Ethan had once believed that music could heal anything-until the day it couldn’t. When Lily, his wife, passed away, he put down his guitar and never touched it again. The melodies that once filled their home turned into silence, too painful to bear.
Years passed, and Ethan lived in quiet solitude. His fingers, once so nimble, grew stiff with disuse. The guitar sat in the corner, untouched, a relic of a life he no longer recognized.
One evening, a soft knock at the door startled him. When he opened it, he found a young girl-no older than twelve-standing there with an old, battered guitar.
“Are you Mr. Ethan?” she asked.
He hesitated. “I was.”
“My name is Emily,” she said, clutching the guitar t...