He stood there for a moment, simply gazing down at the instrument, before he reached out. As his fingers brushed against the piano lid, he froze, as though caught in the act of something forbidden.
With a forceful breath, Leon lifted the lid, revealing the neat arrangement of black and white keys. He sat down, and as his fingers hovered over the keys, a shiver ran through him—a sharp, subtle fear flickering in his chest. To shake it off, he pressed a key. The note rang out clearly, filling the room. Encouraged, Leon pressed more keys, slowly piecing together a simple melody. His confidence grew as he moved on to a piece Cesare often played.
Though his fingers, stiff from disuse, stumbled over the keys and missed notes, he kept playing. He barely registered the mistakes. All that mattered was the act of playing.
