Strings And Beats

3. Broken Strings

Chapter 3 - Broken Strings

Lia's POV

The next evening, I reach Studio Two early.
Of course I do.

Being on time is one of the few things I can control. The smell of polished wood and faint dust greets me as I push the door open. Sunlight leaks through the high window, making soft golden patches on the floor.

I set my violin case on the chair and begin to unpack. The quiet is perfect. No teasing. No interruptions.

Until the door swings open.

"Princess," Arjun says, strolling in like he owns the place. His leather jacket smells faintly of smoke and late nights. "You missed me?"

"No." I tighten my bow. "You're late."

"It's called dramatic timing."

I give him a flat look, but my heart is already beating faster.

He drops his guitar case and stretches, his black hair falling into his eyes. "So, Professor Rao wants us ready for Friday's check in. What's the plan, Captain Precision?"

"Practice," I say simply.

He grins. "Dangerous. You might turn me into a responsible musician."

I ignore him and start tuning. Each note is a small anchor in the storm of his presence.

But then he pulls out his phone, and I freeze.
The same phone from yesterday.
The one with my name on it.

He catches me watching and quickly slips it into his jacket pocket.

I raise an eyebrow. "Another secret fan message?"

"Something like that," he says lightly, but his eyes flick away too fast.

My fingers pause on the strings.
Why does it feel like that phone holds something bigger than a fan text?

Before I can ask, he strums a bright chord. "Come on, princess. Let's see if we can actually sound like a team today."

I lift my violin. "Only if you can stay in key."

"Where's the fun in that?"

Despite my annoyance, a small smile tugs at my mouth. He notices, of course. His grin widens.

We begin.
The first few bars are rough his guitar too bold, my bow too sharp. But slowly, the sound starts to blend. My careful notes meet his wild chords, twisting together until something new forms.

I let my eyes close for a second. The music hums through my bones, warm and alive.

When the last note fades, I open my eyes and find him staring.

"What?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Nothing," he says, but he doesn't look away. "You just... lose the armor when you play."

The words hit harder than I expect. Armor.
Is that what he sees when he looks at me?

I lower my violin. "Music is serious to me."

"I can tell," he says softly. "But it's supposed to set you free, not trap you."

Something in his voice makes my chest tighten. For a moment, I almost ask what he means. But then his phone buzzes, breaking the spell.

He glances at the screen, and the easy smile vanishes.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Nothing," he says too quickly. He shoves the phone back into his pocket and starts packing his guitar like he's suddenly in a hurry.