The Music Between Us

Maya stepped off the stage at the Royal Albert Hall, applause still ringing in her ears. She smiled as she passed crew members, her face a practiced mask of composure, even as exhaustion tugged at every muscle. It had been a flawless performance—another triumph in a long string of successes. The critics would no doubt rave about her precision, her poise. It was what she had been working towards for years, after all.

But now, as the stage lights dimmed and the crowds dispersed, all she wanted was quiet. She needed air, a reprieve from the bustle. It was her final performance in London, and more than anything, she craved a moment alone.

“Maya, I need you—” Petra started, but stopped as her finger shot up. He knew better than to press further. “I just finished the tour, Petra,” she said, her voice weary. “I will be outside for a bit and then get an early night. You are welcome to talk all things logistics and schedule tomorrow. Deal?”

At this, Petra simply nodded, curt and efficient as always. With a quick salute, he twirled on his heel and disappeared back into the chaos. She admired his almost robotic ways, although people would likely describe her in much the same way behind her back. Only Petra, the shadow he was, truly understood the inner storm she carried beneath the polished surface.

Maya grabbed her trench coat and adjusted the strap of her designer bag, before, sleek, and quiet, as if a thief, slipped out the side door into the cool air. At the first whisp of the wind, she pulled the coat tighter. She forgot how unforgiving London could be.

Once the door clicked shut behind her, the world immediately shifted. The hum of the venue was a force behind her, but with that click, the chaos turned into stillness. Rather, as much stillness as one could get in central London. So, Maya closed her eyes, inhaling the cool air, trying to ground herself.

After a moment, she opened her eyes, tugging the coat a little bit tighter again, more than ready to slip away into the anonymity of the city. But as her gaze swept across the streets, they landed on someone standing a few meters away, just beyond the glow of the streetlamp. A man, hands in his jacket pockets, watching quietly. She almost looked past him—just another figure in the London night. But something about his stance, the way he stood still, caught her attention.

And then their eyes met.

Maya’s breath hitched slightly, recognition flooding in. It was Jake.

She froze, and any remnants of noise completely faded away as everything else fell into place. She hadn’t seen him in nearly fifteen years, and yet here he was, standing outside one of the grandest concert halls in the world, as though no time had passed at all. He was older, of course, but unmistakable.

He didn’t move at first, just held her gaze, almost as if he too were processing their proximity. Then, he took a confident few steps, closing the distance between them.

“Jake?” She stepped forward herself and met him in the light of the streetlamp, uncertainty making her wonder whether she was hallucinating. “What… what are you doing here?”

He grinned that same easy, lopsided smile she remembered from their youth. “Saw your poster on the tube. Couldn’t resist.”

Maya exhaled, a strange mix of sheer surprise and warmth washing over her. “You came to the concert?”

“Yeah,” he said, slipping his hands back into his jacket pockets, his grin turning sheepish. “I couldn’t miss it. It’s been, what, fifteen years?”

“Something like that,” she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

For a moment, they stood there, just looking at each other, the years falling away in the cool night air. Maya’s mind raced with unspoken thoughts—How are you here? Why now? What have you been doing all this time?

“I wasn’t sure if you’d recognize me,” Jake said, his tone light, though there was a softness behind it.

She smiled, almost in disbelief. “How could I not?”

He laughed quietly, and then, “Fancy a walk?”

Maya hesitated. She had come out here seeking solitude, a brief escape from the frenzy of the evening. But now, she felt slapped by the past. Yet, Jake had always been an escape. She found herself nodding. Surprise turning to slight giddiness.

“Yeah,” she said, her smile growing. “I’d like that.”

Naturally, they both headed toward Hyde Park. As they crossed the front of the hall, weaving through the concert stragglers who still lingered outside, Maya instinctively turned her head to avoid being recognized. Jake noticed and, with silent understanding subtly shifted his body to shield her, almost like a bodyguard.

As they entered the park, the lights dimmed again as they moved toward the quieter paths, the cool breeze brushing against their faces. The chatter of the evening faded and was aptly replaced by the rustling of leaves.

Memories flooded back. Memories of nights like this, of them together walking and talking about the deepest, darkest truths. It seemed like both yesterday and an age away. As they walked, they shared knowing smiles. The Serpentine was ahead. Their silently agreed upon destination. It used to be their top spot once the crowds cleared—the place they used to come to when they needed to escape everything, back when the world was simpler, and the future was still unwritten. The familiar bench by the water beckoned. In front, the lake’s dark surface reflected the moonlight, proving a contrast to the darkness that otherwise enveloped.

He gestured toward the bench, just by the water’s edge. Maya took her spot on the right. He settled beside her. Their silence was heavy with unspoken words, years between them a jumbled set of puzzle pieces. But, it felt no different than she had remembered.

“So,” Jake began, breaking the stillness, “what’s it like? All this success. Does it feel how we thought it would?”

