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“Margaret would have liked that.”

I kept playing. “What was she like?”

“Patient,” he said immediately. “Far more patient than I deserved.” His voice softened. “She had a way of staying… even when things were difficult.”

I let the melody shift slightly, moving into something softer. “That’s a rare skill.”

“Yes.” He sighed. “People think love is dramatic. Grand gestures.”

“And it isn’t?”

“No.” His eyes opened slowly. “It’s choosing to stay.”

The words lingered in the quiet room.

“Margaret used to say if someone makes the world quieter just by being in the room… don’t let them wander off.”

I played a little longer, letting the music fade naturally.

Mr Hargreaves’ fingers had started tapping the arm of the wheelchair again, the uneven rhythm returning as the quiet settled after the music.

I rested my hand over his. “Easy,” I murmured.

The tapping slowed beneath my palm, and for a moment he looked at our hands as if trying to remember something important.

“My Margaret used to do that,” he said in a quiet voice.

“Do what?”

“Remind me I was still here.” His shoulders eased, the tension leaving them one breath at a time. I kept my hand where it was for another few seconds, until the restless movement stopped completely, then I lifted it away.

“Come on,” I said gently. “Let’s get you back to your room.”

Mr. Hargreaves looked more relaxed than he had all evening. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He studied me for a moment with surprising clarity. “You should keep the good ones close,” he said suddenly.

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The ones who stay.” His gaze drifted again, the clarity already fading. “They disappear faster than you think.”

The room fell quiet again.

“Funny thing about the right person,” he said.

The randomness of the remark stopped me in my tracks. “What’s that?”

“They don’t make life easier.” He looked up at me. “They just make it worth the trouble.”

Quinn’s face surfaced in my mind without invitation. His bright eyes, his quick smile. That restless curiosity that seemed to pull the world closer instead of pushing it away.

The kind of person who asked to be held all night and trusted you not to disappear.

I closed the piano lid, then wheeled him out of the room and along the corridor. When I left him in his room, he was humming softly to himself.

The melody was almost the same one I’d been playing.