Silent Strings

Chapter 4

Nine Years Ago



The music room was quiet, save for the gentle hum of the piano keys filling the air with a hauntingly beautiful melody. Jackson had been on his way to grab something he’d left in the department office when the sound stopped him in his tracks. He knew that tune wasn’t on any sheet music from the school’s repertoire—it was raw, soulful, and new. His curiosity piqued, he followed the sound.

Stepping into the room, he paused at the door, his breath catching at the sight before him.

Sitting at his piano—a sleek black grand Steinway, the one he’d all but claimed during his frequent visits to the music room—was a girl who couldn’t have been more than seventeen. Her delicate fingers danced over the keys with a grace he’d never seen before, the melody pouring out of her as though she’d been born to play.

But it wasn’t just her music that captivated him. She looked… ethereal. Like something out of a dream. Her long, straight ebony hair fell down her back, catching the sunlight streaming through the windows. Her fair skin, flushed faintly pink, gave her the appearance of a porcelain doll come to life. Her face was soft and youthful, her closed eyes framed by dark lashes that fanned out gently. No heavy makeup, no embellishments—just natural beauty with a touch of red tint on her lips.

Jackson, for all his confidence, found himself momentarily starstruck.

As Ines’s fingers danced over the keys, the melody filled the room, soft yet powerful, carrying a bittersweet warmth. Jackson leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, but his gaze was anything but casual. He watched her, utterly captivated, as if the sound of the piano tethered him in place.

Then, unexpectedly, she began to sing.

Her voice was soft at first, shy and almost uncertain, but it held a haunting sincerity that made his chest tighten.

Jackson blinked, stunned. Who even sings like this?

She lost herself in the song, her eyes fluttering closed as her voice grew stronger, each note spilling effortlessly. Jackson’s heart kicked up a beat. It wasn’t just that her voice was beautiful—it was real, the kind of voice that didn’t need flashy tricks or perfect training to touch someone.

Jackson moved closer, slowly, his steps deliberate so as not to break the spell. From this angle, he could see her better—the way her lashes brushed against her cheeks, the faint blush on her fair skin, the way she tilted her head slightly as if pouring every bit of herself into the song.

The chorus filled the room, her voice swelling with an emotion that Jackson couldn’t quite place but felt deep in his chest. He realized he’d been holding his breath and let it out quietly, shaking his head in disbelief.

When the last note faded, the silence that followed felt almost too loud. She opened her eyes, blinking as though waking from a trance, and finally noticed his presence and froze.

Her wide eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

“Oh, hello,” she said softly, her voice as gentle as her appearance. “I’m sorry, are you using this one?”

He didn’t answer immediately, still caught off guard by her presence and the melody lingering in his mind.

“Yeah,” he said after a beat, his lips curling into a small, teasing smile. “That’s my piano.”

Her eyes widened, and her cheeks turned an even deeper shade of pink. She immediately stood and bowed slightly, flustered. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know. I thought this was for public use.”

Jackson’s laugh filled the room, low and rich. “Relax, princess. I’m not gonna kick you out.”

She froze at the word princess, her blush deepening as she muttered, “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? You kinda look like one,” he said with a teasing smirk, his gaze sweeping over her. “Innocent face, perfect posture… Even your hair looks like it belongs in a glass case. Tell me, are you real?”

Her lips parted, caught between indignation and disbelief. “You can’t just say things like that!”

“Why not?” He leaned in slightly, the teasing glint in his eye sharp. “It’s the truth.”

Ines huffed, looking away as she muttered, “This is… embarrassing.”

“What’s that melody you were playing? I’ve never heard it before.”

“Oh…” she hesitated, her embarrassment still evident in the way she glanced at her feet. “It’s a song from my hometown.”

“Hometown, huh?” Jackson tilted his head, his curiosity growing. “What’s your name?”

“Kassandra Cua,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “But you can call me Ines. Everyone does.”

“Ines,” he repeated as if testing how her name felt on his tongue. He liked it. It suited her.

“And you are?” she asked, finally looking back at him.

“Jackson,” he said with a grin, straightening up and offering his hand. “Jackson Huáng. Third-year pre-med student. And this—” he gestured dramatically to the piano, “—is my personal stress-relief machine.”

Ines giggled softly, though her cheeks were still a little pink. “Well, it’s a beautiful instrument.”

“It is,” Jackson said, his eyes drifting to the keys before flicking back to her. “Mind if I join?”

She blinked at him, clearly surprised. “Oh, um, sure.”

He didn’t wait for a further invitation, sliding onto the bench beside her. The proximity made her a little tense, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she watched as his fingers brushed over the keys, testing a few notes. Then, to her astonishment, he began playing the melody she had just finished.

“You—you memorized that already?” she asked, her voice filled with disbelief.

Jackson shrugged, his fingers continuing to glide over the keys effortlessly. “Not all of it, but enough.”

“Are you some kind of genius?” she muttered under her breath, but he caught it and laughed.

“Maybe,” he said with a wink. “But let’s keep that between us. Don’t want the whole campus knowing.”

Ines rolled her eyes, her initial embarrassment melting into something more comfortable.

“Seriously, that melody? It’s beautiful. You’ve got a gift, Ines.”

Her cheeks flushed again, but this time, it wasn’t from embarrassment. “Thank you. I’ve been playing since I was a kid.”

“It shows,” he said, his gaze lingering on her a moment longer than necessary. “You’ve got passion. I can see it. Feel it.”

Ines looked down at the keys, unsure how to respond. No one had ever spoken to her like this before—so openly, so genuinely.

Jackson smirked, sensing her shyness. “Tell you what. Next time you play, save me a seat. I’d love to hear more.”

“Next time?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Ines.” He stood, stretching slightly. “See you around.”

As he walked toward the door, he turned back and shot her a grin. “By the way, you’re welcome to play my piano anytime. But next time, try not to hog it all for yourself, yeah?”

She laughed despite herself. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving her alone with the piano and a heart that was suddenly beating a little faster than before.