Between The Notes

Five: A Lesson in Distance

The night air was sharp against my skin as I walked away from Seraphina's house, my footsteps too loud against the quiet street. My heart still pounded in my chest, my lips still tingling from the kiss I hadn't expected but had wanted more than anything.

And then—leave.

The word replayed over and over in my mind, each time sinking deeper into my chest, anchoring itself like a weight I couldn't shake.

She had yelled at me.

Seraphina, who was always composed, always in control, had broken—because of me.

By the time I reached my car, my hands were shaking. I fumbled for my keys, taking uneven breaths as I forced myself to keep it together. My fingers brushed against my phone, and before I could stop myself, I had unlocked it, scrolling through my messages.

There it was.

The last text I had sent her after the hospital.

I'll be here when you're ready to talk, whenever you need me.

I almost laughed.

How naive I had been. How stupid.

Seraphina didn't want me to be there for her. She didn't want me at all.

My mother had been right.

Be careful who you give your heart to, Celeste. Not everyone is meant to hold it.

I had rolled my eyes when she said it, too caught up in my own idealism, too convinced that love was something that could be untangled, figured out.

But this?

This was what she had warned me about.

I sat in my car for a long time before I finally turned the engine on and drove home, trying to shake the feeling that something inside me had changed forever.

⸻

I didn't sleep that night.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her. The way her lips had felt against mine, the way she had looked at me—like she was terrified of what she had done.

Like she regretted it.

By the time morning came, exhaustion clung to me like a second skin, but I forced myself to move. If I stayed in bed, if I let myself sit with this feeling for too long, it would consume me.

So, I got up. I went about my day. And when the time came for my next lesson, I made a decision.

I wasn't going to let this ruin me.

More importantly, I wasn't going to let her ruin me.

I had given too much of myself already.

It was time to take something back.

⸻

When I arrived at Seraphina's house, it felt different.

Not because anything had changed—everything was still perfectly in place, the grand piano sitting in its usual spot, the scent of caramel and old books lingering in the air.

No, it wasn't the house that had changed.

It was me.

I wasn't the girl who had kissed her teacher. I wasn't the girl who had stood there, waiting, hoping for her to take it back.

I was her student.

That was all.

Seraphina was already sitting at the piano when I entered, her fingers resting lightly on the keys. Her posture was perfect, as always, but there was something stiff about the way she held herself—something hesitant.

She didn't look at me when she spoke.

"You're on time," she said, her voice neutral, detached.

I set my music down and took my seat beside her. "Of course. We have a lesson."

A pause.

Her hands twitched, barely noticeable, before she straightened her shoulders. "Yes," she said quietly. "We do."

And just like that, we began.

I played the assigned piece, my fingers gliding over the keys with precision. I didn't stumble. I didn't hesitate. I kept my focus on the music, on the mechanics of it, on the way the notes filled the space between us.

Seraphina listened in silence, her hands folded neatly in her lap. When I finished, she gave a small nod.

"Well played."

I waited for her to say something else—to correct my technique, to tell me where I needed to improve.

But she didn't.

For the first time, there was no sharp critique, no cutting remark meant to push me further.

She was holding back.

And I hated it.

I forced a polite smile. "Thank you."

Another pause.

She inhaled sharply, as if she wanted to say something, but instead, she turned her attention to the sheet music. "Let's move on."

And we did.

The entire lesson passed in quiet professionalism.

I played. She instructed.

And that was it.

No lingering glances. No accidental touches. No tension crackling between us like it had before.

I kept my distance, and she let me.

But even as I maintained the façade, even as I forced myself to pretend that nothing had happened, I could feel it beneath my skin—the memory of her touch, of her lips on mine.

Every stolen glance. Every hesitation in her voice.

I remembered everything.

And it hurt.

By the time the lesson ended, I was exhausted. Not physically, but emotionally.

Holding myself together like this—pretending—was harder than I had expected.

Seraphina stood as I gathered my things, her fingers brushing against the edge of the piano before she pulled them back.

"Same time next week?" she asked, her voice carefully measured.

I nodded. "Of course."

I turned to leave, but before I reached the door, she spoke again.

"Celeste."

I froze.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then, slowly, I turned back to her. "Yes?"

Her expression was unreadable, her lips parted like she wanted to say something—needed to say something.

But then, just as quickly, she closed her mouth, pressing her lips into a thin line.

"Never mind," she said, looking away.

I didn't push.

I simply nodded and walked out the door, letting it close softly behind me.

And as I stepped out into the evening air, I told myself that I was fine.

That this was the right decision.

That I could keep this professional, that I could pretend like nothing had happened.

But deep down, in the part of me I was trying so hard to silence, I knew the truth.

I wasn't fine.

And no matter how much I tried to forget, no matter how hard I tried to pretend...

I would always remember.