Thump. Thump. Thump.

“It’s the only thing loud enough to drown out the silence you left,” he said.

BoOm... tana-na-na...

His fingers tapped the wet metal. Memories aren't linear; they're a collage scored by music. The first time he saw her—Zara—she was stealing his tire wrench in Goa. The background hadn’t been an orchestra then, just the chaotic static of a wedding procession. But in his head? In his head, that exact string section had swelled.

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