"Best of luck, champ."

Dave, my older brother yells over his shoulder, before leaving me alone with my teary-eyed mom.

"Mom, " I cup mother's face, "I need to do this. However, if I can't, you will be the first to know. Okay?"

She nods hesitantly and kisses my forehead, "We are just a call away." She strokes my hair before leaving me alone in my minimalistic one bedroom studio apartment that my mom had insisted on decorating herself.

"I know what's best for my baby." She had cooed while placing a picture of our family on my study table. I am sure, if it was up to her, she would baby proof the entire 450 square feet of my new home.

Now sitting on the edge of my queen-sized double bed, that she had selected, I contemplate my next move.

I take stock of my life so far.

I am twenty-four. 

I have never lived alone. 

I love playing the violin.

Up until a year ago, I was in a coma that had taken ten sold years off of my life. And for the past year, the doctors and my family had worked together on my mind and body to get me up to speed.

So finally, when the doctors had given me a clean bill of health a couple of weeks ago, I had expressed my desire to live alone and work on my music. 

 Of course, mom had rejected that idea vehemently, but when I had persisted, Dave had stepped in, "Mom, she is not thirteen anymore. Let her live a little."

Mom had grudgingly agreed, "Fine. No one ever listens to me anyway."

That was a lie, but no one, not even my headstrong father had said anything to the contrary.

I take out my violin from its case I run my fingers over each of its strings.

I have missed you.

I spend the next couple of hours tuning and shining my pride and joy, and by the time I am done, I hear my stomach growl.

I heat the food mom had neatly stacked in the fridge. And after a hearty, albeit a little lonely meal, I turn in for the night.

The next morning, I am awoken by a knock on the door. Cribbing, I open it without checking through the keyhole, and my eyes fall on an old lady. She reminds me of my grandma.

"Good morning." I bow to her.

She gives me a toothless smile, "So, you are Diana, our new tenant."

"Yes ma'am." I nod and give her a bright smile, "Nice to meet you."

"Your mom didn't mention how beautiful you are." She says, giving me a once over.

"Mn?"

"My grandson would have liked you." She says cryptically, and before I can voice my thoughts, she adds, "Let me know if you need anything." And disappears behind the door adjacent to mine.

After this somewhat odd encounter, I go back inside and get ready for the day.

Dressing in a yellow sundress and a matching yellow hat, I pick up my violin case, and cross the road. Within a minute, I am in the garden I had been dreaming about for the past eleven years.

It's bathed in hues of pinks, purples, and the occasional blues. It's breathtakingly beautiful.

After the ten years I had spent on the hospital bed, the first and only thing that I had remembered after waking up, was the image of this garden.

Strange, isn't it?

A brief online search had revealed it to be 'The Blossoms' on the outskirts of New York. Clicking through the images one by one, my heart had felt drawn to it, like a moth to a flame. 

So when the time had come to select an apartment, I had selected a place that overlooked this garden.

Before the incident, I was a musical child prodigy with a bright future. And to help me get back in the game, my father had arranged for me to perform in front of the board of directors from the Lotus School of performing arts. To say that they were apprehensive about letting me in, would be an understatement. 

I play a tune on my violin that I have been working on for months now. But it feels like something is missing. Like it's almost within grasp, but still far away.

I don't know for how long I play, but I stop when a cold drop of water lands on my forehead.

I open my eyes and look at the almost night-like dark sky.

It's going to start pouring any second.

I pack up at the speed of light, and two minutes later, I am home. As soon as I close the door, the tempting aroma of homemade pot pie hits me with full force.

I walk to the dining table and sure enough, there sits an almost steaming pot of deliciousness.

Did mom come here in my absence?

I look for my phone and realize that I had left it in the apartment.

I look at the screen and sure enough:

Mom (5 missed) 

Dave (7 missed) 

Oh, dear! 

With trembling hands, I call mom, who picks up after the first ring.

"Are you alright? Where were you? You should have picked up the call!" She enquires and reprimands, sounding half upset and half relieved.

"Mom, did you bring the pie?" I enquire.

"Yes, I did. I... " She answers but before she can continue, the call disconnects and then refuses to connect.

I look at the inviting dish on the table and smile.

'Thanks, Mom. I love you.' I type and press send before tossing the phone on the bed and tucking into the warm pie.

Looking out, I notice that it has grown darker and has started pouring as well. I pull the curtains closed, and decide to work on the piece I was planning on playing in front of the panel. 

I must have fallen asleep sometime during it though, for when I try to stand, my feet refuse to cooperate. I look at the time, and it's almost eight pm.

