Chapter 12 - Learning to SingSix months after the bead was removed, the Ashford manor had transformed. The heavy velvet curtains were replaced with sheer linen that let in the sunlight, and the echoing silence of the halls was permanently retired.
In the music room, Sophia’s grand piano stood open. Leo sat on the polished bench, his small feet dangling just above the pedals. Beside him sat Clara, patiently guiding his index finger to middle C.
Plink.
Leo smiled, listening intently to the decay of the note.
"Now D," Clara encouraged.
Plink.
Christian stood by the archway, holding a tray with three cups of hot cocoa. He watched his son’s face illuminate with each chime. Leo was no longer the frail, ghostly child clinging to his father’s trousers in terror. His cheeks were flushed with health, his speech was nearly indistinguishable from that of his peers, and he had developed an insatiable curiosity for every sound the world had to offer.
"Dad!" Leo called out without turning, his acute ears picking up the faint clatter of the ceramic mugs. "Did you bring the marshmallows?"
"Three for you, two for Clara, none for me," Christian laughed, walking into the room and setting the tray on the side table.
"That’s unfair," Leo giggled, turning around and taking a warm mug. "Dads need marshmallows so they don't stay grumpy."
"I haven't been grumpy in months, Leo," Christian said, sitting on the other side of the piano bench.
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"That’s true," Leo agreed thoughtfully, taking a sip of cocoa. "Ever since Clara came, your heart doesn't thud like a drum anymore. It sounds like the piano when you play the soft songs."
Christian and Clara caught each other’s eyes over the boy’s head. A subtle, unspoken warmth passed between them—a shared understanding born not of haste or convenience, but of two adults who had walked through grief and arrived at a quiet, enduring mutual respect.
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