Sophia's question hung in the cold subway air like a heavy cloud. Romeo stood frozen. He did not know how to answer her without breaking the magic of the moment. He wanted to keep his father's dark, mean world far away from her and her beautiful music. He was terrified that if she heard the name "Victor Kane," the light in her eyes would go out, and she would run away forever.
Suddenly, a clever idea flashed into his mind. He swallowed hard and looked her in the eye.
"I work as a waiter at a bar in Manhattan," Romeo said. He forced the words out of his mouth, trying his best to make them sound like the truth. He paused for a long moment, looking down at the dusty floor, then continued, "Tonight… I lost my job. I guess I was just walking through the streets because I did not know where else to go."
Sophia watched his face very closely while he spoke. She was good at reading people, just like she was good at reading music. She noticed the way his jaw tightened. She saw how his eyes dropped to the floor for a second before he looked back at her. To her, he did not look like a rich prince. He looked like a man who was hurting. The words sounded like he had practiced them in his head, but she thought the sadness behind the words was real. She thought he was just another person crushed by the big, mean city.
"I am so sorry," she said, and she really meant it from the bottom of her heart. She reached out as if to touch his arm to comfort him, but she pulled back at the last second. "New York is a hard place. It is full of people trying to find their way. There are artists, workers, and dreamers everywhere. Most of them are tired in the same quiet way you are tonight."
She pointed toward an old, scratched wooden bench near one of the large stone pillars. The light bulb above it was flickering on and off, making the shadows jump, but it looked better than standing in the middle of the rushing crowd.
"You can sit here, if you want," she offered kindly. "The trains are always slow on Sunday nights. There is no use in rushing to nowhere when the world is moving so slowly."
Romeo nodded and followed her to the bench. He sat down on the hard wood, making sure to leave a respectful space between them. He did not want to scare her or make her feel uncomfortable. He watched as she carefully leaned her violin case against the bench. She handled it like it was made of the thinnest glass in the world.
"Do you play an instrument too?" Sophia asked suddenly. She had noticed something about him. She had seen the way he looked at her violin earlier. He did not look at it like a stranger who just saw a piece of wood. He looked at it like someone who knew what a G-string sounded like or how a bow felt in a steady hand.
Romeo became very quiet. He thought about his giant, cold house. He thought about the expensive, shiny pianos in the empty, lonely rooms. He thought about his father, Victor, who always stood over him with a stopwatch and told him to play every single note perfectly, like a machine.
"I used to play," Romeo said quietly. "But my music was very different from yours. It was cold. It was like following a map on a piece of paper without ever looking up to see the green trees or the blue sky. I played because I was told to play, not because I wanted to. I played for a grade, not for a feeling."
Sophia looked at him with a gentle, knowing smile. Her messy hair fell over her shoulder as she leaned in toward him.
"Music should never be a map," she said softly. "It should be a journey where you get a little bit lost. My father always told me something that I try to remember every single day. He said that if you do not feel the note in your own heart, the people in the audience will never feel it in theirs. You have to bleed into the music a little bit. You have to give it a piece of yourself."
She looked away for a second, and her bright blue eyes grew sad and misty. "He taught me that music is a gift from God. He said that even when the world takes everything else away from you—your house, your money, your shop—you still have the song inside you. That is why I am here tonight. I am here to keep his song alive."
Romeo felt a sharp, stinging pain of guilt in his chest. He knew exactly who had taken things away from her family. He knew his father, Victor, had spent his whole life turning music into a way to make piles of money. His father bought small, happy music shops just to close them down and build big, gray offices. Victor did not care about the "song inside" a person. He only cared about the gold bars in his heavy bank vault.
"I think your father is a very wise man," Romeo said. He felt like his heart was finally waking up from a long, cold sleep. "I have spent my whole life surrounded by people who play perfect music. They never miss a note, but they never say anything true. But tonight, when I was listening to you... I felt something for the first time in years. Your music has a soul, Sophia."
