Later that night, after Matteo has gone to sleep, I'm in my office, watching the video of Ella playing the piano. Her hands for a moment hovered before she played, as though she was afraid to touch the keys. I recognize that look. It's the face of someone who's lost something. And I marvel at what she's fleeing from.
The next morning, I stand outside the Hayes estate, gripping the strap of my bag like a lifeline.
I barely slept. My mind kept replaying yesterday—Matteo's hesitant wave, Leo's cold gaze, the way this house felt too big, too empty, too heavy with silence.
But I'm here now.
I exhale, straighten my spine, and press the doorbell.
A few seconds later, the massive front door swings open.
Leo Hayes stands before me, dressed in another tailored suit, looking just as severe as he did yesterday.
Except this time, he's not alone.
A woman stands beside him—tall, elegant, with chestnut-brown hair pinned into a perfect twist. She wears a fitted blazer and heels sharper than my sharpest retort.
She studies me with thinly veiled disapproval.
"You're the tutor?" Her voice is clear and polished.
"Ella Richson," I say, nodding.
She doesn't offer her name in return. Instead, she turns to Leo, speaking like I'm not even here.
"You can't be serious about this, Leo."
My stomach knots.
"She's already been hired," Leo says, his voice clipped.
The woman crosses her arms. "There are better options."
"There were better options," he corrects, "but Matteo responded to her."
That shuts her up. For a moment, at least.
She makes a thin line with her lips before turning to me. She says, "Matteo is my nephew," as though I should know that already. Furthermore, I will not permit you to instill unreasonable expectations in him.
I gaze straight into her eyes.
"He is never going to be normal."
I feel my stomach clench. I open my mouth, prepared to say anything, but Matteo's tiny voice interrupts.
"Aunt Amelia."
Everyone turns.
At the top of the stairs, Matteo holds onto the wooden railing with one hand while clutching his stuffed wolf with the other. He glances in my direction.
A glimmer of something appears in his eyes. Recognition.
Amelia sighs. "Matteo, sweetheart, come here."
Matteo doesn't move.
Leo's jaw clenches. "Let Ella do her job."
For a moment, I think Amelia might argue. But then she exhales sharply and turns on her heel. "Fine. But when this blows up in your face, do not come to me in tears.
She strides past me, her heels clicking against the marble floor. The front door slams shut behind her.
Silence settles.
I glance at Leo, half-expecting him to defend her words.
He doesn't.
Instead, he drags a hand through his hair and mutters, "Let's get this over with."
I shouldn't care.
Not regarding what Amelia said. Not about the way Ella's jaw clenched as if she were choking back a whole flurry of feelings.
However, I do care.
Matteo remains near the staircase, his eyes darting between us like he's trying to make sense of the tension hanging in the air.
Ella doesn't say anything about what just happened. "Hey, buddy," she says, exhaling and lowering herself to Matteo's level. Are you prepared for today?
Matteo pauses. Then he nods slowly.
Ella grinned. Though tiny, it is real. "Do you think the piano will be used again?"
Matteo gives me a quick look as though he wants my approval. I give one nod.
He turns and vanishes toward the music room without saying another word.
Ella looks at me before pushing to her feet and following him.
Quietly, she says, "I do not care what your sister thinks." "Matteo is in good condition."
My chest becomes tight.
I remain silent. I do not believe I can.
Rather, she follows Matteo, and I see how her presence somehow changes the atmosphere in the house.
The music room is exactly as I left it—elegant, pristine, and impersonal. The grand piano sits like a monument in the center, untouched. But Matteo stands beside it now, his stuffed wolf still in his grip.
I sit on the bench, leaving space for him. "Want to play something today?"
Matteo doesn't respond, but his fingers twitch around his wolf's ear.
"Or we can just listen again," I say. "No pressure."
Slowly, he climbs onto the bench beside me.
I take that as a yes.
I let my fingers drift over the keys, pressing down lightly on the opening notes of Clair de Lune again. Soft, careful.
Matteo watches closely, his gaze locked onto my hands.
Halfway through the piece, he reaches out. His small fingers press a key—hesitant at first, then firmer. A single note rings through the air.
