Filed to story: Seventeen Heartbreaks: When Love Has No Voice
Rola’s face flushed with anger. “If it didn’t sound good, the song must’ve been the issue. The song sucks, not me!”
Sophie’s eyes gleamed as she responded calmly, “Well? You’re calling your composition ‘sucks’? Or is it possible you didn’t write it at all?”
Just then, the media arrived backstage, hoping to interview Rola. They overheard Sophie’s pointed words and turned to Rola with suspicion.
Seething, Rola gritted her teeth. “You can say whatever you want, Sophie. But let’s see how you handle it when you can’t play a single note on stage.”
Sophie smiled slightly, exuding the calm confidence of someone unshaken. “That’s not for you to worry about.” With that, Sophie lifted her dress and gracefully made her way to the stage, her head held high.
Watching Sophie’s poised demeanor, Rola felt a sudden wave of unease. Could Sophie have another composition after all? If her scheme failed, Sophie would certainly strike back. She could tolerate anyone else winning, but not Sophie.
Panic rising, Rola pushed through the crowd to her bodyguards. “Hey, come over here. I need you to take care of something.”
The bodyguards immediately obeyed, stepping forward with ingratiating smiles.
Rola whispered instructions to one of them, her expression smug and malicious.
“Don’t worry. We’ll get it done,” the bodyguard assured her.
Unbeknownst to them, Leila had witnessed everything from the shadows. Her eyes showed no surprise, only a cold glint.
As Sophie sat at the piano, preparing to play, nerves fluttered in her stomach. She was just a teenager, after all. Maintaining her composure for that long was already a sign of her resilience.
At the thought of her own hard work being stolen, Sophie’s fingers trembled slightly, sweat beading on her forehead as the enormity of it all hit her.
The murmurs from the audience only added to the pressure.
“Who does that child belong to? She’s such a lovely young girl. Is she feeling too nervous?”
“Wait, don’t you recognize her? She’s the piano prodigy from that viral video!”
In the bustling crowd, the remark was made, setting off a rapid chain of reactions like a spark igniting a wildfire. Tensions rose as the discussion about Sophie turned more and more fiery.
“Is this girl really that prodigy? I’ve seen the clip and I’m eager to see her perform.”
“But how genuine can that video be? It’s hard to believe someone so talented at the piano remains unnoticed. Quite odd.”
“Between her and Rola, who do you think is better?”
“Each shines in her own way. Rola’s melodies are breathtaking, though her execution falls short. Sophie, on the other hand, dazzles with her technique. Imagine if they joined forces.”
“Rola’s talent in composing is undeniable. But Sophie? It’s anyone’s guess whether that video was a mere performance.”
Elma, overhearing the idle talk, clenched her fists, her irritation mounting. “They don’t know what they’re talking about! My sister’s piano skills are unmatched. They’re just spewing baseless rumors.”
Calvin, usually so composed, bristled with annoyance. “Their chatter is unbearable. I need to find a way to silence them.”
Elma cast a worried glance at Sophie, who remained still. “Calvin, do you think she’s troubled by their words? She seems so distressed.”
Calvin said nothing, his gaze icy as he watched those who scoffed the loudest.
Just then, Sophie lifted her head, her gaze sweeping over the crowd. Spotting Elma and Calvin, she offered a reassuring smile, her eyes alight with warmth.
“Sophie!” Elma burst out, unable to hold back her joy as she jumped up, waving vigorously.
From behind, a voice grumbled, “Who’s that child? So disruptive. Clearly, she’s not used to settings like this.” As soon as the words slipped out, the speaker felt a cold dread wash over him. He turned to find himself under Calvin’s chilling stare, which left him rattled, muttering under his breath, “This kid’s glare is pretty daunting, having such a fierce look at such a young age.” Elma’s beaming smile and subtle encouragement melted Sophie’s anxiety away.
With a deep, steadying breath, Sophie embraced Leila’s encouraging words. The musical piece belonged solely to her. Shame had no place here.
Claiming her right to perform her own creation, Sophie breathed in deeply once more, her graceful fingers poised above the piano keys.
When Sophie played the first note, a breathtakingly celestial sound enveloped the room.
