CHAPTER 43: CHAPTER 43: IT SOUNDS BETTER LIKE THIS.

The door shut behind her with a soft click, and silence swallowed her whole. The silence wasn’t peaceful. It clung to Athena’s skin like stain, a strange heaviness that refused to shake off. Her shoes echoed down the hall as she walked, no real destination in mind, only the flood of her thoughts pulling her forward.

Visibility is both a gift and a curse.

His words rang in her head, stubborn and sticky, the kind of line meant to sound wise but instead felt like a warning, it sounded creepy, especially from the mouth it came out from. A man like Mr. Meadow didn’t just say things by accident. There had been something in the way he looked at her, too long, too sharp, like he could stripe her open with nothing more than a glance. And when his fingers brushed her hair earlier in class... her stomach had clenched, not from flattery, but from something darker.

She shivered at the memory, her lips pressing into a thin line.

No. She wasn’t going to let that man crawl into her headspace. She wasn’t going to be like the other girls who whispered, giggled, and then went silent when his name came up. If he ever crossed a line with her, she’d make damn sure he regretted it.

Her stride quickened, shoulders tightening with resolve.

And then, of course, Theodore’s face flashed across her mind, that cocky grin and the way he carried himself, it all felt like an itch she couldn’t scratch off.

God, him. If Mr. Meadow was sharp like glass, Theodore was rough like sandpaper, grating every last nerve she had. That smug bastard, barging into her space, answering questions that weren’t his to answer, smirking like he owned the room. And then today, standing up to Meadow like some arrogant hero, like she needed his saving.

Athena scoffed aloud, the sound echoing faintly in the empty corridor.

Hero? Please. She wanted to roll her eyes at the thought.

Theodore didn’t care about her. He didn’t even like her. He just wanted to push buttons, to play games, to show the entire class that he could cross anyone, even a teacher. And somehow, she had ended up stuck in the middle, with all those eyes on her, like she was the prize being fought over.

The thought made her stomach turn.

She hated him for it, hated the way he leaned too close, the way his cologne burned into her lungs, the way his stupid grin made her chest tighten when it damn well shouldn’t.

Her hand curled into a fist at her side. Theodore was like a devil wrapped in a perfect face, and she refused to get tangled in it.

Still... her heart had skipped when he stood. Just once. Just for a second. Because underneath all that cocky nonsense, the way he stared down Meadow had been... terrifying. Convincing. Like a wolf ready to tear the throat out of anyone stupid enough to cross him.

And that was what unsettled her most. Because a tiny, shameful part of her had liked it.

Athena dragged in a sharp breath, trying to shove the thought away, but her feet carried her further down the hall, her mind replaying every second, every stare, every stupid, crooked grin.

She stopped.

Blinking, she looked up. Her gaze landed on a door she recognized immediately, the music room.

The room, the memories of it was something she could never forget. It was the first time she came across him, Siren, that’s what people call him, but she preferred calling him azrael.

His face was like no other, his eye lashes, long and thick enough to make her fly away if he blinked to hard. Then his eyes, that deep ocean eyes that could stop a storm, just like hers. Then his lips, full enough for the best kiss.

Not that she planned on kissing him though.

She hadn’t planned on coming here but for some reason, here she was again, standing before it. She couldn’t help the smile that formed on her lips as her fingers hovered over the handle.

The hinges creaked softly as Athena pushed the door open, the faint sound swallowed by the vast emptiness of the music room. The space was still, unnervingly so, and for a moment she wondered if she had made a mistake coming here. No voices. No faint hum of a string being tuned. Not even the low ripple of piano keys drifting through the air as she had heard the other day.

Her footsteps carried her further inside, slow and deliberate, the soles of her shoes tapping lightly against the polished wooden floor. The room smelled faintly of a familiar cologne but she couldn’t pin point where she smelled it from. Her gaze skimmed over the instruments. Rows of violins resting silently on their racks, brass instruments gleaming dully under the pale light that streamed from the tall windows, and drums tucked neatly into a corner as if waiting for hands bold enough to strike them awake.

Yet all of it blurred, fading into the background, because her eyes had already locked on that instrument.

The piano.

Her chest tightened almost immediately at the sight. That same grand piano where Azrael had sat just few weeks ago, his fingers coaxing out melodies so smooth and effortless it had felt like the room itself had been breathing with him. She remembered how the sound had filled every inch of the air, how his blue-ocean patterned hair had slipped into his eyes as he leaned into the keys, and how his electric blue gaze so much like hers, had burned with a passion she didn’t dare put into words.

Athena exhaled slowly, pulling herself back from the memory, but her feet betrayed her. They carried her closer until she stood right before it. She reached out, hesitant at first, then let her finger trail across the polished surface. The faint vibration of a low note answered her touch, unintentional yet alive, and it made her lips curl into the smallest smile.

Her heart gave a quiet ache. She wasn’t sure if she still knew how to play. Could she? After so long?

It had been eleven years. Eleven years since her hands had touched ivory keys with purpose. Eleven years since laughter and warmth had filled the air as her father played beside her, encouraging her even when she faltered. Music had died for her the day he did. It hadn’t been fun anymore, it had been a wound, one she refused to reopen.

The thought of him twisted something deep inside her chest.

Her body moved before her mind could stop it. She lowered herself onto the bench, the wood groaning faintly beneath her weight. Her hands hovered over the keys, fingers trembling slightly. She pressed one down, the sound sharp and lonely in the vast room. Then another. And another.

Soft at first. Unsure. Searching.

But as she played, the sounds began to string themselves together into something more, something fragile but whole. The notes rose and fell in a halting rhythm, her fingers remembering paths they thought they’d forgotten. A small, almost disbelieving smile tugged at her lips, breaking through the usual mask she carried.

It wasn’t perfect, her hands slipped, missed, hesitated but the piano didn’t care not did she. The room didn’t care. For the first time in eleven years, Athena felt the music answer her, filling the silence with something that was hers alone.

And for a fleeting, dangerous moment... it felt good.

The melody stumbled once, then steadied again under her touch. Athena let herself sink into it, her head slightly bowed, silver strands of hair brushing against her cheek as the notes carried through the vast, empty room.

But then...

A second hand brushed against the keys, smooth, deliberate, sliding into the spaces her own had left. The sound deepened instantly, richer, fuller, like two halves of a song finally meeting. Athena froze for half a heartbeat, her fingers hovering midair, but the music didn’t stop, it blossomed.

Her pulse spiked.

She didn’t have to look to know who it was. The warmth of him was right there behind her, close enough that she could feel the faint stir of his breath brushing against her ear.

"It sounds better like this," a low voice whispered, velvet and steady.

That same sexy, husky authoritative voice that could only belong to only one person.

Her toes curled inside her shoes before she could stop them. A shiver ran down her spine, from the intimate way his words seemed to settle into her skin. Still, she didn’t pull away. She continued playing.

Athena forced her eyes forward, focused on the keys, but her chest was rising and falling a little too quickly. Her fingers moved automatically, following the rhythm, yet all her senses were tuned to the boy behind her.

Slowly, cautiously, she turned her head just enough, and her gaze caught the first thing her memory had already painted, the streaks of ocean-patterned blue spilling across his hair. The light from the window kissed the strands, making them shimmer like water. Then, inevitably, her eyes lifted higher, meeting those electric blue irises that mirrored her own.

Azrael.