Hate and love aren't as opposite as we assume them to be. I have learned that I can, with the same intensity, be the happiest human being when Bianca lips lay on mine, or the most miserable one when her back is all she has let me see while leaving me behind.

I am walking alone on a dark night. Everything around me seems to be melting, walls are distorted, trees too bent, and the moon so close, as if I could touch it. 'Where am I?', I stammer while walking barefoot on a dirty, deserted road. Nothing around me seemed familiar, increasing my fear. Suddenly, breaking the silence, a sinister laugh terrified me, making me run to hide behind a stone. "So, you are the girl trying to take Bianca from me?" Again, the distraught laugh shocked me to hide my face. "You pretend to be this innocent girl, full of principles . . . but in the end, you are nothing more than a cheater . . . She will never love you as you expect.".

Silence. The stone that once protected me was now missing. Confused, I looked around, trying to find a way out of that bizarre street. Ruins of buildings and houses surrounded me, sucking all the air from my lungs. Walking as quickly as my legs allowed me, I saw Bianca far away away from me, playing piano, in a majestic auditorium. All eyes were on her, fascinated by her talent, clapping with all their heart as soon as she stopped. 'There she is', a spark of hope revives my heart, pushing me to run in her direction. Suddenly, the auditorium was becoming more and more distant. My feet tried to increase my velocity, 'nonsense' I yelled when I saw the auditorium nearly disappear in the horizon. 'Why can't I reach her?' Tears were now falling down my face, carrying all the pain squeezing my heart.

"OLIVIA!! Can you shut off this alarm? The whole house is now awake!"

Mia's voice brought me back from my hallucination. The desolate feeling was now lingering in my chest as an unforgettable memory, forcing me to gasp for any possible air. Bianca was untouchable for me, regardless of how much I desire her presence by my side, her life was always going to be miles away from my reality. Even if a miracle would allow her to want me, she would never be able to choose me over her career. I would also never forgive myself if our relationship forced her to.

'It's a dream. Everything was nothing more than a dream.' I sighed, rolling under the blankets, avoiding the shaft of the sunlight that invited me to embrace reality. Another memory took shape, sending me back to my grandpa's living room. The smell of cigarettes intruding each surface, followed by the sound of his piano and the sharp voice of one of his girlfriends. At that time, I wasn't worried about understanding the meaning behind the lyrics of the song, I only had eyes for his fingers on the keyboard and how the music just contaminated the air with an emotional melody. Years later, the same music was being played, and as a teenager, its lyrics resonated an intense passion, kind of too dramatic for my understanding. Now, however, it was almost like I was coming back home, driving through a familiar, old country road, full of nostalgic rhythms. Bianca's back in my dream now seemed to fit perfectly to Etta James's words, filling my soul with unique acquaintances, as if each word was written for us.

Whoo, so you see, I love you so much

That I don't wanna watch you leave me, baby

Most of all, I just don't, I just don't wanna be free, no

It's funny, this thing we call life, a type of a script, full of puzzles that fit together perfectly in unexpected succession to future occasions. Once again, the smile of my grandpa reminded me that New York meant much more than a broken heart for me, but an opportunity to accomplish dreams once dreamed by two. With that in mind, I started my day with a warm cup of coffee, a tight hug from my childhood best friend, and a heart warmed by old memories.

"Olivia, did you hear the news?"

One of my classmates, Renee, yelled at me as soon as my feet crossed the door of my next classroom. Without rushing, I organized my backpack on the back of my chair, looking at the girl's face while waiting for her to finish her phrase. In defeat, she held my arm, trying to contain her excitement into my skin.

"A freshman classical-music competition! The first place will win a trip to the Paris Conservatory of Music for a 2-week internship under the orientation of Ninette Dupont, the most distinguished contemporary violinist and musician."

"Ninette Dupont?" Now, I was joining her enthusiasm, both of us holding hands, almost spinning around the desks. "And it is only for freshman students? That's amazing!"

"Exactly! Professor Molina is organizing the competition, and she is also part of the judges, together with Professor Fischer and the famous violinist from the London Academy of Music, Gabriela Corbyn".

"Gabriela Corbyn? I am not familiar with her. Do you think she is going to be as strict as Professor Molina?"

Renee's laugh had such a hint of sarcasm that I wonder if I said something stupid.

"Well, the rumor is that she is a cold, kind of narcissistic, woman. Which make me wonder how it is possible for the two of them, with such strong personalities, to be in a relationship, especially about to get married."

Once more, the confusion on my face handed over my complete ignorance about what Renee was referring to.

"You didn't see the official announcement made by the director of our department last night? He congratulated Professor Molina for her engagement with Corbyn, which was received with some surprise for half of the students that didn't have a clue she was gay."

Did you ever listen to the character pieces The Seasons, Op. 37a, by Barcarolle? The suave melody, constantly interrupted by gothic notes, a mix of hope and despair? That was how I was feeling at that exact moment. Her engagement wasn't a surprise, but now it was official, and if I had any hope of her choosing me over her lover, it was now a fog on a warm morning. Now, the unknown woman had a name, Gabriela Corbyn, followed by a real presence that could cross my path at any second in this large hall. Can it get more real than that?

