Wednesday felt heavier than the rest of the week so far.
The rain from yesterday had left puddles everywhere, reflecting gray sky like cracked mirrors across the courtyard.
The air stayed chilly, damp, clinging to jackets and hair.
Jade carried her guitar case slung over her shoulder all day, telling herself it was just habit.
Not because she'd invited someone.
Not because she hoped Rose would actually show.
Classes dragged as usual.
She caught glimpses of Rose in the hallways—once during passing period, once near the lockers—but they only exchanged small nods, quick smiles.
Nothing more.
Enough to make Jade's pulse tick up, then settle again.
When the final bell rang, Jade headed straight to the music room at the far end of the arts wing.
The door was always unlocked after hours if Mr. Reyes forgot to lock it—which he usually did on Wednesdays.
She slipped inside, flipped on only the small desk lamp near the piano.
The room smelled faintly of wood polish and old sheet music.
It was a as quiet as a own flying in the twilight .
She set her case down, unzipped it, lifted out the guitar.
She sat on the edge of a stool ,
strummed a few soft chords to warm up—nothing loud, just enough to fill the silence without breaking it.
She played the melody she'd been tinkering with since Tuesday.
The one that had started under the awning in the rain.
Simple. Repetitive. Like breathing.
She didn't hear the door open at first.
Just felt the shift in the air—cooler for a second, then warmer.
Rose stood in the doorway, backpack still on, cardigan sleeves tugged over her hands.
She looked uncertain, like she might turn and leave.
Jade's fingers stilled on the strings.
"Hey," she said softly.
"You came."
Rose gave a small nod.
"I… wasn't sure if you'd be here."
"I am."
Rose stepped inside.
Rose closed the door quietly behind her.
The click echoed a little too loud in the empty room.
She hesitated near the piano, then pulled out the chair beside it and sat.
Not too close.Not too far.
Jade started playing again—same melody, slower this time.
She kept her eyes on the fretboard, giving Rose space to just… be.
Rose listened , closing her eyes gently.
Her shoulders loosened by degrees.
When the last note faded, she opened her eyes.
"That felt like…" Rose searched for the word.
"Safe. And floating. At the same time."
Jade's throat tightened.
She set the guitar across her lap.
"Really?"
"Yeah." Rose's voice was quiet.
"Like when you're in a dream and nothing can touch you. But you still feel everything."
Jade didn't know what to say to that.
So she didn't say anything.
Just nodded.
They sat in silence after that.
Not awkward.
The lamp cast soft yellow light across the floor.
Outside, faint sounds of the janitor's cart rolling down the hall drifted in.
Rose pulled a book from her bag—something slim, poetry maybe—and opened it on her lap.
She didn't read aloud. Just turned pages slowly.
Jade picked up the guitar again.
Strummed quietly—different chords now, softer ones.
Letting the music fill the gaps without demanding attention.
After a while, Rose spoke without looking up.
"I used to play piano. A long time ago."
Jade's strumming paused.
"You did?"
"Mm-hm. My mom taught me. Before… everything."
Rose's fingers traced the edge of the book.
"I stopped when we moved. No room for a piano in the new place."
Jade felt the weight behind the words.
Didn't push.
Just said, "If you ever want to try the one here… it's out of tune, but it works."
Rose glanced at the upright piano in the corner.
"Maybe someday."
Another stretch of quiet. Comfortable and Easy.
When the clock on the wall ticked toward five, Rose closed her book.
"I should go. Ethan will wonder where I am."
Jade stood too.
Packed the guitar slowly.
"Yeah. Me too."
They walked to the door together.
Rose paused with her hand on the knob.
"Thanks for letting me sit here. It was… nice."
Jade smiled—small, real.
"Anytime. Seriously."
Rose met her eyes for a second longer than usual then opened the door.
The hallway was dimmer now, lights on timers.
They walked side by side toward the main exit.
At the end of the door, Rose turned.
"Tomorrow?"
Jade's heart did that familiar, quiet flip.
"Tomorrow."
Rose gave a tiny wave and stepped out into the chilly evening. Her cardigan fluttered in the wind. She disappeared around the corner.
Jade lingered in the doorway a moment.
The cold air brushed her face.
She pulled out her notebook—pages still a little warped from yesterday's rain—and wrote one quick line:
You listen like the room was waiting for you.
She stared at it. Eventually closed the cover.
Still didn't know what to call the feeling blooming under her ribs.
But she knew she wanted Rose to hear that melody again.
Someday.