Chapter 2The Song She Stole for Him

The restaurant near the avenue had only one four-top left.

Once the broth began to simmer, Tristan pulled a sleek matte-black earbud case from his pocket and set it gently near the condiments. Two decals were affixed to the lid: a silver crescent moon and an evening star.

“Here,” Tristan said, nudging it toward Nora. “I’m giving these back. You stayed up with me in the practice room until one in the morning, and I’ve been wearing them all day. The battery is completely dead.”

Nora didn’t reach for them. “Keep them for now.”

Tristan pocketed the case, but his voice stayed light and chatty. “Honestly, Ethan, she’s being way too modest. Her ear is incredible. She was just terrified during the first run-through. We went over the arrangement maybe twenty-five times, and by the end, she had every single breath mark memorized.”

I stared down into the red, bubbling tomato broth, watching the dried herbs circle the rim.

Last month, when I finally tracked the first rough demo of Heard, I called Nora, unable to contain the pride in my chest. I sat at my upright piano and played the chords live through the phone.

Ten seconds in, the telltale click of her keyboard echoed through the speaker. She was answering emails.

When I stopped and asked if it was really that uninspired, she had sighed into the receiver. Ethan, I’m an economics major. I don’t understand modern counterpoint. Do you really need me to patronize you with fake compliments? It’s exhausting.

I had deleted the finished master file from my desktop that very night.

It wasn't that she didn't understand.

She just didn't care enough to try. She could map out twenty-five breath marks for another guy's cadence, but she couldn't spare sixty seconds of patience for my life's work.

Halfway through the meal, Nora reached into her tote bag and pulled out a small gift box.

“I almost forgot,” she said, offering a tight, apologetic smile. “Happy early Harvest Moon.”

The box was wrapped with exquisite care, tied with a powder-blue satin ribbon—my favorite color.

My chest tightened despite myself. Since our freshman year of college, we had maintained an unwritten rule: every autumn equinox, under the harvest moon, we exchanged a small gift inspired by the night sky. Last year, I gave her a hand-blown glass lunar globe; she gave me a small wooden moon pendant she had painstakingly whittled herself, its edges rough and lopsided.

I untied the ribbon and lifted the lid.

Inside sat a cheap ceramic travel mug bearing the official logo of her university’s fall arts gala.

Tristan leaned over, glancing inside. “Oh! Isn’t that from the leftover merch box the PR team gave us after our shoot? I told you they were just taking up trunk space. I didn’t realize you grabbed one.”

Nora’s expression darkened instantly. “It’s brand new. It’s never been used.”

“It’s not about whether it’s been used,” I said quietly.

I set the lid back on the box. Before I could pull my hands away, my phone buzzed on the table.

Nora had created a temporary three-person iMessage group earlier so she could send over the hotel check-in confirmation she had booked for me.

A message popped up from Tristan:

How much longer is he staying? We’re supposed to tell everyone at the afterparty tonight that we’re officially dating.

The notification vanished three seconds later. Tristan Hayes unsent a message.

The table fell dead silent. The only sound was the rolling boil of the pot.

Tristan’s knuckles turned white around his phone. “I… that was meant for my roommate. It was a stupid inside joke. I sent it to the wrong thread.”

I didn’t look at him. I kept my eyes fixed entirely on Nora.

“What does ‘officially dating’ mean?”

Nora avoided my gaze, picking up her chopsticks and dropping a piece of tender beef into my bowl. “People have been teasing us about the whole ‘Moonlight Duo’ nonsense for weeks. He was playing along with a joke. Ethan, stop dissecting every stray sentence like you’re conducting an interrogation.”

“Are you two together?” I asked.

Tristan’s eyes rimmed with red, looking small and defenseless. “Ethan, I swear I never wanted to come between you two. But after rehearsing side by side for months… people talk. We can’t control what the whole department assumes.”

Nora slammed her chopsticks onto the porcelain rest with a sharp clatter.

“Enough!” she snapped. “It was a song! Do you really have to paint everyone around you with such foul intentions?”

A couple at an adjacent booth glanced over.

Noticing the eyes on us, Nora leaned forward, lowering her voice, but her tone was ice. “Since we were kids, Ethan, when have I ever not made allowances for you? You fly out here without a word, humiliate Tristan in public, and now you’re sitting here grilling me like a criminal suspect! When did you get so insecure and bitter?”

I looked down at the slice of beef sitting untouched in my broth.

Every single time we had fought in the past, I was the one who yielded. She would pull out my chair, remind me to put on my scarf because I caught colds easily, drop food into my plate, and I would take the offered bridge back to peace. I always folded.

This time, I didn't touch it.

I reached down, unclasped the thin silver chain around my left wrist, and placed it gently in the center of the table between us.

We had bought it during our freshman year. She had rolled her eyes at how sentimental it was, but she had worn the matching piece on her ankle for three years.

“If there’s really nothing between you two,” I said, my voice eerily calm, “then there’s no need to explain anything.”

Nora stared at the silver chain, her jaw rigid.

“We’re done,” I said. “Who you sing with, who you spend your nights with—it has nothing to do with me anymore.”

“You think threatening to break up scares me?” She didn’t touch the bracelet; she leaned back against the vinyl booth, crossing her arms. “You have until noon tomorrow to take that back and apologize to Tristan. Do that, and we can pretend tonight never happened.”

I picked up my coat, pulled a twenty-dollar bill from my wallet to cover my half of the check, and stood up.

“Ethan!” Nora called out, her voice sharpening with disbelief as I grabbed my bag. “Noon tomorrow. That’s my final offer.”

I pushed through the glass doors of the restaurant into the bitter wind.

“Don't hold your breath.”