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As the lyrics flooded into my ears, I lost myself in the beauty of the voice. The perfect manly voice wrapped around me, caressing me, tingling my nerves. The romance and the feel of those words were heavenly.

On stage was Ed Sheeran in a black hip-hop tee and casual jeans with black-rimmed glasses and he was performing against a shimmering midnight blue background.

The dimly lit halls and the stage, cast eerie shadows of human silhouettes, swaying to the beat of the music.

Overall the atmosphere was intoxicating.

I wanted to drown myself in that bliss before I had to leave it all and go away.

“I love this man and the tune,” I said out loud.

I looked up, surprised to find a young man, staring at me, his vibrant cobalt eyes glittering and the prominent lines on his handsome face accentuated by the shadows.

“Music is the surest way to a woman’s heart,” he commented, utterly disinterested.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized, “I didn’t mean to say anything to you. It's absolutely my fault.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes, “Nobody in this damned world says anything to me. I should have known it.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean that, it’s just…”

I was at loss to know how to explain that to him. With all the problems in my life, a pessimist like myself was the last person I ever wanted to meet on that fateful evening.

“Well, doesn’t matter. I love music. It has healing power. It has the ability to take people out of themselves for a few hours. And I actually need that distraction now, to keep me engaged so that I don’t think about my screwed up life,” his eyes glazed over.

“I’m so sorry,” was what I could say. I have never seen a completely random stranger sharing his feeling with me.
His words actually reminded me of my own life, its complications.
I choked as memories flooded me...

“What the heck does this mean? You couldn’t clear the entrance, you didn’t study due to your practices, you just whiled away your time behind the useless thing called music and now what exactly do you plan to do with your life?” my father shouted.

I saw my younger cousins, standing and watching in glee.

Instinctively my hands went to my pocket where I had kept the tickets for Ed Sheeran live that evening. I gripped it tightly, trying to find words.

I lowered my eyes in shame, “Daddy, I want to make a career in music.”

“Music, Huh!” he gave a mocking smile, “Pray tell me, have you won a competition ever? You don’t have that innate talent and now you’ve wasted your life in the fruitless pursuits of music. So what next?”

“I don’t know,” I muttered.

My cousins snickered.

“Then get lost and don’t show me your face till you do something useful with your life. I’m ashamed to even call you my daughter. No music from today,’ he commented, his face red.

“But I love music, I love playing the guitar,” I protested meekly, trying desperately to search for any help.

He simply got up from his seat and took up my guitar lying nearby. Before I could stop him, he threw that against the wall. The fragile strings snapped and the guitar was damaged beyond repair.

“I had bought it with my own money,” I burst into tears, shocked.

“That will stop your music from flowing,” he turned a deaf ear to my pleas.

My cousins whispered and pointed, mouthing bad slangs. I had become an object of ridicule. My face was red with shame. I wanted to mix to the ground, then and there.

Taking away music was a greater insult than anything.

Frustrated, mocked and insulted, my heart breaking, I stormed out of the house, vowing never to return.

I still had the ticket in my hand.
I entered the general store and picked up a blade, a paper and a pen. I took one last look at the ticket, and handed it to the guard on duty, ushering myself in.

“Anyway, why do you love music?” he turned to me, breaking my reverie.

“Because music is the only thing that stays when everything and everyone is gone. It’s a piece of art that goes in the ears, straight to the heart,” I replied, not meeting his eyes.

“That’s interesting,” he said, his eyes sad and lonely, “Music unwraps the heart, sings out the prayer, dances the spirit and opens the soul. I’m going to miss these wonderful experienceṣ”

“But why?” I asked.

“Who’s you favourite singer,” he deftly changed the topic to avoid answering.

“Him,” I said pointing to the stage, where Ed was now into Shape of You.

“Oh! I should have known,” he said, shaking his head comically.

In spite of myself, I couldn’t help smiling. There was a certain bit of charm in the man, which I had never seen earlier. I had always avoided interacting with men more than necessary, but the man with crisp brown hair and a sad yet alluring smile, had captured my heart.

Too bad I would have to ultimately leave and go away, forever.

I felt for the blade in my pocket, and for the first time, I found myself reconsidering my decision.

Was I right? Was the world really an illusion and music a sham? Or was it that we perceived it differently from the rest of the world, maybe we were special.

I felt like sharing that with him.
His eyes lit up just for a moment, followed by his sinking into the eternal depression again.

“If you don’t mind,” I said slowly, “Could you please tell me the thing that’s troubling you? I know that I’m a stranger but I guess speaking out would help you better.”

He looked at me with a strange look, as if he was looking at me for the first time.

He bit his lips, shook his head and finally said, “My girlfriend succumbed to cancer and she was only twenty.”

I froze.

