Chapter 11: Confessions Over Apple Strudel
The weekend finally arrives, and I can barely contain my anticipation. I’ve been looking forward to Clara coming over for dinner since we first talked about it. It’s Friday afternoon, and with every passing minute, I find myself checking the clock, counting down the time until she arrives.
As the clock strikes 6:00 PM, the doorbell rings. My heart skips a beat as I rush down the stairs. When I open the door, there she is—Clara, standing with a Tupperware in hand, her eyes slightly wide as if she’s nervous, too.
“Hey, Clara!” I greet her, trying to sound casual but knowing how much I’m shaking inside. “You made it!”
Clara smiles and hands me the Tupperware, her fingers brushing against mine for a moment. “Hi, Ludwig. I hope it’s okay that I brought the strudel in a Tupperware. I didn’t want it to get all messy on the way over,” she says, a nervous laugh escaping her lips.
I take the Tupperware, my fingers lingering on hers for just a second longer than necessary. “It’s perfect,” I reply, smiling. “My mom’s already in the kitchen, so just come on in. We’re about to sit down for dinner.”
As we walk into the kitchen, Clara is greeted warmly by my parents. My mom beams at her, clearly appreciative of the homemade dessert.
“It smells wonderful in here, Clara!” my mom exclaims, eyeing the Tupperware. “What a lovely surprise. I’m sure this will be a hit.”
After a delicious meal of sauerkraut, rice, and chicken, we all sit down at the table, chatting and laughing. Clara fits in effortlessly with my parents, and they seem to adore her easygoing nature.
When dinner ends, Clara insists on helping clean up, but I wave her off. “You’ve done more than enough by bringing that amazing apple strudel.”
Once the dishes are done, I lead Clara upstairs to my room. It’s quiet and cozy, filled with books, sheet music, and the soft glow of my desk lamp. I sit down at the piano, running my fingers over the keys, letting the sound fill the room.
Clara sits on the edge of my bed, watching me play. She smiles to herself, her cheeks a soft pink from the warmth of the evening and the kindness she’s felt from my family. The nervousness that was there earlier is melting away, replaced by a sense of comfort.
After a while, I stop playing and turn to her, unsure of how to continue our conversation. I’ve been thinking about this moment all evening, and now that it’s here, I don’t know what to say.
Clara seems to sense my unease. She stands up, takes a deep breath, and walks over to me. Her voice is soft but steady as she speaks.
“Ludwig,” she says, looking down at the floor before lifting her gaze to meet mine. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
My heart races, and I can’t help but feel a rush of anticipation. I nod, watching her carefully. “What is it?”
Clara smiles softly, her cheeks turning pink. She shifts on her feet, but there’s a clarity in her eyes now, like she’s made up her mind.
“I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you… and I’ve been feeling something for a while now,” she confesses, her voice trembling slightly but steady. “I like you, Ludwig. More than just as a friend.”
A strange warmth washes over me, and my chest tightens in a way I wasn’t expecting. I open my mouth to respond, but the words get caught in my throat. My heart is pounding. She likes me.
I stand up, walking over to her, my fingers trembling. “Clara…” I whisper. “I’ve felt the same way. I’ve been trying to figure out how to say it… but I like you too. A lot.”
The words hang between us for a moment. Then, without thinking, I reach out and gently take her hand in mine. My heart feels like it might burst from my chest as Clara’s eyes widen slightly, a look of surprise and something else—relief, maybe—flickering in her gaze.
She smiles softly, her hand tightening around mine. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I say, my voice stronger now, filled with a certainty I didn’t know I had. “Really.”
We stand there, holding hands, a quiet understanding passing between us. Clara leans in slightly, her eyes locked onto mine. She moves in closer, and for a brief moment, it feels like time slows down.
Before we can say anything else, I feel something inside me shift, something light and warm. I gently lean down, closing the distance between us, and our lips meet in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s not rushed or impulsive, but rather full of all the quiet things we’ve both been feeling for so long. It’s a kiss that says more than words ever could.
When we finally pull away, neither of us says anything at first. The silence is comfortable, filled with the soft sound of our breaths. I can feel something new and exciting blooming between us, something that makes my heart race and my chest tighten.
For the rest of the evening, we talk, laugh, and share our thoughts about everything—from band to our favourite books, to how we both sometimes struggle with expressing our feelings. By the time it’s getting late, I walk her to the door, the night feeling perfect in its simplicity.
As Clara steps outside, she turns to me one last time, her eyes bright. “Thanks for an amazing evening, Ludwig. I really had a great time.”
I smile, my heart full. “Me too. Let’s do it again sometime.”
And as I close the door behind her, I can’t help but feel like something new and wonderful has just begun.
Chapter 12, Für Clara
October is here, and with it, the crisp autumn air and the changing of the leaves. The world feels different now, like something inside me has shifted. Maybe it's the season or maybe it's something deeper, but I can't deny it—I feel more alive. And all I can think about is Clara.
