Chapter 1223 What Are You Really Thinking?
Stella began by practicing alone for a while, then coaxed Emeric into playing a piece for Randy, hoping to receive his personal guidance.
Randy obliged with characteristic patience.
Within just thirty minutes, Emeric's playing underwent a remarkable transformation—a quantum leap in quality that left everyone astounded.
Stella draped herself across the piano lid, chin propped on her palm, gazing at Emeric with undisguised adoration while offering periodic words of encouragement.
As they prepared to leave that evening, Emeric couldn't stop expressing his gratitude.
"Randy, I can't thank you enough. I'd been hitting a wall for weeks—nothing felt right no matter how hard I tried. Your guidance tonight helped me break through completely!"
For years, countless musicians had sought Randy as a mentor, only to face rejection. Randy had made his position crystal clear: he would rather remain teacherless for life than settle for an unsuitable student. Every pianist worth their salt would have killed for his approval, yet none had caught his eye.
While formal apprenticeship remained elusive, even a few words of guidance from Randy was worth more than a decade of solitary practice.
"No need for such formality. It's getting late—let me drive you home," Randy offered with his characteristic gentle smile.
Emeric was about to accept, eager to continue their musical discussion during the ride, when Stella jumped in with barely contained excitement. "I'll take him! Randy, you should head home and rest—it's been a long day."
She punctuated her words with meaningful glances in Randy's direction.
Randy, well aware of her ulterior motives, allowed a flicker of amusement to cross his features. "Drive safely and come straight back. You have an early class tomorrow."
"Absolutely! I know my limits," Stella replied, flashing him an enthusiastic thumbs-up before whisking Emeric away.
Randy drove home alone through the quiet streets.
The moment he stepped through his front door, something flew directly at his head. His reflexes kicked in, and he caught it smoothly—an apple.
Charles's teasing voice echoed from the living room: "Your dinner! Hannah and I just picked these up—they're washed and ready. Give it a taste!"
Randy bit into the fruit and immediately regretted it, his face contorting as the sourness nearly stripped the enamel from his teeth.
Seeing his pained expression, Charles burst into laughter. "Isn't it sour? I still can't chew properly! Hannah's pregnancy cravings have turned our entire fruit bowl into a collection of mouth-puckering torture devices."
Despite his usual aversion to waste, Randy managed only one more bite before surrendering the apple to the trash can. Better to waste fruit than teeth, he reasoned.
Just as Randy was heading upstairs for a much-needed shower, Charles intercepted him, steering him toward the couch.
"Stella's mother mentioned that Emeric joined tonight's practice session. You heard him play—what's your assessment?"
Randy regarded his brother with amused bewilderment. "Since when did you become such a gossip? You're worse than Hannah."
As if summoned by her name, Hannah emerged from the bedroom, enthusiastically devouring one of the offending apples with apparent relish.
"Guilty as charged! I put Charles up to this," she admitted cheerfully. "Stella's mother called earlier, fishing for information about Emeric—wondering if he might be Stella's boyfriend. That's when we learned she'd brought him home tonight! I'm musically illiterate, but you're the expert. What's your read on his abilities? I've heard you can gauge someone's character through their playing—what kind of person is he?"
Her rapid-fire questioning hung in the air expectantly.
Randy's response was characteristically concise: "Character assessment aside, he won't make it far in the music world."
While Emeric was indeed a music major, their brief interaction had revealed everything Randy needed to know. The young man's passion was genuine but ultimately insufficient.
Emeric lacked natural talent—a deficit that could be overcome with exceptional teaching and relentless practice, provided one had the resources. Unfortunately, Emeric possessed none of these advantages. No innate ability, no distinguished mentors, every spare moment consumed by part-time jobs rather than practice, and a family budget that couldn't accommodate renowned instructors.
Even his enrollment at D University's music program offered little hope—it was an underfunded department with faculty who barely registered in professional circles.
Given these circumstances, longevity in the field seemed highly improbable. However, Randy's upbringing had instilled a distaste for speaking ill of others behind their backs.
Hannah pressed further, anxiety creeping into her voice: "Why won't he succeed? Is he simply untalented, or do you think he's using music as a pretext to get close to Stella?"
"You're overthinking this, Hannah. His love for music is absolutely genuine."
Before Hannah could continue her interrogation, Randy excused himself, citing exhaustion, and retreated to his room.
Hannah started to follow, but Charles gently restrained her. "Relax. Stella's my cousin—we won't let anything happen to her. I've investigated Emeric's entire lineage. He's harmless."
Hannah finished her apple with gusto before tossing the core. "Damn right. If he hurts my girl, he'll answer to me."
Charles chuckled at her fierce protectiveness, guiding her back to their bedroom.
After his shower, Randy lay staring at the ceiling, sleep proving elusive. His phone chimed with an incoming message.
The Facebook notification was from Stella: [Home safe! About to shower and crash. Sweet dreams, Randy!]
A smile tugged at Randy's lips. The thoughtful girl had remembered to check in.
His fingers moved across the screen: [Sweet dreams.]
No reply came, but somehow Stella's message had a soporific effect. Randy shifted onto his side and drifted off almost immediately.
This pattern continued for the next two weeks—Stella bringing Emeric for daily practice sessions, with Randy's guidance producing increasingly impressive results in the young man's playing.
Finally, Randy reached his breaking point.
After Emeric's departure one evening, he confronted Stella directly, "Stella, what exactly are you thinking?"
Stella blinked in confusion, caught completely off-guard by his directness.
"Randy, what do you mean?"
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