Emma's POV
The Blue Note was alive with the buzz of expectation, that kind that thrummed just under the surface, electric and impossible to shake. I was seated at a tiny table close to the front, my fingers drumming a nervous path along the edge of my scarf as I attempted to become part of the crowd. The atmosphere was a class above that of the cozy Hometown Café—warm lighting, a stage aglow with golden spotlights, and a mix of tourists and locals sipping cups and huddling in anticipation. I was not used to going to places like this, where the air hummed with possibility, but I was here tonight for Alex.
I glanced around, taking in the scene. Couples leaned close, sharing quiet laughter, while groups of friends clinked glasses, their voices rising and falling like a melody. On stage, a lone microphone stood waiting, and I felt a flutter of nerves in my stomach. Alex was about to perform, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something important was about to happen.
The lights dimmed further and the crowd hushed as Alex stepped onto the stage, guitar in hand. Here, he was very different from when he was being merely courtly towards his mother: more confident, more alive as though the spotlight was where he belonged. His dark hair fell into his eyes, and he gave the audience a small, easy smile that made my heart skip. When his eyes locked onto mine, lingering there a bit too long, the chill that was settling into my bones melted away with the warmth that started rushing through me.
"Thanks for coming out tonight," Alex said in a calm, warm voice. "I've got a few songs for you, including a new one I wrote recently. Hope you enjoy it.
He plucked the first chord, and the room waited with bated breath. The song was gentle, ethereal, and when he started singing, I felt that the words were encircling me, drawing me into his realm. His voice was deep, filled with feeling, and I couldn't look away.
And then, mid-set, he stopped, his fingers freezing on the strings. "This next one's special," he told me, his eyes meeting mine. "It's called 'For the Girl in Blue.'"
My heart skipped a beat. The crowd was murmuring, but all I heard was the thud of my heart. He was singing for me—*to* me—and in that instant, we were alone in the world.
The song was beautiful, a ballad about fleeting moments and the quiet courage of living in the now. Each word felt like a brushstroke on a canvas, painting a picture of a love that defied time. I could feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes, and I blinked them back, not wanting to miss a single note.
As Alex sang, my mind drifted to the doctor's office, to the cold, clinical words that had sealed my fate. Terminal. Limited time. The contrast was almost unbearable—the warmth of this moment against the cold reality waiting for me. I wanted to lose myself in the music, in the way Alex's voice seemed to promise something more, but the shadow of my illness loomed too large.
Still, for those few minutes, I let myself imagine a different life—one where I wasn't counting the days, where I could be with Alex, free and unafraid. The thought was intoxicating, dangerous even, but I couldn't help it. He made me want to believe in second chances, in dreams that didn't have expiration dates.
The last note hounded the air, and people applaud, but that was beyond my time to hear. Here were Alex's eyes stuck on me, with a question hanging within those stare-filled orbs. He took off from that dais, blindly dodging by to get to my side, with a soft, almost vulnerable look on his face.
"What did you think?" he asked, his voice low, like he was afraid of breaking the spell.
I swallowed, my throat tight. "It was… incredible, Alex. I don't even have words."
He smiled, a little shy now, and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm glad you liked it. I wasn't sure if it was too much."
I shook my head, my heart aching with the weight of everything I couldn't say. "No, it was perfect. Thank you."
We stood there for a moment, the noise of the venue fading into the background. Then, almost without thinking, I reached out and touched his arm, a small gesture of connection. His skin was warm under my fingers, and I felt a jolt of something—hope, maybe, or something more.
"Want to get some air?" he whispered softly.
I nodded and slipped out of the main room, then caught his glance as we took up a quiet spot near the back of the venue. The air here was cooler, and I leaned back against the wall, forcing my racing heart to slow.
Alex leaned in next to me, his presence anchoring me. "Emma, I…" He paused, trying to find the right words. "I don't know what it is about you, but I keep feeling like we're meant to know each other. Like this—us—isn't a coincidence."
I met his gaze, my breath quickened. "I feel it too," I confessed, my voice shaking. "But… it's complicated."
He stepped closer, his hand brushing mine. "Maybe it doesn't have to be."
For a moment, I let myself believe him. I let myself imagine a world where it was that simple, where I could just lean in and close the distance between us. His face was inches from mine, his breath warm against my skin, and I could feel the pull, the magnetic force drawing us together.
But then the cough came, sharp and sudden, breaking the spell. I turned away, covering my mouth with my scarf, my body shaking with the effort to suppress it. When I looked back, Alex's face was etched with concern.
"Emma, are you sure you're okay?" he asked, his voice gentle but insistent.
I forced a smile, though it felt brittle. "Yeah, just… something in my throat. I'm fine."
He wasn't quite sure, but he didn't press the issue. Instead, he reached out, pushing a strand of loose hair behind my ear. "You don't have to hide from me, you know."
His words knocked me off balance. I had an overwhelming urge to tell him everything—to confess the truth about my disease, my fears, my tentative hope—but I couldn't. Not yet. Not when this was all so new, so fragile.
"I'm not hiding," I lied, my voice so quiet it was nearly gone in the space. "I'm just. figuring things out."
He nodded, his fingers still trailing down my cheek, and backed away. "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."
I smiled at him, thanking him for his patience as guilty feelings gnawed within me. He deserved to know the truth. But I wasn't ready to face it myself—not that night, not when the music still echoed in my ears and his song still lingered in my heart.
As we walked back into the main room, the crowd's cheers fading into the background, I knew that whatever this was between us, it was real. And for now, that was enough.