Doppelgänger

Two

Azura's POV

The soft notes from the piano wrapped around me, each one sinking into my bones as my fingers glided over the keys. It was Saturday afternoon, finally a break from the endless grind of medical school. Here, in this moment, I didn't have to think about exams or the pressure to succeed. Here, it was just me and the music, nothing else.

I closed my eyes, letting the melody wash over me. Every note felt like a part of me, like the music was flowing through my veins, not just something I played, but something I breathed. My fingers moved effortlessly over the keys, each chord pulling me deeper into a place where everything faded away. The stress, the worries, the fear of not being enough—they didn't exist here. It was just the music, pure and simple.

The sunlight spilled through the windows, warming my skin, but I barely noticed. I was too lost in the sound, in the way the notes blended together, forming a language I didn't need words to understand. The outside world could have fallen apart, and I wouldn't have cared. Here, I was free.

I didn't hear the door open, didn't notice the soft footsteps behind me until a familiar voice cut through the music.

"Azura."

I blinked, the spell of the piano broken, but I didn't stop playing. My fingers kept moving on instinct, though I knew I had lost the thread of the song. I didn't turn around, just kept my focus on the keys, feeling the smooth surface under my touch.

"Asher," I replied, keeping my voice light, but I could hear the weight behind his name. My brother's presence was always heavy, always full of something unspoken.

"I've been trying to get your attention for a while now," he said, his tone a mix of amusement and exasperation.

I finally let my hands still, the last notes of the song lingering in the air. "Sorry, I didn't hear you come in. I was... somewhere else."

He moved closer, leaning against the side of the piano, his tall frame casting a shadow over me. "You're always 'somewhere else' when you play." There was a softness in his voice that wasn't there when he talked to anyone else. Only me. His sister.

I looked up at him, taking in his dark brown hair that had grown a little too long, his deep brown eyes that always seemed to be holding something back. I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was off with him lately. Over the past few weeks, I had noticed little things—the way he came home late, the tiredness in his eyes, the occasional flash of anger that crossed his face when he thought I wasn't looking. I wanted to ask him about it, but the words got stuck in my throat. I didn't want to pry into his life; he was my brother, and I trusted him. Yet, the doubts crept in.

"I needed it today," I said softly, feeling the weight of the week settle back into me. "I had a long week, and I just... needed to escape for a while."

He nodded, understanding, as he always did. "Medicine taking its toll on you again?"

I let out a small laugh, though it didn't feel like one. "When doesn't it?" I ran my fingers absently over the keys, not playing, just feeling the smooth surface under my touch. "But it's more than that. I feel like I'm drowning in expectations. Like everyone is waiting for me to slip up."

"You won't," he said firmly. "You never do."

I shook my head, my hair falling into my eyes. "You don't know that."

"I do," Asher replied, his voice leaving no room for argument. He always believed in me more than I believed in myself.

I met his gaze, seeing the unshakable confidence he had in me. It warmed me, but also added to the pressure I felt. I didn't want to let him down. I didn't want to let anyone down.