The previously unsettled audience fell silent, utterly mesmerized by the melody. Some attendees recognized the tune as the one Rola had played earlier. Yet, before their confusion could transform into vocal doubt, the profound emotional depth of Sophie’s performance rendered them speechless.
As Sophie delved deeper into the piece, vivid memories of her family enveloped her, enhancing her connection to the music that was dedicated to them.
It was clear that Sophie, imbued with genuine sentiment, was the true vessel for this composition.
The crowd was spellbound, listening with deep admiration as the music unfolded.
Sophie’s rendition elevated the piece, distinguishing it distinctly from Rola’s earlier performance. It was as if Sophie had unlocked the very essence of the composition. Meanwhile, backstage during an interview, Rola was visibly shocked by Sophie’s audacity, her mouth hanging open. Was Sophie out of her mind? She had already played this piece. Why did Sophie play it again?
Concerned about being overshadowed and accused of copying, Rola blurted out, “Did you see that? The performer after me just played my piece! She’s claiming my creation as her own. That’s plagiarism! This is outright cheating!”
Her voice rose in protest, but it was lost in the void, ignored by all around.
Everyone was captivated by Sophie’s performance, their eyes shimmering with a touch of magic. The music was so mesmerizing that even if it had been a copy, it still held their attention.
Some began to doubt whether Rola was truly the creator. If it was indeed her composition, why then did her rendition not stir the emotions as deeply as Sophie’s?
Ignored by all, Rola started to feel desperate. She couldn’t just stand by and watch Sophie overshadow her. Luckily, she had a backup plan. Her accomplices were bound to be close.
Comforted by this thought, Rola relaxed, watching Sophie with a derisive sneer. Did Sophie really believe she could outshine her?
As the moment for her scheme to unfold drew near, Rola’s anxiety surged, her palms clammy with sweat.
Imagining the piano cutting off, leaving Sophie embarrassed and silent on stage, Rola couldn’t help but snicker.
However, as the clock moved closer to the finale, Sophie’s performance continued without a hitch.
“How can this be?” Rola’s grin stiffened, disbelief painting her face. Had her accomplices messed up the job? Incompetent fools! They couldn’t even manage one simple task.
Rola was still young, prone to losing her cool under pressure.
Determined, Rola made up her mind to confront Sophie directly. Hoisting up her dress, she hurried toward the stage. But just before Rola could step onto it, a hand gently grasped her shoulder.
“Where are you rushing off to?”
The recognizable voice sent a chill through Rola. Turning around, she saw Leila.
Sophie had just concluded her performance brilliantly. The audience momentarily fell silent, then burst into a massive round of applause.
Sophie’s performance had been genuinely touching, pulling the spectators deeply into its emotional grasp. Tears welled up in the eyes of many, touched by the depth of feeling.
Yet, a wave of skepticism washed over others.
“Regardless of her skill, it’s still plagiarism.”
“Exactly. Copying someone else’s work at her age? What will she become later on?”
“Do you people even care about what’s right? We can’t let kids think this is fine.”
As criticisms grew sharper, the initial wave of applause dwindled, overtaken by a growing realization of the controversy. Praise turned to doubt, and the mood shifted as some began to lob insults toward Sophie.
Sophie, prepared for such backlash, stayed calm. She cleared her throat and firmly addressed the audience, “The piece I played today is indeed identical to Rola’s. However, I did not plagiarize. I assert it as my original work! For those who doubt, I have my drafts ready, and I welcome any expert verification.”
Sophie stood with assertiveness. Not a hint of nerves flickered across her face.
Sophie’s calm presence on stage erased the audience’s doubts. Rola may have performed first, but that didn’t mean she was the composer.
Moreover, Sophie’s performance was clearly superior, her passion and dedication shining through. She must have poured countless hours into perfecting it. Rola, on the other hand, was not proficient with the piece. If Rola had indeed composed it herself, why hadn’t she perfected it before stepping onto the stage?
Catching sight of the audience’s reactions, Sophie felt a quiet wave of relief wash over her. But the job wasn’t done. Now, she needed hard evidence to prove she was the piece’s true composer. Her mother was right. Facing challenges head-on was the only way forward. Turning away from this confrontation would only put her at a disadvantage.