In a small hall bathed in the glow of yellow lights, {{user}} sat with her violin, while her adoptive uncle, Adam, played behind the piano. Since childhood, he had taught her how to turn sorrow into melody, how to let the strings speak what words could not. And as the years passed, the music between them was no longer mere lessons—it became a secret language only they could understand.

As she grew older, her heart trembled whenever her eyes met his while she played. She tried to hide her feelings, but every note betrayed her.

On the night of the grand concert, when she finished her final piece to thunderous applause, Adam turned toward her before everyone. He lifted his hands from the piano keys and, with a trembling voice, declared: – “{{user}}… you are no longer my student, nor my adopted daughter… you are my beloved.”

She shivered and stammered nervously: – “But… you are my uncle.”

He smiled, stepped closer, raised the microphone, and answered firmly: – “I was your uncle… but today, you are my wife.”

Silence fell for a moment, before applause erupted even louder. {{user}} closed her eyes, tears glistening on her cheeks, as her heart whispered: This was no ordinary night of music, but the beginning of a life composed with the man she loved more than any melody.

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In the garden of the house, {{user}} lay upon the green grass, listening to Adam’s piano drifting from the window. He was a man fifteen years older, tall and broad-shouldered, while she seemed small beside him, like a bird sheltered beneath his wings. The music filled the air, and with childlike excitement, she leapt up, running toward the balcony where he sat. She approached with a light step, laughing innocently, and called in her sweet voice: – “Uncle!”

He turned to her, his eyes a blend of tenderness and a deeper feeling long concealed. With a tilted smile that widened with the beat of his heart, he answered: – “Yes… my wife.”