Chapter 5: Sing for Me
393 Words
Claire came over again that evening, cheeks flushed from the cold, arms full of takeaway and her laptop bag. “They sent me the first cut of the care home footage,” she said, slipping off her coat. “You have to see this.”
I watched her pull up the video. Leo appeared onscreen—my face, my voice—singing an old folk song with three elderly residents clapping beside him.
He stood beneath the ginkgo tree, one hand lightly cradling a microphone while his other kept rhythm on his thigh. The soft breeze caught the edge of his shirt, making him look effortlessly relaxed. His voice wasn’t perfect—but it had warmth, and that was enough.
He sang:Clouds drift over my hometown hill,Where mother waits by the window sill…
It was a song I’d heard in passing. A melancholic tune from our childhood.
His eyes crinkled when he smiled at the old lady tapping along beside him. He leaned toward her gently during the chorus, as if singing just for her.
Claire teared up. “This part gets me every time. You’re amazing.”
I said nothing. My throat was tight.
She glanced at me, then nudged me with her elbow. “What’s wrong?”
“Just tired,” I said quietly.
“You should sing that song for me sometime,” she said.
I forced a smile. “Maybe.”
That night, we sat together on the sofa. She curled into my side, humming the tune from the video.
“I never knew you had such a beautiful voice,” she murmured.
I almost laughed. I didn’t. That wasn’t me.
She tilted her head to look at me. “Do you remember humming that song the other night? On the balcony?”
I stiffened.
“You hummed it so softly. I recorded part of it on my phone. It helped me sleep.”
She reached for her phone.
“No,” I said quickly. “It’s okay. I remember.”
I didn’t.
But I couldn’t take that comfort away from her.
Later, as she drifted to sleep beside me, I lay there staring at the ceiling, listening to her breathing.
She was falling in love again—with a version of me that wasn’t real.
And the worst part
She seemed happier than she’d been in months.
- Writer
