Isai

Symphony of Heart

Long chapter ahead

Eniyan tapped his foot impatiently, the Chennai heat clinging to him like a second skin. He replayed the day – Isai's laugh echoing off the studio walls like wind chimes, the way her eyes sparkled when their ideas clicked, the lingering warmth of her hand brushing his as they passed a particularly tricky passage. A nervous energy crackled in his stomach, a ridiculous urge to text her something... profound? Romantic? He scoffed at the thought.

He scrolled through his phone, landing on Isai's name. "Isai the Hurricane?" the contact read, a relic from their college days when her violin solos could reduce a room to awed silence (or send confused pigeons fluttering out the window). He snorted, picturing a tiny Isai with a mischievous glint in her eye, wielding a violin like a weapon of mass orchestration.

"Maybe a text," he mumbled, "but what?" "Thanks for the session?" Too dull. "Can't wait for tomorrow?" Too eager. He was a composer, for crying out loud! Shouldn't crafting the perfect message be a breeze? Apparently, expressing his jumbled emotions towards Isai was harder than writing a fugue in five keys.

Minutes bled into an eternity, the only sound the city's low hum punctuated by his frustrated sighs. Finally, with a deep breath, he typed:

"Symphony's got me thinking wild thoughts already. You?"

He reread it like a mantra, wincing each time. Impersonal? Check. Emotionally stunted? Double check. But deleting it felt like trying to rewrite Beethoven's 5th backwards – a fool's errand. With a resigned sigh, he hit send, the phone buzzing faintly in his hand.

Across town, Isai sat on her balcony, bathed in moonlight that cast long, dramatic shadows across her face. The day's work echoed in her head, Eniyan's infectious energy a welcome change from the usual solitary grind of composing. A smile tugged at her lips as she replayed a particularly daring drum loop he'd thrown in – the man had the rhythm of a hummingbird on tequila. But the smile faltered as a memory, unwelcome and persistent, flickered to life.

The memory of a fight, a careless word hurled back and forth, a slammed door that marked the end of a friendship she hadn't realized she cherished until it was gone. The pain, raw even after all these years, threatened to surface. Tears welled up, blurring the city lights below.

Just then, her phone buzzed. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, which left a dramatic streak of mascara across her cheek, she picked it up, her brow furrowing at Eniyan's name. A small jolt went through her as she read the message. Simple, yeah, but it sent a wave of warmth through her. Wild thoughts, huh? That sounded suspiciously like Eniyan code for "creativity's about to explode."

A genuine smile, brighter than the Chennai sunrise, spread across her face. College memories mingled with the excitement of their newfound collaboration. Her fingers flew across the screen, crafting a reply:

"Me too! Can't wait to see what crazy stuff you come up with next ;) "

Adding a winking emoji felt like a tiny rebellion against the weight of the past. A playful jab disguised as a compliment. A secret handshake across the digital divide. She hit send, a nervous flutter in her stomach mirroring Eniyan's anxiety on the other side of town.

As the night deepened, two casual messages hung in the digital air, a bridge between two hearts that had once known each other, were rediscovering each other, and, with a tentative hope, dared to imagine something more.

The following morning, the studio buzzed with a renewed energy that could only be described as creatively caffeinated. Eniyan arrived early, his mind already overflowing with ideas inspired by their late-night text exchange. He set up his makeshift percussion station, a collection of pots, pans, and random metal objects that looked more like a toddler's tantrum than a composer's toolkit. Isai entered moments later, a violin case in hand and a playful glint in her eye that could disarm a marching band.