For a few seconds, he didn’t play.
He looked toward us.
Toward Maya.
Toward Lucas.
Toward the empty seat beside me where Thomas would once have sat.
Then his fingers moved.
The first melody was familiar.
The tune Thomas used to hum while cooking.
But Julian changed it.
He took the simple phrase somewhere Thomas never had.
Higher.
Then quieter.
Then into something I didn’t recognize at all.
It was not a song about his father.
Not entirely.
It belonged to Julian.
That was the point.
When the last note faded, the auditorium remained silent for half a second before applause rose.
Julian smiled.
Not the embarrassed smile of a boy being praised for generosity.
The satisfied smile of a musician who had played exactly what he meant to play.
Afterward, Maya met him beside the stage.
“You messed up the third section.”
Julian stared.
“I did not.”