Sophia blushed deeply. Her face turned a bright, pretty pink under the dim station lights. No one had ever told her that her music had a soul before. Most people just walked past and dropped a penny without ever looking at her face.
"Thank you," she whispered. "That is the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time."
For a few minutes, they both forgot exactly where they were. They forgot about the dirty, smelly subway station and the cold wind. They talked about how certain songs have the power to make you feel happy and sad at the exact same time. They talked about how the city is so loud and angry, but a simple, soft melody can make the whole world go quiet.
"Sometimes I play because I am angry at the world," Sophia admitted. Her blue eyes were shining now, full of fire. "And sometimes I play because I am hopeful for a better tomorrow. Tonight, I was playing because I was scared. We have been having a hard time lately. But talking to you... I feel a little less scared. You are a good listener, Romeo."
Romeo looked at her and felt a great weight on his chest. He wanted to reach out and hold her hand. He wanted to tell her that she never had to be scared again. He wanted to tell her that he had enough money to buy her a thousand violins and a grand stage made of marble to play on. But he knew that if he told her his last name was Victor, she would scream and run away. To her, Victor was the name of the monster who had stolen her father's pride.
"You are the brave one," Romeo said firmly. "You stand here in the dark and you share your heart with people you do not even know. Most people spend their whole lives hiding their hearts behind big walls. I know I do that every day."
Sophia looked deep into his green eyes. She saw the shadows and the secrets hiding there. "Maybe you just have not found the right song to play yet," she said. "Everyone has a song hidden inside. You just have to find the one that fits your soul perfectly."
Just then, a cold wind from a distant, zooming train blew through the station. It made the old, dirty newspapers on the floor fly around like brown birds. It was getting very late, and the station was getting empty. Sophia knew she had to get back to her sick father in their tiny, gray apartment. She had to show him the small amount of money she had earned so they could buy a loaf of bread. She stood up and tightened the heavy strap of her violin case on her shoulder.
"I have to go now," she said. Her voice sounded a bit sad, like she did not want the conversation to end either.
Romeo stood up quickly. He did not want her to leave his side. He felt like if she walked up those cold stone stairs, he might never find her again in this giant, crowded city.
"Will you be here tomorrow?" he asked. He tried not to sound too desperate, but his voice shook just a little bit.
Sophia looked at the empty spot by the stone pillar where she usually stood. Then she looked back at him and smiled. It was the first time she had smiled at him like a friend. "I have to be here. I need to earn more money for my family. This is my job now."
Romeo nodded and looked at her with a kind, soft expression. "I will be here too. I want to hear a new song. I think I need to hear your music again to stay awake."
Sophia's smile grew even bigger. It was a real, bright smile that reached her eyes and made them sparkle. It made her look like the happiest girl in New York. "Sure, I will play a new song just for you tomorrow, Mr. Waiter."
She turned around and began to walk toward the exit. Romeo stood by the wooden bench and watched her go. He watched the way her long, old coat swayed as she climbed the stairs. For the first time in his life, he felt like he was seeing the world in bright, beautiful colors instead of just boring gray.
But as he walked out of the station and found his very expensive car parked around the corner, he felt a cold shiver. He looked at the soft leather seats and the shiny, high-tech dashboard. He remembered the truth. He was Victor's son. She was Arthur's daughter. His father had destroyed the dreams of her father just that very morning.
Romeo sat in his car and gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white like bone. He was in love with the daughter of the man his father hated most in the world.
He looked at his own reflection in the mirror. "Who am I?" he whispered to the empty car. He was a prince in a glass tower, and she was a girl living in the shadows. He knew he had to keep his secret, or he would lose the only person who finally made him feel alive.
The music brought them together in the dark, but the truth might pull them apart when the sun comes up. Will Romeo tell her who he is? Or will the secret destroy everything they have started to build? Keep listening to find out what happens next in the story of the Prince and the Violinist!