Ember sat on his bed with an empty glass tumbler between his hands, his bangs fell over his eyes, diminishing the blue in the darkness. Loraine sat beside him as the soft morning sunlight fell over his golden hair. It had rained heavily that night, so the morning was colder than other mornings. Ember had wrapped a silk shawl around his shoulders, Loraine stared at him, 

"We should return to the States and call Elford-"
"No," Ember reacted immediately, "Not yet,"
"What's the problem with that?"
"I do not want to leave India yet," Ember looked at him, "There's so much left to do,"

"What's there in this third world country that is keeping you from leaving?"
Ember smiled and looked down, "People...I like spending time with,"
"Lemme get this straight, we don't have a lot of time, especially now that it's starting to get worse," Loraine grabbed the glass tumbler from him and kept it back on the table.

"And you know those people will abandon you the moment they find out how fucked up you are," He slammed the door, leaving him alone. Ember looked into his phone and saw Rhea's text on his notification bar. He kept his phone aside and tried to get up from his bed. He pressed his hands on the mattress and pushed himself up. He got up on his feet and walked towards the window. 

"Just one more year, please just one more year. I have so much to tell you...Rhea,"

"I had so many ideas," Rhea stood in her balcony while Neel ate some seasoned lentils, "Next time, use a sketchbook. It's good for practice and is handy. You first imitate what you can see in the real world to draw what you see inside of you. That's how art is mastered, learned through imitation but given wings by imagination," Neel preached.

"You mean I should try painting real things first?"
"Yeah, try still life art,"
"Still life?"
"Like painting a vase or flowers,"

While she submerged herself in painting, she learned to cope with Ember's absence. But, every time her mind wandered, it stopped at him. She felt anxious, 

'You disappeared all of a sudden...And I have no way to contact you except this number.
You can leave me anytime, and I would be completely helpless. I kind of wished I hadn't given this power to you.
The power to destroy me.

"I will fight for you,"
"I know you will, Rhea,"
Rhea opened her paint box and looked outside her window. Mrs Laghari knocked on the door "You're not going to school?" She asked.

"No, I don't feel like going," Rhea continued painting.
"Go to school," Her father ordered and she kept the paintbox aside. She splashed some water on her eyes, still thinking about Ember. She felt like a forsaken lover. Even though they never dated, he never said he loved her, she felt abandoned. 

As she paddled her way, the roads seemed particularly dry even though it had rained last night. Where was he? With his other white friends, where he felt much more at home? Or with his family because well, they are his family, his home. Was he eating well? Because he was as thin as a stick. Was he still painting? A month had gone by without any texts or conversations. Everyone around seemed to forget his name as if he was an illusion that never existed. All the memories she had with him, there was no proof of them. Not even a picture. 

She remembered their last conversation under the bridge, where he refused to paddle the bicycle. Was he embarrassed to carry an Indian girl around? Did it hurt his pride? Did she do something wrong? What was it? How could she fix it? She was ready to apologise. Only if he would look at her again. 

She sat in her classroom, looking outside. Nikki came to her, "So, how's Ember?" She asked with an ice cream bar in her hand.
"He's...really good,"
"Cool. Sorry, I couldn't come that day. My aunt came over," 
"Yeah. Could you leave me alone for a bit?"

"What? What happened?"
"Just...Not now, okay?"
"Okay?" She got up and left her alone. She didn't speak at all that day. Because something told her, that if voice left her throat, tears would be hard to hold back. 

In the evening, she sat inside her room with a sketchbook. She looked at her text, it had still not reached him. But he hadn't blocked her, she could still his profile. She looked at the empty pages in front of her, the air growing colder as this month was coming to an end.
'It's so hard, not talking to you,' She stared at the walls, for hours until she fell asleep.

How easy it is for a person to leave while leaving you all broken behind, stumbling over the broken pieces of the dreams and promises that you have hoped for. I wonder whether the one who leaves shares the same pain, wonders the same questions, or do they just forget about everything then and there? 

The clock was pointing at two and Rhea's bed was empty. She stood before her window,
"Where are you? Did you forget me already, Ember?" She whispered, "Was I so easy to forget?"
Why is it that whenever I'm sad, my body suffers physically? I can't sleep, I don't feel hungry and my fingers, it's like the sadness from my heart finds an outlet through my fingertips, they ache too bad.

She soon sat on her bed and drew something inside her notebook. The twilight fell on her notebook from the window, lighting it into a dewy blue, a soft light. She began drawing, "I wonder if you're awake too right now?" She looked at the moon from her window.

Meanwhile, the same soft twilight fell on Ember's silky golden hair as he sat on a bench in his terrace garden, with a guitar on his lap, playing some relaxing freestyle guitar notes and singing a song in the loneliness of the night.

https://youtu.be/wGO6bLDiv0c

Once his fingers began to hurt because of all the guitar string scars, he just hugged his guitar and looked up at the sky, the stars from so high above, the moon.
"Mom!" He shouted at the stars, "Have you ever had the biggest crush on someone, so strong that just their existence alone is lovely?" He looked at the moon, "I have this urge to tell her how I feel mainly in hope that she'll feel the same too...

She probably doesn't.
And maybe it won't out either,"

"But seeing if it does will be the best adventure ever," He heard Maple's voice and turned back.
"Dating advice from mom, huh?" Loraine stood at the door and Ember blushed.
"What are you doing here?!"
"I'm here too!" Maple held a plate of cutlet and cabbage, "You skipped dinner, we were worried,"

"You can't take your medication empty stomach," Loraine held his pills.
"I'm fine now, see?" Ember jumped up, "My legs have never felt before!"
"Yes, and to continue being fine, you have to take your medicine regularly,"
"Aw, man!"

They sat on the bench, next to each other and looked at the moon before them, shining like a pearl in the Mulberry silk sky, "Look," Ember pointed at the brightest star, "That is mom, and that one is Loraine, and that is Maple, and that is me on its right,"
"We make a constellation,"
"What's it called?" Maple asked.

"I don't know. Astronomy has never been my strength in particular,"
"By the way, bror, I love your guitar skills. Teach me too, I have brown girls to impress," Maple wrapped his arm around Ember's neck.
"Well," Ember looked at Loraine, "Pianists get more girls than guitarists, don't they?"

"I really," Loraine looked at the silver string hung around Ember's neck, "Don't find it appealing to answer,"

After putting Ember to bed, Loraine walked into the halls and stood before an old door. He inserted a key into the keyhole and opened the door, brushing off the dust that fell from overhead. There was a huge figure kept at the centre of the room. It was covered with a white cloth. He stood before it as the window behind the figure shone bright with moonlight. 

His green eyes lit up and he moved his hands towards the cloth. He lifted the cloth and threw it away. It was a grand piano, broken and abandoned, put together with nails and glue. It was yellow with dust. He touched the piano. The liability that had been thrown from the balcony many years ago. How everyone hated it but he alone decided to preserve it.

Loraine pressed his hands on the broken keys and remembered the woman who taught him to play it.

-To be continued 

Can't I Touch Your Heart?
Teach Me The Art of Living