A Midnight Encounter

The afterparty at The Savoy was deafening with champagne flutes and artificial laughter. Liam stepped out onto the Thames balcony to escape the suffocating praise of record executives.

'You played the second movement faster than the Paris recording,' a quiet voice observed from the shadows.

Liam turned, surprised. A woman in a dark cashmere coat stood leaning against the stone balustrade, camera slung over her shoulder. 'Most critics don't catch the tempo variation,' Liam replied, a slight smile touching his lips.

'Most critics listen to the technique. I was listening to what you were trying to forget,' Maya said gently, looking out over the misty river.