Carmela was preoccupied with scribbling on her pocket notebook when the waitress approached her with a tray from behind. The young service staff noticed the cabbage patch of crumpled paper on the table. She thought it was silly since the customer also had her electronic notebook on the table.

"Hey Miss, here are your orders: a deluxe chicken avocado and cranberry sandwich, oatmeal with a side of eggs and berries, and a cup of coffee with some oat milk."

"Thank you very much—Oh, geez, sorry!" Carmela's beaming smile quickly turned to embarrassment.

"Give me a while to clear this up," she frantically stuffed all the paper balls inside her tote bag. Her hand accidentally hit the edge of her electronic device, causing it to slide off the table and hit the waitress's toes.

The waitress yelped from the pain but did her best not to cause the tray's contents to topple over.

A few other customers glanced at them. Carmela buried her eyes in the palms of her hands in shame. "I am very sorry, Sis. I really am."

She looked up at the young waitress, who held a gold-standard service smile. The server's eyes showed a gargantuan effort to hold back her irritation. The young lady bent down to pick up the notebook that had fallen.

Good. No cracks on the screen.

"It's okay, Miss. It was an accident." Her response was brief and polite. She moved away as soon as she placed all the plates on the table.

Carmela wanted to shrink away and get sucked inside the cushions. It was only around nine in the morning, and she had already ruined someone else's day.

"I saw all of that," Carmela flinched at the familiar voice jeering her. 

"That was marvellous, Mela. You truly are a hazard to everyone within close proximity of you." She heard the cushion deflate as he scooted into the seat opposite her.

The man wore an unironed navy blue T-shirt, bleached jeans, and steel-toed work boots. He was the antithesis of her father, with rakish looks and an unpolished confidence. Despite that, the man was as reliable as Nathaniel. " Good morning, dear."

"Good morning, Edward." Carmela's eyes shied away as she greeted him back with a pout.

Edward wasn't someone who would miss on adding insult to injury. Her fiancé would have been too perfect if he wasn't sometimes annoying.

"How was your night shift? Oh, wait. I'm the one who just finished the night shift and am still doing quite well in avoiding accidents. Hehe."

"Shut up," Carmela said as she dug into her bowl of oatmeal. She was a sucker for his rugged 5 o'clock shadow, but it was still not enough to excuse his cheekiness.

"Eat your stupid sandwich. After that, I'll take you home, do the laundry, and visit my dad."

Her fiancé bowed his head, "Thank you for the food and for fetching me from work, Mela."

Carmela nasally exhaled at his expression of gratitude. His words were toying with her after all.

"What were you working on? You looked very engrossed. You didn't even notice me walk past you by the window. I usually glitter in the sun, you know?"

Carmela opened her mouth before pausing. She wanted to spill her thoughts out to someone, but Edward wasn't always the top candidate for a confidant. She twirled her oatmeal with a spoon before shooting Edward with the same penetrating gaze her mother had.

"Are you sure you want to know about it? I mean, you're tired. It's a heavy topic and-" The woman's roasted eyes crackled before narrowing, "I will get mad if you joke about it."

"I consider myself warned." Edward bit a healthy chunk off of the sandwich. "I wouldn't be able to sleep if I knew something was bothering you anyway."

"If you talk, I'll leave a bigger tip to the waitress for the inconvenience you caused."

"Tch, you're so annoying."

Edward had just finished licking the sandwich dressing from his finger when Carmela started opening up, " I'm writing down my feelings because I feel like I'm grieving about my dad's death while he's still alive."

Edward stopped mid-bite and raised his hand to get the waitress's attention. He subtly gestured that he wanted coffee by pointing towards Carmela's cup.

"Edward," Carmela's eyes started to puff up. "It feels weird. I feel sad and afraid about losing him."

There were many times that Edward would have had a better time with Carmela if he kept his mouth shut. This was probably one of those times.

"Mela, dear." He took a swig of coffee. "I'm listening. Just go ahead."

Carmela looked down at her bowl of oatmeal. It contained three roasted almonds. One had sunk to the bottom of the bowl, the other was suspended in her spoon, and the last was beginning to sink.

"I have a lot to complain about my dad, but now-" Carmela shook her head and shrugged. "None of that matters anymore."

"We didn't have much when I was young, so I didn't ask for many things. Still, Dad bought me everything I asked for and even more. I didn't have the best clothes or those cool magic pencils back in the day, but I never felt cold, hungry, or scared."

"Rainy days were fun! We would walk in the rain in matching ponchos. He'd carry me whenever there was a puddle on the sidewalk."

"He always drove me to school and kissed me on the cheek before I took off. He'd never forget to kiss me goodnight. He made me feel giddy. When I was thirteen, I got upset because he stopped kissing me goodnight, so I confronted him. He said that I wasn't a little girl anymore."

