.”

She didn’t speak at first. The sight of him, the way he had poured everything into the music without her, made words impossible. Instead, she lifted her violin slowly, the bow trembling in her fingers.

“Can… can I?” she asked quietly.

Ren’s eyes lit up instantly. “Always.”

She stepped closer, setting the violin beneath her chin. For a moment, neither moved. Then, slowly, she drew the bow across the strings.

The sound was soft at first, hesitant, as if testing the waters. Ren strummed a gentle chord to answer, letting the melody find its rhythm.

The song that had been broken came alive again. Notes intertwined, each one a heartbeat, a question, a confession. Miyu felt the tension in her chest ease slightly, replaced by a warmth she had almost forgotten.

Ren’s eyes met hers for a brief moment. His grin was soft this time, genuine. “See? We’re better together.”

Her cheeks warmed, and she looked down at the strings. “…I… I missed this. I missed you.”

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you,” Ren admitted, voice quiet but firm. “Every note without you… it just… it wasn’t enough.”

Miyu’s tears spilled freely now. “I… I was scared. Scared of… everything.”

“Yeah.” Ren nodded, letting his fingers strum gently as he watched her play. “I get it. But you don’t have to be scared here. Not with me. Not with music.”

The wind blew softly, ruffling their hair as if the night itself was leaning in to listen. The stars above twinkled faintly, scattered across the dark sky like scattered notes of light.

For the first time in days, Miyu smiled through her tears. “I… I want to try again. With you. For real this time.”

Ren’s grin widened, and he leaned closer, strumming a chord that resonated with her melody. “That’s all I ever wanted to hear.”

Together, they played under the stars, the ocean breeze carrying the song outward. Each note held laughter, apology, promise, and hope. Every chord, every tremble of the violin, spoke more than words ever could.

And in that music, Miyu realized something she hadn’t dared to admit before:

She had fallen for him.

Ren’s fingers brushed against hers as their notes aligned perfectly for a fleeting moment, and they both blushed, hearts hammering in rhythm with the melody.

“Guess we’re a little predictable,” Ren said, teasing softly, though his eyes sparkled.

“…Maybe,” Miyu whispered, unable to hide her smile.

But neither wanted to stop. Not yet. Not while the song, and this feeling, was still alive.

For the first time, music didn’t feel like a secret. It felt like a bridge. A bond. And maybe, just maybe, it was the start of something more.