Chords of Tadhana

Chapter 7: The Missing Note

The days after Emily's call were a blur. Aaron couldn't shake her cryptic words, even as he tried to push them out of his mind. The idea that he was searching for something that had always been right in front of him felt like a riddle with no solution. What could it be? What had he been missing? Every time he tried to sit down with his guitar, the melodies escaped him, and the more he thought about it, the more frustrated he became.

For weeks, he had been trapped in this cycle—writing, deleting, rewriting, until his hands started to feel like they didn't even know how to play anymore. He was stuck in a loop, chasing the inspiration that seemed so close but was just out of reach.

It was a Monday afternoon when Aaron decided to take a walk to clear his mind. The streets were quiet, the air cool and crisp. He wandered aimlessly, his thoughts still occupied by the conversation with Emily. What had she meant by her strange words? And why had she stopped coming to the shows? Had she seen something in his music that he couldn't see himself?

As he walked past Kanto Sounds, the venue where they had first met and where his band had played countless shows, Aaron stopped and glanced up. The place looked the same as always—dimly lit, a few people chatting outside. It was the kind of place that felt alive with music, even when the doors were closed.

That's when he noticed a familiar face standing nearby, watching him. It was Emily.

She was leaning against a lamppost, her umbrella in hand. She looked different—more relaxed, but there was still a certain distance in her gaze. When she saw Aaron, she gave him a small wave, and without thinking, he found himself walking toward her.

"Emily," Aaron said, stopping in front of her. "I didn't expect to see you here. I thought... well, I didn't know if you were coming back."

She smiled softly, but there was an almost distant look in her eyes. "I know," she replied, "I've been meaning to talk to you. You've been thinking a lot about what I said, haven't you?"

Aaron nodded. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about it, actually. You said something about... something being right in front of me. I still don't get it."

Emily looked down for a moment, as if weighing her words carefully. "It's not about the music, Aaron."

Aaron blinked. "It's not? But... but that's all I've been focused on. That's what I thought you were trying to say."

"No," she said gently, shaking her head. "It's not the music you're missing. It's the person behind it."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

Emily looked at him with a mixture of sadness and understanding. "Aaron, the reason you've been struggling—the reason your music feels like it's slipping away—is because you've been looking for inspiration in the wrong place. You've been searching outside yourself, but the truth is, it's always been inside you. You just... you just haven't been listening."

For a moment, Aaron was silent, processing her words. "But what does that have to do with you?" he asked, his voice softer now. "You said you've been watching me. And I thought... maybe you were the reason I found new inspiration. But now you're saying it was never about you?"

Emily sighed, a sadness in her eyes. "Aaron, I never meant to be your muse. I've always been here, in the background, just... watching. But the truth is, I'm not the reason your music feels different now. You were always the one creating it. You just needed to see that for yourself."

Aaron stood still, his mind racing. There was something about her words that didn't quite make sense. If it wasn't about her, then why had he felt such a strong connection to her? Why had he written those songs, those lyrics, that were so deeply tied to her presence?

As he stood there, the truth began to dawn on him.

"Emily," he said slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Is it... Is it possible that... you're not really the person I've been seeing?"

Emily's eyes widened, and for the first time, she seemed almost startled by his question. "What do you mean?"

Aaron took a step back, his breath catching in his throat. "What if you're not really who you say you are?"

Emily's expression shifted, her features becoming more distant, almost like she was fading in and out. She looked at him, and for a split second, her eyes flickered, as though something deep beneath her surface was shifting.

And then, without warning, the illusion broke.

In the blink of an eye, Emily was gone.

One second she was standing in front of him, the next she had vanished completely. It wasn't like she had walked away—she had simply disappeared. There was no trace of her, no sound, no sign of her presence except for the lingering cold in the air.

Aaron's heart raced as the world around him seemed to blur. His mind struggled to comprehend what had just happened. Was that even real?

And then it hit him like a tidal wave.

All along, the girl he had been seeing—who had become his muse—wasn't real at all. She was a figment of his imagination, a projection of everything he had been searching for in his music and his life. He had created her. She was never there, not in the way he had believed.

The realization was staggering. The reason he had felt so inspired, so connected to his music in the past few months—it wasn't because of a girl in the front row. It was because he had been diving deep into his own emotions, pulling from a place within himself that he had long forgotten. He had been chasing his own reflection.

But why hadn't he noticed before? Why had he allowed himself to believe she was real?

Back in his apartment later that night, Aaron sat with his guitar, his fingers resting on the strings but his mind far away. The music that had been eluding him for weeks began to come back, but this time it was different. It was clearer, more honest. He understood now what he had been searching for: himself. The music he had been writing wasn't about someone else. It had always been about him, and the feelings he had been hiding from.

The truth hit him with a wave of clarity: The real inspiration had always been within himself.

And that was just the beginning.