A faint, barely perceptible smile formed on Carmela's lips, "I corrected him. I told him that I'll always be his little girl."

"My dad was very clever. We always had brownies or ice cream after violin lessons. It made violin classes something to look forward to."

"During my rebellious phase, I wanted to stop playing the violin. Everyone was learning the electric guitar or the drums, which made the violin look lame. I told him that."

"I could tell that Dad was hurt by what I said. But he just said, 'Any instrument is fine because music will speak for you when you are at a loss for words."

"Edward," Carmela mumbled. "I don't think I will ever move on when my dad dies. I'm scared because I've never imagined a world without him."

"My mother passed away in her sleep. Dad and Mom were back from their usual walk. I remember that I was studying for an exam. It was 'Workplace Law', 'Workforce management', and some other thing."

"They would usually take turns showering before resting together in the front yard. Mom first sat on the lawn chair that day, so I prepared chai for her. When I got there, she looked asleep, so I placed her teacup on the table. I didn't know that she had passed. I only knew when I heard my dad crying."

"That's when I saw it. I remember shutting myself out from the world while I was grieving. I thought Dad had lost it. Mom was such a big part of our lives I thought losing Mom broke him. Instead, he played. He played all of Mom's favourite pieces. He played all our duets. He played their wedding song. He even played Mom's ringtone when we spread her ashes by the beach."

"When I was grieving over Mom, it felt like I was an empty person. Dad's music made me realize that I was wrong. I wasn't in an empty space; I was drowning in this maelstrom of emotions that wrung me out of words."

"Dad took those emotions, arranged them neatly in a five-lined staff, and allowed them to be heard. His music saved us. It helped with our healing."

Thanks to the flow of customers, the cafe's doorbell rang endlessly. Despite the sound of tinkling coffee cups, incessant chattering, and the off-beat dings of the cash register, Edward could hear his breathing. Carmela had locked both of them in a bubble that muffled everything else.

"When Dad dies, who will I be? I've always been a daddy's girl. How do I move on? Mom's no longer around. I mean, I get it. Everyone dies. A part of me wants his suffering to end. I'd be lying if I said that I enjoy seeing him being stuffed with all that chemo just so he can stay a bit longer. It stinks that I have to watch him fade away. I want to play more duets with him, but he can't anymore. I feel so distressed. I sometimes cry when I see him-"

Her words overflowed as if they breached the floodgate.

"Who says you have to move on when he dies?" Edward's casual comment broke the surface tension of Carmela's gloomy bubble. He wiped his mouth with a napkin after chewing on the rubbery piece of chicken.

"What?" Carmela was torn between squinting her eyes out of inquiry or furrowing her brows out of anger.

"Why do you have to move on when your father dies?" He repeated himself. "How do I describe it? Hmmm."

Edward turned to face his belle, "You know how you have that sheet music stand whenever you play a duet with him? "

"Uh huh?" Carmela titled her head.

"Well, when you play a duet with your dad, both of you play your own parts. When you play all the notes, you turn the page."

"Yes, that's how it usually goes. What's your point?"

"It just so happens that the next page is your solo piece, and your dad steps out and becomes part of the audience. You continue playing."

"You don't move on; you move forward. It's the same sheet music, just on another page. "

Suddenly, Carmela found herself blinking back her tears as she tried to maintain herself. She failed.

"But what if I want to keep replaying the previous pages?" Carmela's voice was breaking. She clung to his sleeve and began to tremble.

"That's fine, of course. No one can tell you to create an arrangement from your composition for their comfort." Edward kissed the top of her head and rubbed her shoulders. "You can keep replaying the previous pages, but your father would ultimately want you to move forward and finish your concerto."

The woman felt reassured of her choice of partner. Edward was not well-versed in music, but he made an effort to be curious about her interests. He dabbled with the guitar but didn't like being on stage.

Carmela squeaked in a giggle, "I thought it was a duet. How did it suddenly become a concerto?"

"Because I'm part of your accompanying orchestra, Mela." That was smooth. Carmela felt her cheeks flush.

"I'm the angel with the harp."

"Eww. Gross. Disgusting."

He got her to smile.

"You won't be alone moving forward. Your friends and I will help you play out your interpretation of the emotions, knowledge, message, and wisdom of the musical composition you started with your father."

Carmela pecked him on the chin after a few sniffles. "You know why I love you?"

"There would be many reasons for that. I am quite loveable."

"Because you know how to make me giddy. Like my dad."

"I honestly don't know what to feel about that." That part of Carmela always made him cringe. But it came with the package, so he guessed it couldn't be helped.

"I'm not your father. But I can certainly be your daddy. Owww~"

Carmela pinched his thigh while she blushed in disbelief.

"Did you actually say that? That's so..." She covered her mouth with both hands. Her eyes surveyed her surroundings to check if anyone else was listening.

"That was actually so good. I love it!"