Excitement overflowed each studio's walls, accompanied by relentless notes in the search for its perfection. I was one of the souls that submerged their life into ferocious training, forgetting about feelings, tiredness. My fingers were in pain, my back was screaming for a break, but my heart kept begging for this distraction. I would think about them together in her living room, kissing close to her piano, as we did once. Or her hand opening Bianca's fridge with intimacy, as if she owned the place. Gabriela probably slept on Bianca's sheets, smelling Bianca's wooden scent. 'Insanity', I murmur to my piano, while diving into Jean Sibelius' music, "Impromptu Op. 5/6".

Sibelius' celestial opening brought me back to Bianca's smile, a rare view that I had the pleasure to witness, while melting my heart as if made of sugar. However, his cascading notes give way to a shy string, as when I could feel Bianca's hand holding my wrist in silence. A simple constant was now followed, inviting me to a syncopated Cello pedal, where its little momentum sent me back to her warm skin holding my hands. Those memories were now my training fuel, as if the more I play, with more intensity, it all could be forgotten.

Friday was here, with its perfect clock, no later or sooner. I successfully avoided Professor Molina during the week, which wasn't a hard task since she didn't try to contact me, text me, call me, nothing at all. After our last meeting, things were said, but also ignored. I felt as if I was on a border line, where crossing it would mean entering a completely new world. Staying, however, would mean to be kept frozen, as a statue, like a character in someone's old book that never saw the end of their own story.

"Good morning class" Bianca's voice was harsh and it did not take long for me to understand why.

"I would like to introduce to you Gabriela Corbyn, she will be joining our audition for the internship in London."

Bianca tried to ignore my presence, but we both knew it couldn't last long. Gabriela was a tall, black woman, with perfect curly hair and a big smile. She sent us the vibe of a composed woman that knows her talent and beauty, standing in front of a full classroom and speaking as we all were her friends. In contrast to Bianca, Gabriela wasn't scary, and she didn't sound intimidating; her voice was soft and delicate, though her presence could never be overlooked.

"It's my pleasure to be meeting all of you and having a chance to hear talented students like you all. Auditions will start next week, and we only have one position available, unfortunately. With that in mind, we will be looking for students with creative composition talent, not only high technical ability. We want you all to present your own composition, which could be a modification of a score, but must be enhanced with your own style."

That was unexpected. We all have been training classical music, refining our technique, but composition was another level. Whispers began to fill the room. Worried faces started bumping into my vision, no matter where I looked. Bianca was silent, but I could see she was trying hard to control a smile, enjoying how desperate we all look. 'She probably thinks we are all cute, naïve, freshman students if we thought such competition would be just based on who plays better', I thought while staring at her expression. No longer was I too lost in my divagation to feel Bianca's intense gaze on me. Her lips contracted in a distressed shape, while her eyebrows were pulled together.

"Professor Molina. I just want to congratulate you both for the engagement." A sycophant brought us both to the present, which just made all of it painfully real.

"Thank you all." Gabriela held Bianca's hand, while smiling deeply. All the girls started behaving like teenagers watching their favorite band's concert. All that overrated excitement upset my stomach. Suddenly, I was really nauseated, desperately in need for some fresh air, away from that affectionate scene. As smoothly as possible, I left the classroom, straight to the back patio, where I could sit under some trees and forget how Gabriela's stunning face smiled at Bianca.

'It's over, before even starting' I said to myself, convincing any molecules in me to accept that. Although the cold air erased all my sickness, I knew it was time to return to class as if nothing happened and continue my act as a dedicated student.

When I returned back to my seat, Gabriela was gone, and Bianca was giving a PowerPoint presentation about improvisational theory. For the remaining 50 minutes of class, I convinced my brain to focus on the lecture, forgetting who was behind that husky voice that always drives me crazy.

"We are finishing here today. Gook lucky in your audition training" Bianca said while packing her belongings. I knew she was going to keep ignoring me, as she did the past few days. So, it was my time to clear everything if I wanted to move forward.

"Congratulations," I said, my voice startling her.

"Olivia" A surprised tone enhanced by opened eyes, and she welcomed me to her desk.

"I knew that you were engaged, but now it seems official . . . somehow. I just . . ." In my head I had everything planned, what I was going to say, my tone, my indifferent posture, but none of that was working. Instead, I was stuttering, my hands were sweating, and my back kept bending as if the floor was the limit.

" I saw you also applied for the internship. that's good. I think . . . uh . . . you are a good candidate." Her hands were kept busy, packing her laptop, papers, and pens, as if she had a whole stationary store on her desk.

"That's it?" I was annoyed by her behavior.

She sighed while bringing her hand to her forehead. "What do you want from me?"

In a deep breath, for the first time since I moved to New York, I knew what I should do. "Nothing," I said. The sincerity in my tone made her finally look at me. "Bianca, I want you to be happy and this 'thing' between us is making us both miserable. It should not be like this, right? If it is hurting, it means that we should let it go."

"I am sorry, Olivia. I should be the wiser one here, knowing all the answers, but clearly, I don't. My life is more complicated than you can imagine and is not as simple as black and white. You are probably right about how it should not make you hurt. I don't want to hurt you . . . I actually hate that I can make tears fall from your beautiful eyes."

I smiled at her, and like that I walked away from that classroom.