Saturday arrived with its usual silence. In the past, Adrian would have welcomed it: a day to recover from work, to rest in the comfort of his routine. But now, the quiet felt suffocating.
He looked around his apartment — neat, ordered, untouched. A life preserved in glass. A museum of safety. And suddenly, he couldn't stand it.
Without giving himself time to think, Adrian grabbed his coat and stepped outside. He didn't know where he was going; he only knew he couldn't stay still.
His feet carried him back to the park. The usual hum of laughter, children playing, and music filled the air. But this time, Adrian didn't linger on the edges. He walked toward the heart of it.
Near the fountain, a small group had gathered around a musician — a young man strumming a guitar, his case open for coins. The melody was uneven, but full of joy. When the man paused, he looked up. "Anyone else want to try?"
Adrian's first instinct was to step back. But before he could, someone nudged him forward, and suddenly all eyes were on him.
He laughed nervously, shaking his head. "I don't play."
The musician grinned. "Doesn't matter. Music isn't about perfection. It's about letting go."
Adrian hesitated. Every part of him screamed to retreat To slip back into the safety of the crowd.
But then he thought of Elara — how she moved her brush without fear of mistakes, how she embraced chaos as part of the beauty.
And so, with trembling hands, Adrian took the guitar.
The first strum was clumsy, the second worse. People chuckled, but not cruelly. Someone clapped in rhythm, encouraging him. Adrian laughed — a sound that startled even himself — and tried again. The notes weren't right, but they were his. For the first time in years, he wasn't worried about how he looked, or what others thought. He was simply alive.
When he handed the guitar back, his heart raced, not from shame but exhilaration. The world hadn't ended. No one had mocked him. In fact, a few strangers clapped, and one even said, "Not bad for a first try."
As Adrian walked away, the city seemed brighter. He had made a mess, yes — but a beautiful one. And maybe that was the point.