Absolutely. Here is Chapter 15 of Only the Heart Remembers, titled "The Piano B
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CHAPTER 15: The Piano Breaks
Eli's fingers hovered over the piano keys, unmoving.
The room was silent, yet inside him, a storm surged louder than any sonata he'd ever composed. He had sat like this for hours—back straight, face still, hands trembling. The melody he once played for Ava, the one that made her cry and smile and paint… it wouldn't come.
He couldn't remember the notes.
No—he could. But they felt… wrong.
Too gentle. Too soft. Too hopeful.
And he wasn't feeling hopeful.
The nightmares were back—vivid and cruel. Every time he closed his eyes, he smelled smoke. Every time Ava touched his arm, he felt flames licking at his skin. But worse than the fire was the creeping suspicion in his gut, an itch he couldn't name, something unfinished in the corners of Ava's voice when she talked about her past.
He hated it.
He hated the questions.
He hated that he needed her more than he'd ever needed anyone.
His fist slammed into the keys.
The sound was harsh, jarring.
Ava heard it from the hallway.
She rushed to the door, heart racing. "Eli?"
No answer.
Then—CRACK.
Another violent smash of keys.
"Eli!" she called again, pounding on the door.
Inside, Eli stood from the piano bench, breathing hard. One by one, he yanked the keys upward, slamming the lid shut with trembling hands. The piano—the only thing that had ever made sense to him—felt foreign. Ugly.
He kicked the bench over.
Ava burst in. "Stop—stop, please!"
He didn't.
He turned toward the sound of her voice, face wild with grief. "I can't do it, Ava! I can't keep pretending that playing this—this thing is going to save me!"
"It's not pretending," she said, stepping closer, voice shaking. "It is saving you. It saved me!"
He laughed bitterly. "Then why do I feel like I'm drowning every time I touch it?"
"Because healing hurts," she whispered. "And because... something inside you is begging to be let out."
He paused.
She came closer. "Tell me. Tell me what's clawing at your chest."
His jaw clenched. "Why did you paint the fire?"
Ava froze.
"I saw it," he said. "I touched the canvas. I know what flames feel like, Ava—and those were mine."
She looked down, guilt crashing like waves.
"I didn't mean to," she murmured. "It just... came out of me."
"Why?" he asked, voice breaking. "Why does your storm look like my nightmare?"
Her silence was louder than anything.
He stepped back, like her quiet was a knife. "You know something, don't you?"
"I don't know what I know!" she cried. "I just—ever since I got here, something's been waking up in me. A memory. A face. Screams. And fire. Always fire."
His breath left him in a rush.
She reached for him.
He stepped away.
The piano sat behind them, bruised and broken. A metaphor neither of them wanted to acknowledge.
Eli turned his back. "I need time."
Ava's heart cracked. "Please don't shut me out."
"I have to," he said. "Because if I don't... I'll break more than just the piano."
And he walked out.
Leaving Ava standing in the silence that screamed.
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