Chapter 3 - Notes in the DarkRoom 412 became a secret sanctuary. Harper brought a white music notebook and a pen. Sitting in his wheelchair with a compact MIDI synthesizer keyboard on his lap, Rowan began racing against time—trying to compose one final piece before complete silence claimed him.
He worked with frantic energy, converting his physical pain and fear into musical notation. Harper sat nearby during her short breaks, keeping watch over the hallway while listening to the quiet tapping of his fingers.
However, as the days passed, the swelling inside his inner ear worsened. Sound turned muffled and metallic. One night, unable to hear the lower register notes, Rowan smashed his fist onto the synthesizer keys in rage and threw the notebook across the room.
“It’s useless!” Rowan choked out, his voice breaking. “The music in my head sounds like screeching metal now. I can’t hear myself!”
Harper picked up the notebook from the floor and walked over to his wheelchair.
“You don’t need to hear it through your ears, Rowan,” she said firmly, taking his hand and placing his palm flat onto the wooden surface of the bedside table.
She tapped her fingers against his knuckles in a steady, rhythmic pulse—matching the rhythm of his heart monitor.
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“Feel the vibration,” Harper whispered. “Music isn't just sound waves. It’s energy. It’s rhythm. It’s living.”
Rowan looked up into her steady hazel eyes, feeling the warmth of her hand over his. Slowly, the despair in his heart gave way to renewed resolve.
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