Chapter 95: The Music Between Us
Chapter 95: The Music Between Us
The morning slipped in quietly, spilling silver light through the pale linen curtains of the Ainsley study. It touched the wooden floor like a reverent hand — diffused, soft, unassuming. Eva sat cross - legged on the cushion by the window, still in her navy pajama set with tiny stars embroidered on the cuffs. Her curls were a tangle of sleep, but her gaze was crystalline, steady.
She wasn't playing. She was writing.
Her small hand moved with deliberate grace across her poetry book — half sketchpad, half spellbook — pressing lyrics into the page as though casting incantations. E•••••• and L•••• spilled down the lines like lace unraveling from her thoughts. On a separate sheet, she'd drawn a tangle of treble clefs and bar lines, tying her verses to melodies that felt as if they'd been born already woven together.
From the doorway, Evelyn leaned quietly, a mug of chamomile tea warming her palms. Her eyes brimmed with awe.
Behind her, Reginald — still in weekend sweats, laptop tucked under his arm — peered in. His brow furrowed.
"She's composing again," Evelyn whispered. "That little melody from last night's bath… she turned it into a love song."
Reginald exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Is it… another one for Seraphina?"
Evelyn didn't answer right away. She watched her daughter's bowed head, her furiously scribbling fingers.
"Every piece is for her," she said at last. "Every line. Every note. It's all Yue."
Reginald nodded slowly, torn.
"She's brilliant," he murmured. "But she's too soft. Too bound up in one person. She needs training. Somewhere focused. Somewhere that can challenge her."
"She's five," Evelyn said gently, though her voice trembled. "She's five, and she's writing symphonies with her heart."
Vivienne, barefoot and amused, stepped in beside them, phone discreetly recording through the cracked door.
"She's making history," she whispered. "And I'm capturing the first draft."
They stood together in silence, watching Eva shape her world one note at a time—not like a child playing pretend, but like a soul building a home.
*****
Seraphina Langford sat at the baby grand piano in the music room, barefoot and barely awake. Her lavender sweatshirt hung off one shoulder, and a thin gold chain glinted at her collarbone as she reached for a new chord. Beyond the tall windows, morning mist still clung to the hedgerows and rose garden like silk.
She'd been humming a certain tune on and off for days — a melody Eva had murmured half - finished into her voicemail one night, drowsy, breathy, half singing.
The piano responded gently beneath her fingertips, but the emotion that bloomed in her chest was anything but gentle. It ached. This wasn't just a composition. It felt like a vow.
A soft knock pulled her back.
Eva stood in the doorway, curls slightly tamed, hoodie two sizes too big, sleeves swallowed her hands. Her violin case hung from her fingers like a ceremonial offering.
"Yue," she said, full of theatrical gravitas, "may I please join the sacred ceremony of your music?"
Seraphina laughed, beckoning her in. "You always have a seat at the altar, little one. Come."
Eva glided across the room, dragging her bow behind her like a scepter. She tuned with careful precision, then paused — eyes on Seraphina, always on her.
When they played, it wasn't just harmony.
It was invocation.
Eva's fingers moved by memory, not sight. She never looked at the sheet music; she didn't have to. Her rhythm came from the shape of Seraphina's breath, the tilt of her hands, the swell of each note.
When the final chord faded, Eva didn't lower her violin. She simply leaned sideways and draped herself against Seraphina like a shawl.
"Did it sound like me?" she murmured, eyes fluttering shut. "Or did it sound like us?"
Seraphina stroked her curls. "It sounded like the moment before a hug becomes real."
Eva turned her face upward. "Ina. Kiss me. You forgot."
Seraphina smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Forgive me, Miss Composer."
Eva sighed contentedly against her shoulder. "I forgive you. But only because you remembered your lines."
*****
That week, nearly every afternoon was spent in the Langford music room — composing, rehearsing, sharing whispered secrets over tea and too many biscuits (which Eva dunked until they dissolved entirely). Sometimes, she'd climb into Seraphina's lap and demand that every note on the piano be explained, as if Seraphina had personally invented music.
And Seraphina, for all the pressures in her world — school work some are university level, her parents' looming expectations, an inbox groaning with unopened emails — always made space.
But one afternoon, beneath the cherry blossom tree, petals drifting into Eva's hair like confetti, Seraphina ventured into fragile territory.
"Eva," she began softly, "have you thought about… making new friends?"
Eva's eyes widened. "No."
"Not even just a few? Someone to play tag with, or —"
"I don't want tag," Eva snapped. "I want you."
"It's not about not wanting me," Seraphina said gently. "It's about having more joy. You deserve to be surrounded by other brilliant, strange little minds."
