Amany sat quietly at the piano, her fingers moving across the keys.
For the first time that day, she wanted nothing but silence.
She let her fingertips fall against the ivory, allowing the melody to fill the room and reverberate through her body. She had recently begun studying music more seriously, trying to understand it beyond the surface and experiment with different instruments whenever she had the chance.
But her debut was approaching.
The recording of her first album had consumed nearly every free hour she had, leaving barely enough time for vocal training, let alone music lessons. So, for now, her studies had been put on hold.
She simply played.
The melody was improvised, melancholic without ever becoming truly sad.
Her emotions were a mess.
Frustration. Exhaustion. Anger.
Amany had also stopped checking the news and trending topics; she was tired of wasting time getting upset over what people said about her without knowing the truth.