An uncomfortable silence followed. I saw tears glistening in his eyes.

I longed to reach out, to touch his hand and soothe him, but I wasn’t sure if he would be receptive to that touch, or if he would like it. So I kept quiet, even as a few drops of tears rolled down, before he fiercely fought then back.

Finally he turned to me, his liquid blue eyes boring into me, trying to touch the softest core of my heart, “She never told me that she had cancer. It was almost as if she cheated me. I don’t want to go on living after she’s no more.”

His thoughts were going dangerously to suicidal ways. I knew in my heart that I had to do something. That was a turning point and I needed to counsel him.

“She’s no more, but her thoughts are kept alive in you. She will go on living even after death, as long as you exist. If you choose to commit a sin and take away your own life, then everything will be lost,” I spoke my heart out.

My hands gripped a paper in my pocket as it crumpled under the force.

His face was a blank mask.
I took his hand in mine. Nobody in the concert was even interested to look at us.

His face turned to surprise.

“You have to find a new meaning. Life can’t stop, your heart has to go on,” I said.

“Come on,” he protested, “Aren’t you frustrated too? It happens. As much as you try to explain to yourself, somewhere in a corner of your mind you feel guilty. Maybe you could have changed destinies if you had tried.”

“Mine is for a different cause,” I sighed, spilling out everything to him.

He grabbed my shoulders and shook me hard, “Are you crazy? If your passion is music just go ahead with it. Remember that there’s a difference only you make. Try to find hope in every step that you take.”

“Stop lecturing me on what to do and what not to do,” I snapped, forgetting that I had done it earlier, “My life is such a mess, I don’t know what my feelings are anymore and you come to give philosophical talks. I hate you, I hate life, I hate my family, I hate music and…”

My angry blabbering stopped midway when he grabbed my face and his lips crashed into mine fiercely.

I was shocked, and broke the kiss immediately.

“What was that?” I gasped for breath, as my heart raced.

“The best way to stop nonsensical words is to kiss a woman,” he commented, an amused expression on his face.

“Damned boy, who are you to change my life?” I shouted indignantly.

By this time, people were giving us murderous glares.

“I’m the manager of a reality show catering to the needs of budding musicians like you,” he replied.

I couldn’t believe my ears. The man standing right before me, whom I had taunted no ends, was none other than the savior I had always needed to help realise my dreams.

“B…But w..why would you help me?” I asked the most vital question.

“Because you saved my life. This would have been my last concert had it not been for you,” he took out a small paper packet and handed it to me.

“P…Potassium, c…cyan…nide?” I stammered.

“I was going to go kill myself today. Your words forced me to think clearly again, ruining all my courage to commit suicide. I’m just a death fearing normal person now. Your words have meaning, have gravity,” he said moving closer.

I gave a dry smile. My heart was melting too, though I knew that the challenges ahead were definitely tough.

“You’re smiling? How can you?” he sounded angry.

“I’m sorry,” I replied, my smile turning darker every moment, “See this.”

I took out the crumpled piece of paper, straightened it out, handing it over to him.

He took it and read it, his eyes widening till he suddenly looked at me, looked at the paper, and looked again at me confused.

“Yes, this is my suicide note,” I said, showing him the blade.

“Never,” his eyes were fierce as he tore the paper, caught my waist, drawing me closer, “Promise me that you won’t think of such things again.”

“The world is better off without a failure like me,” I replied.

“You live for me, for music and you live because the world needs your kind soul,” he said, still holding on to me.

The warmth of his body made me feel all cozy and comfortable. It was as if I had known him for ages, when it had been only few hours.

I relaxed my tense posture, melting into his chest. I felt like crying.

I buried my face in his chest as tears broke free.

He wrapped his arms around my shaking body, with none of us speaking for a while.

Finally he cupped my face with his hands, his cobalt eyes seeking permission.

“I don’t know you. I can’t. We shouldn’t,” I objected.

“I’m Clarence Bartlett, manager and CEO of Magical Playlist, the company which helps musicians get noted and I know you, even if you don’t,” he said with an air of royalty, “So I definitely have every right to be with you.”

He had changed considerably. There was no trace of any guilt in him anymore.

“Melody Lytton,” I smiled at the joke, “Nice to meet you.”

Only his lips moved in response. My soft ones being devoured by his warm, hungry lips.

“I guess we’ve both got a new chance at life. Let’s not waste it,” I said, snuggling closer.

“True,” he said, giving a surprisingly gentle train of kisses down my neck.

I shivered, melting further into him as that perfect moment of musical bliss unfolded.

2000 words completed

A/N written for the #romancemusicfestival contest by Romance

Dedicated to KashishBelikov for being the best friend ever❤️❤️

Thanks Pipigrin for reading and supporting....