“I’m a classical pianist. I teach music as well.” As to whether I’d continue to teach, that was yet to be decided.
Stefan’s expression lit up. “Really? I love classical music.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Beethoven, especially. The piano sonatas. And Debussy. Satie. Chopin…” His gaze dropped briefly to my lap. “You have the hands for it.”
I blinked. “The hands?”
“You have long fingers,” Stefan said with a smile. “Elegant, too. Exactly what I would expect for a pianist.”
And there it was again, that flirtatious tone. This time I was certain I wasn’t imagining it.
“Thank you.” I struggled to find something else to say. “And you? What do you do?”
“I design IT software.”
“I’m impressed.” I laughed. “My wife calls me a luddite. I’m terrible with technology.”
Stefan’s gaze flickered to my left hand. “You don’t wear a wedding ring.”
I hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Not anymore.”
Stefan nodded, as if filing that away. “I see.”
We fell silent, and I gazed at the passing landscape, caught somewhere between the unfamiliar city outside and the man seated beside me. Berlin opened out in wide, unexpected spaces. I saw patches of green, low buildings, sunlight catching on glass.
It was nothing like I’d imagined.
The train crossed a river, and I gazed at the slow-moving water, a long canal boat cutting through it. For a moment, life felt suspended, and it had everything to do with the man at my side.
I was so aware of Stefan. I could feel the heat of him, his solidness, too near to ignore, too natural to justify moving away. I shifted in my seat, as if to give myself space.
It didn’t help.
If anything, it made me more aware of the line of Stefan’s arm, the quiet rise and fall of his breathing, the faint trace of something clean and unfamiliar that lingered in the air between us. I glanced at him, a quick movement that I undid just as fast, but it was long enough to take in the shape of his profile, the rough edge of his beard. I noted the way his jacket pulled across his shoulders.
My chest tightened and I jerked my head towards the window, fixing my attention on the city again, the glass buildings ahead of us, reflecting the sky.
I swallowed. Whatever this was—this unexpected road my body had taken me down—it didn’t mean anything.
It couldn’t.
The station appeared abruptly, a vast structure, all glass and steel, and the train slowed, easing into it.
I took a breath to steady myself.
Berlin. A fresh start. That was all this was.
I didn’t look at Stefan again until the train came to a stop at a platform.
Stefan stood. “This is Hauptbahnhof. Come—I’ll show you where to get a taxi.”
We stepped out onto the platform and made our way up through the station, Stefan guiding me through the flow of people with an easy familiarity. I realised the building had several layers. There were shops, restaurants, a supermarket… At the top, we emerged into a huge glass-fronted space.
Stefan led me to the main doors, then pointed to the taxi rank.
I breathed deeply. “Thank you. I’d have been completely lost without you.”