The Echoes of the Piano

A Small Act of Care

It was Monday morning, and Haerin could barely focus on the music in front of her. Her fingers ached with every note she played, the bruises and calluses from weeks of relentless practice making each press of the piano keys feel like another strike against her already tired body. She tried to hide it—tried to force her mind to focus on the notes, on the piece in front of her—but the pain was always there, lurking beneath the surface. Still, there was no room for weakness. Not today. Not ever.

Her hands were a mess—raw and battered—but Haerin kept her composure. She had learned long ago how to mask the pain, to wear the smile, to keep moving forward as if nothing were wrong. The competition was close, and she couldn't afford to slip up. Not even a little.

Minji was sitting beside her at the piano bench, her presence warm and reassuring. Haerin glanced over at her occasionally, noticing how effortlessly Minji played, her fingers moving with ease, the music flowing naturally from her. There was something about Minji that always seemed so relaxed, so unburdened by the weight of expectations, and Haerin envied that.

The music class ended, and Haerin felt a small wave of relief. She couldn't wait to rest her hands for a while. As the students began to file out of the classroom, Minji turned to her with a bright smile.

"Hey, Haerin," Minji said, her voice light and cheerful. "Want to grab some snacks at the cafeteria? I could really go for a break."

Haerin hesitated for just a moment, but the thought of sitting down, of having a moment to relax without the pressure of the competition or her mother's expectations, sounded tempting. She forced a smile.

"Sure," Haerin replied. "I could use a break too."

The two of them made their way to the cafeteria, the noise of students chatting and laughing filling the air as they found a quiet corner to sit. Minji was in her usual upbeat mood, talking animatedly about a new piece she had been working on, while Haerin listened, still feeling the weight of her sore hands but trying to push it out of her mind. She wanted to enjoy this moment, this small bit of normalcy with Minji. She wanted to forget, if only for a little while, the competition looming on the horizon.

They were about to dive into their snacks when Minji, in her usual animated fashion, accidentally knocked over her strawberry milk carton. It tipped over and splashed across the table—right into Haerin's hands.

"Ah! Oh my god, Haerin, I'm so sorry!" Minji exclaimed, eyes wide with alarm as she immediately reached for napkins to clean up the mess.

But Haerin couldn't focus on the mess. The pain from the cold milk hitting her already sore fingers was immediate, sharp, and unbearable. She couldn't help it—she winced, letting out a small shout from the sudden pain.

Minji froze, her expression turning to one of concern as she realized what had happened. "Haerin... are you okay?"

Haerin quickly pulled her hand back, trying to hide the flare of pain that shot through her fingers, but Minji had already seen them. She noticed the bruises and calluses that had formed from weeks of relentless practice. Haerin tried to pull her hand away, trying to hide the state of her fingers, but Minji's gaze was fixed on them, a mixture of guilt and concern in her eyes.

"Your hands..." Minji whispered, her voice soft and filled with concern. "Haerin, you've been pushing yourself too hard."

Haerin quickly masked her expression, trying to make light of it. "It's nothing. I'm fine," she said, but Minji could see right through her.

Without saying another word, Minji stood up and walked to the corner of the cafeteria. Haerin watched as Minji returned with a first-aid kit, her brows furrowed in concentration as she sat next to Haerin.

"Let me help," Minji said gently.

Haerin didn't protest as Minji carefully took her hand, unwrapping a small bandage from the kit. Haerin flinched slightly, but Minji's touch was surprisingly gentle, and soon she had wrapped one of Haerin's fingers in a cute, pink Hello Kitty bandage.

Haerin couldn't help but stare at it for a moment, the small, childish design standing in stark contrast to the pain and pressure that had ruled her life. The Hello Kitty bandage felt oddly comforting, like a small moment of tenderness amidst everything that had been weighing on her.

Minji smiled as she finished. "There, that should help, right?"

Haerin looked at her finger, now wrapped in the bandage, and for the first time in a long time, she felt a little less alone. Minji's touch had been gentle, thoughtful, and caring—something Haerin rarely received, especially when it came to her music and her relentless pursuit of perfection.

Haerin's lips curved into a small, genuine smile. "Thanks, Minji," she said softly. "I didn't expect the Hello Kitty bandage, but... I kind of like it."

Minji's smile widened. "I thought it would make you smile. I'm glad you like it."

For a moment, Haerin allowed herself to relax, to savor the simple act of kindness. She hadn't expected something as small as a bandage to make her feel better, but it did. It was a reminder that, for all the pressure and expectations that weighed on her, there were still moments of care, moments of humanity.

As they sat together, chatting and laughing, the weight of the upcoming competition seemed to fade just a little. Minji was right beside her, offering a small but meaningful comfort, and in that moment, Haerin didn't have to be perfect. She didn't have to worry about winning or living up to anyone's expectations. All that mattered was this—a moment of normalcy, of genuine connection, and of being cared for.

And for the first time in a long while, Haerin realized that maybe, just maybe, it was okay to let her guard down.