She looked at him, the question landing like a weight in her chest. She could see the earnestness in his eyes—he wasn’t asking to challenge her, but because he genuinely wanted to know. And that made it harder to answer. She couldn’t lie. Not to him.

“I don’t know anymore,” she said softly. “It’s everything I worked for. Everything we talked about. But… I don’t feel it, Jake. Not the way I thought I would.”

He didn’t say anything, just waited.

“I love playing, I really do. But somewhere along the way, it became… something else. It’s not about the music anymore, not really. It’s about the next performance, the next tour, the next expectation. It’s like I’m on autopilot, playing perfectly, but I… I don’t feel anything.”

Jake nodded slowly. “Yeah, I figured.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, her tone sharper than she intended.

He shrugged again, unbothered. “Just that when you turn something you love into a job, it’s easy to lose sight of why you loved it in the first place. That’s why I stuck to small gigs. Keeps it real for me.” he paused, a slight smile curving his lips as he added, "Plus, it left me room to explore other passions—like sound therapy."

"Sound therapy?" Maya echoed, her eyebrows raising in surprise.

"Yeah," Jake smiled, more earnestly this time. "I started blending my music with wellness practices. I run sessions where music and sound frequencies help people relax or heal. I even collaborate with yoga studios and wellness centres."

Maya processed this new information, her surprise mingling with intrigue. "That’s... quite a leap from the pub gigs and jam sessions we used to do."

He laughed softly. "It is. But it’s fulfilling in a way I didn’t expect. It’s brought a new dimension to what I do… and love."

Her eyebrows were still raised, so he added, “It’s fascinating, started from the same place but now at completely different spectrums.”

She stiffened. An unspoken comparison of the familiar stranger next to her. Their short exchange spoke volumes. She was a robot; he an animated human. Jake, with his simple life, seemingly in love with his music. Her, with all the accolades and success, but somehow hollow inside. She thought she had lucked out, plucked out of obscurity. Right place, right time. But, was she? Jake was making her have all types of reflections there. Her autopilot kept such thoughts at bay, but, this familiarity of what used to be a safe space made her face reality.

Past had slapped her, but reality backhanded.

"Jake, I've been caught up in chasing bigger stages and louder applause, I forgot what it’s like to simply enjoy the music," she confessed, feeling a stir of envy for the contentment Jake had found in his unexpected path. Then, with a small hope, “do you ever think about what it would’ve been like if things had gone differently? If you’d gone for it—pushed harder?”

Jake looked over at her, his eyes thoughtful. “Sometimes,” he admitted, after a pause. “But I don’t regret it. In reality, stardom would have made me into an egomaniac,” with the added wink, she knew he was trying to lighten the air. He knew she was frazzled. Damn him.

She swallowed, the knot in her chest tightening. “I don’t know if I chose any of it. I don’t even know if I chose this life. I just went with it. I pushed down any thought that told me otherwise.” And she did. She ran with every opportunity, fearful she’d lose it all if she didn’t. Petra had said himself; she was lucky.

She went from concert to concert, directed and herded, finding that easier than putting her foot down. Too much brewed underneath.

Jake was quiet. Then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You can still choose, you know. It doesn’t end because you’re on top of the mountain. If you want something different, you can take a step in another direction.”

Maya blinked. The simplicity of his words almost made her laugh—of course, it wasn’t that easy. How could she just step away from everything she’d built? How could she admit to the world that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t sure anymore?

She looked at him and found his gaze already on hers. Steadfast. Grounding. His calmness almost washed from him to her. As the silence stretched, gazes intelocked, she realized he was merely reminding her that somewhere along the way, she had stopped believing she had any control over her own life.

He kept her gaze and as if reading her thoughts said, “you don’t have to keep running, Maya,” his voice quiet but certain. “What if you stayed for a while? What if you gave yourself time to figure it out?”

Seeing her uncertainty, “you don’t have to know all the answers now. But you don’t have to run away either. Maybe just… pause.”

She let the word sink in. Pause. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d truly done that. She looked down.

“I can join you,” Jake continued. “I’m not tied down. We can rediscover what it’s like to play for ourselves again. No audience. No pressure. Just music. Just us.”

Maya’s throat tightened. She raised her head again and saw his true intent. “Like it used to be,” he added. His blue eyes almost sparkled, reflecting the moon. That alone felt like a sign. And she couldn’t kick down the fact that the idea stirred something deep within her that she hadn’t felt in years—an excitement, not for the next stage or the next review, but for something simpler. A chance to breathe.

 “You don’t have to decide tonight, Maya. I’m not going anywhere. If you want to stay, I’d like that.” Jake said.

And just like that, fifteen years seemed like nothing. She felt at home. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to have it all figured out. Perhaps she could choose differently, without knowing what came next. Without having someone there to goad her. But rather being with someone who’d really listen.

The choice in the face of that seemed easy. She did not want to be a mere vessel of the sheet music in front. Enough was enough.

“All right,” she whispered. “I’ll stay.”