My Right Ear Hears No Wind, We Shall Never Meet Again Chapter 2

The morning Lily flew back, Mom knocked on my bedroom door at the crack of dawn and dropped a brass key on my desk.

"Violet, clear out the south-facing room on the second floor. Your sister always loved the natural light."

I looked up at her. That room used to be my music studio.

Seven years ago, after the fireworks destroyed my right ear, the grand piano, the ballet barre, and the sheet music stands were all shrouded in heavy dust covers.

Mom had held me tight back then, crying into my hair. She told me not to look at it, that looking at it would only break my heart.

I believed her.

I thought they locked that room to protect me from the trauma.

But today, the housekeeper yanked off the covers, and sunlight spilled over the polished mahogany of the piano lid. Mom personally directed the maids to wipe away every speck of dust. She swapped the decor for Lily's favorite white roses, plugged in a lily-of-the-valley diffuser, and even changed the drapes to a soft, pastel pink.

I stood in the doorway, looking at the gleaming keys, and suddenly felt a hysterical urge to laugh.

It wasn't that the piano couldn't be touched. It just couldn't be touched by me.

Downstairs, Dad was stringing up a massive banner in the foyer. Welcome Home, Lily in glittering gold letters.

My brother, Daran, had put on a sharp tailored suit hours ago, insisting he had to greet her right at the arrivals gate.

Silas had originally promised to sit in the front row for my thesis defense. But right before he walked out the door, my phone buzzed.

[Lily just landed. She's really overwhelmed. I'm riding to the airport with your parents to calm her down.]

I stared at the text bubble for a long time. Finally, I typed back a single letter.

[K.]

I didn't argue. I didn't ask questions.

Because I knew fighting for it wouldn't change a damn thing.

I went back to my room to print my thesis materials. The printer was linked to the family's shared cloud drive. When I opened the interface, a folder popped up on the screen.

It was named: Lily - Europe Archives.

I meant to close it. But my cursor hovered over the icon for a long time before I double-clicked.

Inside was not the tragic, isolated exile Mom had painted. There was no evidence of a girl suffering alone for seven years.

Instead, it was an avalanche of photos and videos.

Massive birthday bashes. Graduation trips to Santorini. Skiing in the Swiss Alps. Ticket stubs for Broadway shows in London. A bedroom wall overflowing with designer gifts. Every single year was vibrant, loud, and incredibly crowded.

Mom mailed her hand-knit scarves every winter. Dad wrote lengthy, emotional birthday cards.

Daran's passport stamps perfectly matched the dates of her winter and summer breaks.

I clicked on a video from her eighteenth birthday.

On the screen, Daran was laughing as he adjusted a party hat on Lily's head. Mom was crying through the FaceTime call, saying, "Don't be scared, sweetheart. It's not that we don't want you. We just can't bring you home quite yet."

Lily rubbed her reddened eyes. "Is Violet still mad at me?"

Dad sighed heavily into the microphone. "She's still young, she's holding onto a grudge. Just give it time. Once she stops hurting so much, we'll bring you back where you belong."

I sat frozen in my desk chair. The blood slowly drained from my fingertips and toes.

So, for seven years, they hadn't cut her off. They hadn't coldly punished her for ruining my life.

They were just waiting for me to stop bleeding. Waiting for me to look a little less pathetic, so they could drag her back into the sunlight.

My mind drifted back to the night I was admitted to the hospital seven years ago.

The specialist told them the nerve damage in my right ear was severe. He said someone needed to stay in the room to monitor me. But the only person sitting in the dark with me was a hired nurse.

Mom said she had been crying all day, that she was simply too exhausted and needed her own bed.

Dad said he had a crisis at the firm. Daran claimed he had a mandatory frat event and promised to drop by the next morning.

Silas told me there was an emergency at his startup, kissed my forehead, and told me to be a good girl.

That night, I lay alone on the stiff hospital mattress. My right ear felt like it was packed with concrete.

The entire world was split cleanly in half. One side was a chaotic buzz. The other was the silence of a grave.

I was in too much agony to sleep. I kept swiping my phone screen, waiting for a single text from any of them. Nothing.

Now I knew why.

That was the exact night they were all on a group video call, watching Lily blow out her birthday candles.

At the very bottom of the folder was a group photo.

It was taken backstage after Lily's first piano recital in Paris.

She was wearing a stunning white gown, cradling a massive bouquet of lilies. Silas stood right beside her, holding her wool coat over his arm.

The caption read: Lily's first time back on stage! Silas says she's the bravest girl he knows.

I stared at that sentence until my vision blurred.

Seven years ago, Silas sat by my hospital bed, holding my hand so tight it hurt. He swore to me he would never see her again.

He told me he would stay by my side and help me navigate a world with only half its sound.

I believed him.

I believed him because he was the only person who never treated me like I was broken.

But he hadn't cut her out. He just got better at hiding her from me.