For My Love, Victor

Content Warning: Traffic Accident, Death

There’s an old man playing on his violin, completely oblivious — or uncaring — to the chaos around him. His violin’s worn down and clearly loved. There are words engraved on the wood — For My Love, Victor.

The tune’s familiar but Nathan Greene can’t think of its name. It’s slow, melancholic, dreamy, and it’s not the usual type of music that Nathan listens to; nevertheless, he stops to take it in. If he actually had any bills in his wallet, he’d approach and drop a few into the busker’s open violin case.

On the street behind the busker, traffic has stopped.

Paramedics and policemen are rushing around. There are horrified expressions everywhere, and a lady’s wails are louder than the sirens. Nathan listens in on the conversations around him, learning that just minutes before, a car hit a passerby. It was an old man, seemingly lost and confused, who suddenly wandered into the middle of the busy street. His wife, the distraught lady, had tried to call for him but was too late.

The man didn’t make it—there’s a blanket covering him and the paramedics shake their heads, eyebrows knit together. The driver who was behind the wheel, a distraught middle-aged woman, is speaking to the police.

It’s no wonder nobody’s taking a moment to actually listen to the busker. Everyone around them is still recovering from the unfortunate accident.

The tune that Nathan can’t name makes his heart heavy. It’s beautiful, and it’s heartbreaking. Perhaps this was just what he needed to hear after an exhausting day—a day just like any other, which meant it was horrible.

Right when Nathan thinks that the song is about to end, it loops instead. The busker starts the song, again.

From beside him, Nathan hears a tired sigh.

He turns his head, wondering if there’s at least one other person listening to the busker—and his heart leaps. Standing there is the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen in his entire life. Her face is ethereal, her eyelashes thick, her lips rosy, and her dark hair falling in waves around her shoulders; she’s wearing a crisp black suit.

She’s… breathtaking. Nathan’s never seen anyone as astonishing as her. He’s not one to be melodramatic, especially for a person he’s never met, but he’d go to war for this woman. She could ask him for anything and he’d give it up in a heartbeat.

Nathan tries to speak, but the sound that comes out of him is an embarrassing croak. Cheeks heating up, he coughs and tries again.

“He’s quite good, isn’t he?” Nathan asks, smiling.

The woman startles. She blinks at him with wide eyes. It’s a busy street with several people still in a panic over the accident, and they’re two people standing there watching an old man play the violin as if nothing is wrong. What a sight they must make, Nathan thinks.

Her eyebrows knit together and she studies him from head to toe. She must think he’s a creep.

“He’s very talented,” he says, sheepish. “Nobody else is listening to him. I just thought it was a waste.”

Nobody was listening to the busker because they were too preoccupied with the accident.

“I suppose,” she responds, finally. Nathan’s chest tightens. Even if she seems indifferent, her voice is the sweetest he’s ever heard. Everything about her enchants him.

The busker plays the song, again. It’s the same song—maybe it’s the old man’s favorite. He doesn’t even let it end before he starts it again, the music carrying over the murmurs of the crowd. Nathan smiles, happy to be able to listen again.

In contrast, the woman beside him sighs, tiredly, again… as if she doesn’t want him the busker to repeat it another time.

Nathan’s quiet for a while. The longer he listens to the man’s song, the more melancholic he feels. There’s a tightening in his chest he can’t ignore, and there’s sorrow in this beautiful woman’s eyes that is undeniable. The song must make her feel the same way, too. Perhaps that’s why she wants it to be over.

“My name is Nathan,” he murmurs.

The woman’s eyebrows jump up. She glances at him, the corner of her lips curling into a frown. “It’s not yet the time for you to learn my name.”

“…Huh?”

She stares. “Not yet.”

He doesn’t know what’s going on. This is the strangest conversation he’s ever had. He would have understood it more if she simply turned him down and refused to tell him her name, but no—she tells him that it’s not yet the time for that. Nathan watches her, confused, and the old man repeats the song again. The song seems to be getting shorter each time he plays it. Time is working quite oddly right now, he realizes. He can’t even make sense of that thought.

The woman declares, “Enough.”

She walks toward the busker, weaving around the crowd of people. The busker spots her approaching and stops playing, his lips a thin line. When the song finally stops, the crying becomes louder—the lady who’s wailing pulls at her hair.

Nathan watches as the gorgeous woman in the crisp black suit speaks to the old man. She says something that Nathan can’t hear, and the old man hangs his head low. He slowly shakes his head, pointing towards the mourning lady on the street behind them.

The woman in the black suit shakes her head back. She reaches out, her hand upturned, gesturing for the old man to take it. The old man continues to hesitate, and Nathan watches. The tightening in Nathan’s chest deepens.

Finally, the old man nods, leaning down to place his violin and bow into the open case.

He doesn’t bother picking up his belongings once they’re neatly packed, leaving them there on the street for anyone to take. Nathan doesn’t understand what’s going on but he’s overwhelmed with sorrow—and at the same time, peace.

“It’s time,” the woman in the black suit says. Nathan can’t hear it, not really. He can read it from the way her lips move.

The old man nods again, and she leads him away from the crowd—a crowd that doesn’t even glance their way. Nobody cares about the old man who has stopped playing the most enchanting song Nathan’s ever heard, nor do they care about the most gorgeous woman he’s ever seen. He watches the pair walk off into the sea of people.

Nathan blinks.

One second they’re there, and then they aren’t.

It’s only when Nathan finally moves from his spot and crosses the street that he understands.

He walks by the distraught lady whom the police are trying to pry away from the scene. It breaks Nathan’s heart. Nathan can’t see the face of her husband, not with the blanket covering him — but he can see his broken violin case, thrown on the floor open, and the violin with its snapped bow right next to it.

He recognizes the violin instantly, with its old worn down wood, and the black letters on it—For My Love, Victor.