Chapter 1
There he is... the most beautiful music my heart could ever hear.
Every single day, I went to the park for the exact same reason: to listen to him play the violin. He wasn’t a beggar. He never set an empty instrument case at his feet, and he never held out a hand for spare change. He just stood near the center fountain, drew his bow across the strings, and let the music drift over anyone willing to slow down.
Always beside him was a massive, incredibly patient golden retriever.
When he finished his daily set, he wouldn’t pack up and rush away. Instead, he would walk over to a nearby bench, sit quietly, and just listen to the ambient sound of the world moving past—the chatter of children, the rustle of the leaves, the heavy thud of footsteps. Around noon, like clockwork, a sleek black car would pull up to the curb, and he’d get in. That was his routine.
And for three weeks, mine was watching him.
I was a silent admirer, completely content to just exist breathing the same air as him. I loved the way his face relaxed when he played. I loved the complex, soaring melodies that made the rest of the crowded, noisy park fade into white noise.
But today, I don’t know what got into me.
The moment he finished playing his violin and went to his favorite bench, a sudden, inexplicable burst of courage took over my legs. Before my brain could even decide, I walked over and sat down right next to him.
“Hi,” I said.
My heart was hammering against my ribs. I wasn’t actually expecting a reply; I was a total stranger invading his quiet time. But he didn’t tense up. Instead, his head turned slightly toward me.
“Hey,” he said, his voice realy deep but surprisingly warm.
A wave of pure relief and happiness hit me. It was our very first interaction, and I hadn’t completely botched it yet.
“I’m Amelia,” I blurted out, the words tumbling over each other. “I’m... I’m your fan.”
“A fan?” He let out a low, genuine chuckle. “How can I have a fan?”
“Why not?” I countered, leaning forward slightly. “You play the violin really well. I come here every single day just to watch you.”
“Really?” A bright, brilliant smile broke across his face, entirely wiping away the serious expression he usually wore while playing. “Thank you so much!”
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“I’m Barron,” he then shifted his hand to gesture downward. “And this is Custard.”
The golden retriever, hearing his name, thumped his tail against the floor.
“Hello, Custard! You’re so cute, aren’t you?” I leaned down, burying my hands in the dog’s thick, soft fur.
Custard leaned into the touch, letting out a soft grunt of approval.
I was completely caught up in the moment until my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, glanced at the screen, I was almost late for my afternoon lecture.
“Barron, I’ll see you again tomorrow, okay?” I stood up abruptly, adjusting the heavy straps of my backpack. “I have to get to class! Bye, Custard!”
I waved at them and started sprinting toward the campus gates.
By the time I burst through the doors of the lecture hall, I was gasping for air, my lungs burning from the sudden cardio. My shirt was damp, and I could feel my face burning a bright, ugly red.
“Fridge, why are you soaked in sweat? My gosh... you smell awful.”
I didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. Britney, the school bitch, was standing near the row of desks, flanked by her usual group of minions. She was holding her hand over her nose as if I was a walking trashbin.
I rolled my eyes, refusing to let her ruin my mood. “Shut up, Britney. At least I’m not soaked in flour. Look at all that makeup. I thought you were tonkatsu.”
Britney’s eyes narrowed. “Funny! All you think about is food. No wonder you’re huge!”
On cue, her little minions started laughing hysterically, throwing their heads back as if it was the funniest joke of the century.
Instead of shrinking away, I threw my head back and laughed right along with them. In fact, I made sure I laughed louder than them, filling the room with a booming, unbothered sound until their snickers awkwardly fizzled out.
I never allowed these bimbos to bother me. They expected me to cry or hide in the bathroom, so I made it a point to always talk back whenever they tried to make fun of me. But today, I honestly didn’t even want to waste my energy on them. Today is a good day!
I had actually approached Barron.
As I walked down the aisle to find an empty seat, my mind drifted right back to him. He was tall, fair skin, plump lips, and a sharp, pointed nose. His eyes were deep, his hands are pretty with long fingers that moved with impossible grace over his violin, and he had thick, black hair. He was talented, beautiful, and effortless.
He was everything I can never be.
I have very, very good grades—straight A’s, actually—but I’m also 200 pounds. That’s why those bitches call me Fridge. I’m big, I’m loud, and I always have a stash of snacks in my bag. In a university full of girls who looked like Britney, I stuck out like a sore thumb. I was painfully aware of how much space I occupied in every room I walked into.
But as I sat down and pulled out my notebook, a small, secret smile crept onto my face.
Thankfully, Barron was entirely oblivious to my body. He didn’t look at my weight and he didn’t see the size of the girl sitting next to him on the park bench.
Because Barron can’t see.