Band practice is now twice a week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and while I’ve always looked forward to it, lately, my mind is far away from the instruments and the music. I can’t stop thinking about her—the way she smiles, the way she listens to me when I talk about music, the way her eyes light up when she talks about the things that matter to her.
And with her 14th birthday just around the corner, I know I need to do something special for her. I can’t just give her a regular gift. I need to give her something that reflects how I feel. Something that says everything I’ve been thinking and feeling but haven’t quite been able to express.
That’s when I come up with the idea. I’m going to write a song for her.
I can already imagine it: something soft, something warm—just like how I feel when I’m around her. Something beautiful, yet simple. A piece of music that expresses everything in my heart. It’s the only way I know how to truly show her how much she means to me.
The problem is, I have no idea where to start.
I’ve been sitting at the piano for hours after school, trying to find the right notes. Nothing feels right. The melody is either too dull or too over the top. It’s like I can feel the emotions I want to convey, but they won’t come out the way I want them to.
But as the week goes on, I find myself thinking about her more and more. I think about the way she smiled when I played the “Moonlight Sonata” for her in band practice, the way she seemed to genuinely care about what I had to say about music. The way she laughed at my jokes, and how comfortable she makes me feel.
On Tuesday afternoon, after band rehearsal, I sit outside the school, my hands shoved in my pockets as the wind sweeps the fallen leaves across the pavement. I’m tired, but there’s this burning need inside of me to get it right.
And that’s when it hits me—what the song should sound like.
It should be gentle, like the autumn breeze that’s drifting across my face, something that builds over time but never gets too intense. A melody that’s warm and inviting, just like Clara. It should reflect the hope and joy I feel when I’m with her.
That night, I go straight to my room, no distractions, just me and the piano. I sit down, pull out my music binder, and I’m ready. I let my fingers hover over the keys for a moment, then begin. The first few notes flow easily, and with each chord, I feel like I’m getting closer to something beautiful.
The song takes shape. It’s slow at first, like a calm river running through my thoughts, but it starts to build, layer after layer. I’m lost in it now, my emotions woven into the music. Every note feels like a part of me, something I can’t say with words but can pour into the keys.
By the time I finish the final chord, I know I’ve created something special. It’s exactly what I wanted. I name it “Clara’s Melody,” because it’s hers, it’s for her. I can’t wait to share it with her.
That night, I play it again and again. I’m nervous about tomorrow—her birthday. But I know I have to give it to her. I have to let her hear it, even if I don’t know how she’ll react.
The next day, I’m a bundle of nerves. It’s Clara’s birthday, and I can’t stop thinking about how to give her the song. I decide that band practice tonight will be the perfect opportunity. After everyone else leaves, I’ll ask Clara to stay. I’ll play it for her, and no one will interrupt.
I don’t want anyone else to hear it, not yet. This is something just for her.
At the end of band, after most of the others have packed up, I find Clara sitting in the band room, her saxophone case by her side. She looks up at me as I walk in, and her eyes brighten when she sees me.
“Hey, Clara,” I say, my voice a little shaky. “I was wondering if, after band, you’d want to come by the piano for a bit? I… I made something for you. Something I want to share.”
Clara raises an eyebrow, a surprised smile on her face. “For me? What is it?”
I hesitate for a moment before responding, the words feeling heavier than usual. “It’s a song. For your birthday. I hope you like it.”
Her smile widens, and her eyes shine with excitement. “A song? That’s so sweet, Ludwig. Of course, I’d love to hear it.”
After practice, when everyone else has cleared out, I motion for Clara to follow me. We walk to the piano, and I sit down, feeling a mixture of excitement and anxiety. The room is quieter now, just the two of us. I glance at her one last time, and I feel my nerves settle. This is it.
I take a deep breath and begin to play “Clara’s Melody.” The gentle notes fill the room, and I watch as Clara’s expression changes from curiosity to something softer, something deeper. Her eyes are fixed on me, and I can tell she’s listening to every note, every chord.
When I finish, I look up at her, my heart in my throat. The room feels so still, and I hold my breath, waiting for her response.
Clara’s eyes are wide, and she blinks a few times, like she’s trying to process everything she just heard. Her voice is barely above a whisper as she speaks.
“That was… amazing,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “Ludwig, I don’t know what to say. It’s beautiful. It’s… how I feel when I’m with you.”
I feel a rush of relief and warmth flood through me. I smile shyly, my heart racing. “I’m glad you like it. It’s for you. Happy birthday, Clara.”
She steps closer, her eyes glistening, and she reaches for my hand. “Thank you, Ludwig. It’s the most special gift I’ve ever received.”
I don’t know how to respond, but I don’t have to. I can feel it in the air between us—something real, something we’ve both been waiting for.
We stand there for a moment, just holding each other’s gaze. It’s quiet, but the world feels full, like everything is right. I’ve given her something that I couldn’t express with words. And I’m pretty sure she feels the same way.
“Happy birthday, Clara,” I say again, my voice full of feeling.
And in that moment, I realize that all the words and music in the world can’t quite capture how much she means to me. But somehow, this song says it all.
by ArchBloonery23