The classmates each took a moment to express their support. “We hope she gets better soon,” they said.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Marie,” one said  “I wish it were under better circumstances. As you said, he was indeed a real friend—always there to help.”

“He was such a kind person,” the other added. “His friend told us he often went back to the primary school he studied at to teach kids how to play the violin. He was really talented—I was amazed when he played for us before.”

Marie’s face brightened slightly, her pale color easing. “The violin has been his passion since childhood. He was always thrilled to show others its magic. He was over the moon when a little girl’s parents allowed him to teach her. He told me he was sure she would grow up to be a world-renowned violin soloist. Even on his last breaths, he worried about the violin.” Her sighs seemed to make the room heavier, more somber.

“Would it be possible to tell us what happened? We just know he passed away but have no details,” one of the classmates asked gently.

Marie nodded, composing herself. “You know he lived in that old building. Although it’s summer, he hadn’t come back home. He had rehearsals and didn’t want to be late, since transport from the performing arts center is slow. The building had an old, poorly maintained electrical system. A fire started and burned most of it. He called me before he passed away. I could hear his heavy breathing. I knew something had happened, but when I asked him, he didn’t answer clearly—he only repeated the words ‘violin’ and ‘luthier.’

“After learning about the accident, I knew he would feel lonely without his violin. So I went to the luthier’s workshop to find it. The city has only one workshop, and the owner recognized me immediately, since I had been bringing Charlie there for repairs since he was a child. I brought the violin back to his room and told him I had done so when I visited him yesterday.”

And so, the deeply cherished violin remained in the room, waiting for its owner. Slowly, it lost its luster: the wood dried and turned brittle, the strings rusted and lost tension. The instrument that had been Charlie’s sanctuary never again had the chance to sing under his hands. 

Yet even in silence, his music lived on. On his laptop, the mirror duet he had composed for his student remained untouched, a perfect reflection of his passion, precision, and love for the violin. The piece would be the first she would play in his honor, carrying forward his spirit and dedication. Every note echoed Charlie’s guidance, his mentorship, and the joy he had poured into every lesson.

Though he was gone, his music endured—silent, yet alive in the hearts of those he had taught.