How long was I asleep for!? 

I look at the table and find dozens of sheets lying haphazardly on it.
I tidy up the table and look at the sheet lying on top of the pile. It has something scribbled in the margins. 

When did I do this?

I pick it up and my eyes widen in surprise.

Looks like I completed the music piece that had been swimming around in my mind aimlessly.

Excited, I take out my violin and start playing the notes. The apartment fills with the melody that has been begging to be let out for the past year.

Finally complete. 

I play the last note and close my eyes.

It's done. 

And a second later, the room fills with the sound of applause and I stop breathing. 

Without looking back, I set my violin down with trembling hands. 

"Who are you?" I ask, and the noise stops. What do you want?" I add, trying to sound fearless, but failing miserably.  

I wait for someone to answer. But all I hear is a small click.

I turn around and find myself all alone.

Did I imagine it? I must have, right? 

Having lost my appetite, I turn in for the night. It's a few hours though, before the sound of applause leaves my mind. 

The next time I open my eyes, it's morning. Having fallen asleep late, I decide to stay in bed for as long as I can.

I have barely closed my eyes when my phone vibrates. Keeping my eyes closed, I reach for it from under my duvet.

"Mn." I grunt into the microphone and as expected my mom's voice greets me, "Sweetheart, I am sorry, were you sleeping?"

"Mn," I grunt again.

"Don't keep your phone on mute, Hun." She requests and I grunt once more.

"Mom, call her later. You know she has never been a morning person." I hear my brother's voice reprimand her. 

"I don't know why she hates her phone so much. What's the use of having one of she doesn't pick it up when it rings!" Mom retorts and adds, "I couldn't even give her the meal yesterday!"

Wait, what!?

If she didn't deliver the meal, then who did?

"Mom," I start in an urgent tone but change my mind. Telling her will only freak her out. 

"What is it, Hun?" She asks in a concerned tone.

Keeping my voice for betraying my feelings I tell her that I will keep the ringer on next time and that I am fine.

Disconnecting the call, I run to my study table and look at the sheets carefully. The notes in the margin are not in my handwriting. 

I close my eyes and the sound of applause from last night fills my mind once more. 

I did not imagine it! 

Fear grips my heart and I hurriedly wear something decent before running out the door.

I bang on my landlady's door, and a handsome man with sharp eyes opens the door.

"Hi." He smiles and offers his hand. When I don't accept it, he smiles awkwardly and asks, "How can I help you?"

"Who are you?" I blurt out.

"I am Bradley." He answers simply. "I am Sliviya's grandson."

I blink, and he opens the door wider and steps back, "Would you like to come in?"

I shake my head vigorously, "There is a ghost in my apartment." I blurt out and feel my cheeks heat.

The man, Bradley, laughs, "And why do you think that?"

Anger bubbles inside me, and I proceed to explain the unexplainable things that had happened the day before.

"I am sorry." He apologizes, sounding anything but.

"Mn?"

"There is no ghost in your apartment." He states calmly, "Let me prove it to you."

He leads me to my apartment and I follow, at a safe distance.

Entering, he looks around. Bending down near the kitchen counter, he picks up a piece of paper and hands it to me.

'Hope you like pot pies. Welcome to our community.' The note reads.

I look at Bradley questioningly and he walks to my table where my notes are stacked. He looks around and finds another note.

"I came over to deliver lunch yesterday. Not finding you here, I used Grandmom's spare keys, let myself in." He states.

"But what about the notes and the applause!?"

"That was me too. Grandma asked me to pick up the dishes, but when I knocked, you did not respond. Worried, I opened the door and found you slumped over there table. But luckily, you were just asleep. As a student of music myself, I couldn't help but look through your sheets and make suggestions. I am sorry for scaring you with the applause though."

He lowers his eyes and continues, "Fearing that I had left the door open, I returned to check and found you playing. Uninvited, I listened, and before I could stop myself... " He trails off.

"I am sorry. It will never happen again." He apologizes sincerely and turns to leave.

"Wait, " I blurt out, and he turns to look at me questioningly. 

"Could we play together sometime?" I enquire, and his face colors.

I clear my throat and add, "I mean, play the violin. I am rusty."

He smiles brightly, "Sure. I will be free in a couple of hours. Would you like to go to the garden?"

I nod, and he smiles.

"It's a beautiful day to start. Isn't it?" He asks, holding my gaze.

And just like that, my heart starts racing again for the second time that day, for a completely different reason. 

*****

{Note :- Word Count 1966}