"They don't know my music," Eva muttered, lip trembling. "They don't know I call you Ina. They won't kiss me when I need it."
Seraphina cupped her face. "Eva. You can still have me. I'm not going anywhere. I just want you to have more, not less."
Eva lunged forward, clinging to her waist, burying her face in her neck.
"You're my whole song," she whispered. "The other kids are just background noise."
That night, Eva couldn't sleep. Seraphina's words spun circles in her chest. New friends. More joy. But joy wasn't what she wanted. She wanted constancy. Music. Her.
Wrapped in her weighted blanket, violin case at her side, she stared at the ceiling until the ache became too loud.
She got up.
By the light of her moon lamp, she wrote furiously — not just notes, not just lyrics. Pleas. Prayers. An entire movement titled: The Music Between Us.
It had verses. A bridge. It had crying written into the crescendo.
And when the sun finally broke through the curtains like a hesitant question, her hands were stained with ink, her heart raw and poured out on paper.
At sunrise, Seraphina opened her front door to find Eva standing barefoot on the porch, violin case in one hand, manuscript pages in the other.
"I finished the song," Eva said without preamble. "But it has to be you. Only you."
Seraphina took the sheets, scanning the delicate notations.
It wasn't just a song.
It was Eva — unfiltered, unafraid, and utterly in love with the shape of being known.
"I want to sing it with you," Eva whispered. "I want us to be the duet."
Seraphina's voice cracked. "Of course, nightingale. Let's play."
*****
"The Music Between Us"
Lyrics and Composition by Eva Ainsley (Age 5)
Eva (violin, singing softly):
Whispered like a secret, tender and sweet
I saw the sky and named it "you"
In every storm, in every hue
Your smile's the light my mornings keep
You hold my dreams while I'm asleep
I wrote this song inside my chest
A heart that beats at your request
The notes all know where they belong
When you're beside me, I am strong
Seraphina (piano, echoing in spoken word):
She sings in stars, this little one
A melody the moon begun
Her hands too small for such deep sound
Yet in her love, the world is found
Together (interwoven):
Eva: Ina, my sunlight, my forever tune
Seraphina: Eva, so bright, you rose too soon
Eva: No wind or rain can pull me far
Seraphina: You are enough just as you are
Eva: And if I fade or go away
Seraphina: I'll find you in the notes you play
Eva: Then play me, Ina, keep me near
Seraphina: I'll play you close, I'll hold you here
Bridge (Eva solo):
They say I should have other friends
But none would hold me where I bend
They don't hear music when I speak
But you do, always, every week
You are the page where I begin
My every string, my violin
You are my ink, my song, my skin
If I could, I'd play you in
Finale (both, fading):
Eva: So let the world be vast and wide
Seraphina: I'll be the calm within your tide
Eva: I'll grow, but promise, don't let go
Seraphina: Your music's mine, and this I know
Both:
The music between us will never cease
It sings of love, it sings of peace
Wherever we go, whatever we do
My heart will always play for you.
*****
They watched from the doorway again — Eva asleep on Seraphina's shoulder, violin case beside her, face tear-streaked but at peace.
"We need to talk to her," Evelyn whispered. "But gently."
"She loves her so fiercely," Reginald said, eyes heavy. "It's like she was born with only one name on her heart."
"She'll learn to stretch," Evelyn replied. But her voice wavered.
Vivienne, sitting cross - legged nearby, didn't look up from her phone. She'd recorded the whole performance. Quietly, she smiled.
That evening, Eva curled on the sunroom couch, cheeks warm from crying. Her violin lay untouched beside her.
Seraphina sat nearby, letting the silence settle.
"You know," she said softly, "you don't have to stop loving me just to love other people too."
Eva's voice cracked. "But what if someone else takes your place?"
Seraphina leaned close, pressed her forehead to Eva's. "That's not how love works, nightingale. Love doesn't replace. It expands."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Eva tilted her head back dramatically. "Then I demand three kisses. One for now, one for tomorrow, and one in case I forget how to breathe without you."
Seraphina laughed, then kissed her slow and sacred.
Eva would try. To open up. To share her songs with new faces, new hearts.
But every note she wrote would still return to one name. Every verse, every harmony, every whispered line —
It would always be Ina.
In the days that followed, Eva continued to compose, her music evolving with her emotions. She began to explore new themes, incorporating elements of hope, resilience, and the beauty of change.
While her devotion to Seraphina remained steadfast, Eva slowly opened herself to new experiences, finding inspiration in the world around her.
Through her music, she discovered a way to express her feelings, to navigate the complexities of love, growth, and the journey of life.
And in every note, every melody, Seraphina's presence lingered — a constant source of strength and inspiration.