Eduardo was sitting in a café attached to the Institute of Contemporary Art, waiting for a late French investor. The soft ambient music blended with the sound of cutlery and cappuccino being served.
Then, something caught his ear.
A string arrangement. Violin. Subtle piano. An elegant, melancholic, and... profound composition.
He stopped typing on his cell phone.
The music affected him in a strange way. There was a nostalgic beauty to it, as if each note expressed something he couldn't name. A kind of subtle pain that carried love and longing, and something that escaped logic.
What song is this? — he asked the waiter, discreetly pointing to the ambient sound.
Ah, this is new. From last month's instrumental recital at Villa-Lobos. Someone named Clara Vianna. It's been enchanting quite a few people, sir.
Clara Vianna.
Unknown name.
But Eduardo furrowed his brow.
Something about that music bothered him.
Not like noise. But like a mirror. Something familiar, though he didn't know why.
He swallowed the doubt and returned to his cell phone.
But the melody stayed with him. Until the end of the day.
------
That night, he received an unexpected invitation on his cell phone:
Bravura group reunion at Le Bijou Bar's Private Lounge. Confirmed attendance of Sophia Alcântara. 9 PM.
Eduardo stood still, staring at the screen for a few seconds.
Sophia.
The memory of her always left him divided. Part of him still held the impact of the stunning model, with her magnetism, her natural elegance, her easy laugh. Another part remembered the pain of her departure — of her choosing career over him.
Finally, he responded simply:
I'll be there.
------
The bar was luxurious, exclusive, with velvet panels and a grand piano in the background. His old friends from college days and early important gatherings were already assembled, drinking and laughing excessively.
When Eduardo entered, the conversation ceased for a few seconds.
And then she turned.
Sophia.
The same beauty that stopped rooms. Golden skin, striking eyes, loose hair, and a cruel elegance in her way of walking. She wore a white silk ensemble that made her look even more ethereal.
Eduardo — she said, approaching with a smile. — You look exactly as I remembered.
He smiled sideways, polite.
You, however... seem even more theatrical.
She laughed, lightly touching his arm with her fingers.
Always the charming skeptic.
They sat down. Friends pulled up conversations about travels, business, fashion shows, runways. Eduardo participated out of courtesy, but didn't engage.
Sophia observed him the entire time, with the same indecipherable gleam in her eyes.
You seem... tired — she commented, with a soft voice.
Work. — He took a sip of whiskey. — And marriage.
She raised an eyebrow.
Married. Never thought I'd see that happen.
It was an arrangement. Convenience. Nothing romantic.
She rested her elbows on the table and propped her chin on her hands, smiling like a curious child.
Is she beautiful?
Discreet. Shy. Almost invisible.
Sophia let out a low laugh.
Ah, Eduardo... You always surround yourself with women who don't dare shine brighter than you.
He didn't respond. But the phrase lingered.
And lingered even more when she added:
You know... when I chose my career, it wasn't against you. It was for myself.
I know — he replied, coldly.
But maybe... there's still room for something between us.
He looked at her, serious.
You want back what you let go?
She didn't answer. She just smiled.
But Eduardo, though tempted by the familiar magnetism, felt something strange. There was something about Sophia—a sweetness too rehearsed, a perfume too sweet, an elegance too practiced.
Nothing was genuine.
And that bothered him.
------
On the other side of the city, Elisa was in her room, reviewing her neurology notes while a new score was taking shape in her mind. The phone rang: it was the conservatory's conductor.
Clara Vianna... your composition is getting word-of-mouth attention. We want to include it in the special series of contemporary composers. Do you authorize it?
She smiled, moved.
Yes, of course. It's an honor.
She hung up.
She took a deep breath.
And smiled to herself.
In her silent life, away from the spotlight and far from the love she didn't have, she was growing.
And he... had no idea.
------
Eduardo left the bar after midnight. Sophia kissed his cheek before he got into the car.
Think about it fondly — she whispered.
He nodded, but didn't respond.
In the car, the driver asked:
Mr. Eduardo, would you like to go straight home?
Yes.
And, for the first time in a long time, Eduardo Castro looked out the window, but wasn't thinking about business. Nor about Sophia.
He thought about the melody he'd heard that morning.
About the calmness it provoked.
About the subtle beauty.
About the pain embedded in every note.
And he couldn't explain it... but he wanted to hear it again.
So, everyone, what do you think of Elisa & Eduardo's story? This is my first book, I'd like your opinion. There will still be many changes. Keep following and leave your comment.