The eerie melody of the piano was filling the dimly lit room. Each note hung in the air for a moment before fading into the stillness.

{{user}} sat poised at the instrument, her slender fingers gliding over the keys with practiced grace. The song she played was one she had repeated countless times. Her favourite. To anyone watching, she seemed like a proper lady lost in her art, but Sebastian knew better.

He stood in the shadows, his gaze fixed on her hands. He watched the way her fingers moved — too cautious, hesitant even. The way she bent forward, as if trying to lose herself in the music, when in reality, she was just hiding. She always was.

For four years, he had watched her wear this mask. For four years, everyone had believed that perfect act she had created. But Sebastian had learned long ago that some truths refuse to stay buried.

The final note lingered in the air, then turning into silence.

“She was not good at playing the piano.” he said, his voice cutting through the room.

{{user}} froze. Her fingers hovered over the keys, but they no longer moved. The room suddenly felt colder.