I don't react. I just keep playing.
He does it again. And again.
It's clumsy. Offbeat. But it's something.
When I finish, I finally look at him. "That was good."
He doesn't smile, but there's something different in his expression. Pride? Maybe.
I glance at the stuffed wolf in his lap. "What's his name?"
For a long moment, I think he won't answer. Then, so soft I almost don't hear it—
"Lupo."
My heart clenches, not because he spoke, but because it sounds like he hasn't said a word in forever.
"Lupo is a wonderful name." I tap a key, letting the note ring. "Do you think Lupo likes music too?"
Matteo gives the smallest nod.
The lump in my throat grows.
This isn't just a job anymore.
I think I am begining to care.
I watch from the doorway, unseen.
Ella doesn't know I'm here.
She is unable to observe Matteo's reaction to her, including his reaching for the keys and the slight relaxation of his tense shoulders.
His speech pattern.
Only one word. But it goes beyond what he stated months ago.
I rub the bridge of my nose as I release my breath.
I am not sure how to handle this. Alongside her.
She is not meant to be important. The only role she is expected to play is tutoring.
However, Matteo is observing her in a manner that he has never done before.
And I am afraid of that.
because individuals depart.
Also, I can not allow him to form an attachment to someone who will not stick around.
Matteo appears lighter by the end of the lesson. Just a bit. As if the burden bearing down on him had been somewhat relieved.
Gently, I shut the piano lid. "The same time next week?"
He grabs Lupo and then nods, which is so tiny I almost missed it again.
Progress.
Leo is in the hallway, waiting for me. Crossed arms, stiff face.
"You managed to make him talk."
That is not a question.
My bag is slung over my shoulder. "Looks like it is."
His jaw clenches. "Do not make too many assumptions."
I raise my eyebrows. Do you mean not to become attached?
No answer. His silence speaks for itself.
I move forward, my voice softer now. He has formed an attachment already. Whatever your thoughts are on it.
Leo's gaze darkens. "That is precisely the issue."
He turns on his heel and leaves before I can respond.
My heart is pounding as I watch him leave.
Even though Leo Hayes is a stronghold, eventually the walls will give way.
And I believe I have just discovered the first one.
Leo doesn't say another word as he walks away, leaving me standing in the dimly lit hallway.
By now, I should be accustomed to people avoiding me and avoiding me as if I were a risk they could not afford.
But this time, for some reason, it annoys me.
I sigh quietly, release the pressure on my chest, and make my way to the front door. The house is too large and too silent for a place that should be a home, and my footsteps reverberate against the marble floor.
I am about to grab the handle when a tiny voice interrupts.
"Ella."
I become motionless.
Almost a whisper, but I can hear it.
I slowly turn and see Matteo standing at the hallway's edge with Lupo tightly clutched against his chest. Though his expression has changed, his dark curls still fall into his serious brown eyes.
Something more delicate.
A tentative feeling...
The lump in my throat is swallowed. "Yes, my friend?"
He remains silent for a long time. Then, so subtly that it is practically a secret—
"Are you going to return?"
I am not sure why his remarks affected me so strongly. Perhaps because I understand how it feels to question whether someone will stick around. if you are selected by someone.
I try to keep my voice steady. "Sure. I will return later.
Matteo nods once, as though to show that he thinks it is true. Without another word, he turns and disappears down the hall.
I let out my breath slowly as my heart quivers.
Perhaps I ought to keep my distance. Leo might be right and I should not become attached.
However, it is too late.
Already, I am attached.
I watch from the top of the stairs as Matteo speaks to her. Requests that she come back.
A storm rages in my chest, fierce and relentless.
"I should be relieved, I suppose." He talked. "He connected." Was not this what I wanted?
So why does it feel like a mistake?
Ella turns, disappears into the night, and walks out the door.
My jaw is clenched as I run a hand through my hair.
She believes she comprehends him. She believes she can assist. However, she has no idea what it is like to see someone repeatedly walk away.
I will not allow him to experience that.
even if it means shoving her away before she approaches too closely.
If it means pushing her away before I do, then so be it.