Kayla
The moment Nicholas’s fingers touched the piano keys, the room seemed to go quiet. The usual hum of conversation, the clink of glasses, the distant crackle of the fire—all of it faded into the background as the first few notes of the melody filled the air.
It was a lively tune, yet soft, almost hesitant at first. The kind of song that crept into your bones, warming you from the inside out. I froze where I stood, my hand gripping the edge of the armchair as a strange wave of familiarity washed over me.
I knew this song.
My mother…
“Kayla?” Emma’s voice broke through the spell, and I turned my head to see her smiling at me in that lopsided way she always did when she was drunk. “Are you going to dance, or are you just going to stand there and stare at him all night?
