Short Stories-Lingorm

Melody of two Notes

Lingling Kwong always had a deep love for music. She had been playing the violin since she was five, her fingers dancing over the strings with effortless precision. Born in Hong Kong but raised in Bangkok, she often found herself caught between two worlds: the fast-paced, modern city she lived in and the rich, traditional culture of her parents. Her passion for music was her escape, her way of expressing everything that words could never capture.

Orm Kornnaphat, on the other hand, was the quiet but brilliant pianist in the prestigious music school they both attended. Orm had always been known for her intense focus and her near-perfect performances. But despite her talent, she was a mystery to many of her peers. Some thought her aloof, others assumed she was simply shy. In truth, Orm had spent most of her life feeling like an outsider, never truly connecting with anyone. Her piano was her only companion, a constant in a life that often felt fragmented.

Their first meeting was nothing remarkable. Lingling had been practicing for an upcoming recital, her violin soaring through the air as Orm sat across the room, lost in her own world at the piano. It wasn't until Lingling's bow accidentally broke a string that their paths finally crossed.

"Need some help?" Orm asked, her voice soft, but with an unmistakable air of competence.

Lingling glanced up, surprised to see the pianist standing near her, offering a small, warm smile.

"I didn't think anyone would notice," Lingling said, laughing lightly as she attempted to replace the string on her own.

"That's because no one does. But I could hear you from all the way over there," Orm replied, gesturing toward the far corner of the practice room. "I play better when there's a melody to follow. What piece are you working on?"

Lingling was slightly taken aback. She hadn't expected Orm to be interested in her music, let alone offer help. "It's a piece by Bach," she said, a little hesitantly. "But I'm having trouble getting the phrasing just right."

Orm stepped closer, gently observing Lingling's posture and technique. "Let me hear it," she said. Lingling hesitated for only a moment before starting to play again, the sound filling the room.

As Lingling played, Orm's fingers tapped rhythmically against her own legs. When the song finished, Orm didn't speak for a moment, but there was an intensity in her eyes.

"Your interpretation of it is... beautiful," she said finally, her voice soft yet filled with meaning. "But the phrasing needs to breathe more, like a conversation. It's not just notes and rhythms, it's a dialogue."

Lingling was taken aback by the depth of her insight. She had heard many critiques of her playing before, but something about Orm's words hit deeper than usual. They weren't just about the music; it was as if Orm understood the emotions she was trying to express through the piece.

"Maybe you could show me?" Lingling asked, unable to hide the curiosity in her voice.

Orm nodded, sitting down at the nearby grand piano. Her hands moved with fluid grace, playing an impromptu accompaniment to Lingling's violin, allowing her to try the piece again. This time, it felt different. It was as though the music was unfolding, expanding with each note, and Lingling could feel Orm's presence beside her—not just as a pianist, but as someone who understood what it was like to get lost in the art of creation.

The practice sessions grew more frequent after that. Lingling found herself looking forward to every encounter with Orm. They would meet after class, their instruments intertwined in a dance of sound, their connection growing deeper each time. But despite the growing chemistry between them, Lingling was unsure if Orm felt the same way. Orm's quiet nature made it hard to tell what she was thinking.

It wasn't until a late evening practice, after a particularly beautiful rendition of a Mozart piece, that the unspoken tension finally came to the surface.

Lingling put down her violin and exhaled slowly, her heart still racing from the performance. She glanced at Orm, who was lost in thought, her fingers tracing the keys of the piano absentmindedly.

"Orm," Lingling started softly, almost afraid to break the moment, "do you ever feel like... we're meant to make music together?"

Orm stopped playing, her eyes meeting Lingling's. There was something vulnerable in the way she looked at her, something unspoken.

"I do," Orm said quietly. "But it's more than just the music, Lingling. It's you."

Lingling's breath caught in her throat. She had suspected it for some time, but hearing it from Orm made everything feel suddenly real. She felt a warmth spread through her chest, and before she could stop herself, she took a step closer.

"I think I've been falling for you," Lingling confessed, her voice barely a whisper.

Orm's face softened, and for the first time, Lingling saw a smile break across her lips—small, but undeniably sincere. "I've been falling for you, too," she said, her voice steady now. "Just... didn't know how to say it."

The silence that followed was not awkward, but comfortable, filled with understanding. And in that moment, surrounded by the music they both loved, Lingling and Orm realized that the melody they had created together wasn't just a product of their instruments—it was the song of their hearts, growing in harmony, note by note.

In the months that followed, their relationship blossomed just as their music did. They were no longer just two students in a practice room; they were two souls who had found something rare and beautiful in each other. Their love grew like a duet, each note of their lives intertwined in a symphony that only they could hear.

The music school soon held its grand recital, and when the time came for Lingling and Orm to perform together, their duet was the highlight of the evening. The audience was enraptured by their chemistry, not just as musicians, but as partners—two hearts beating in perfect harmony.

After their performance, as they stood backstage, breathless and smiling, Lingling took Orm's hand and whispered, "I think we just created the most beautiful piece of music together."

Orm leaned in, her lips brushing against Lingling's ear, and whispered back, "And the best part is, it's just the beginning."

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