Songs Only We Know

Between Los Angeles and Tokyo, our hearts remain in sync, beating to the same rhythm. In the stillness of the morning, a gentle humming drifted from his music room— Peri’s Scope, flowing softly from his lips. Drawn in by the sound, my heart began to dance. As we drove to the Huntington Library, the melody followed us— through the paths lined with blooming flowers, beneath the soft-filtered light of the bamboo tunnel, that same tune floated gently in the air. When we finally reached that special bench, and I sat down beside him, music spoke the words we didn’t need to say aloud. “I love you”— not yet spoken, but already alive in his voice, in every note, every look, every silence shared. Even now, that melody lingers quietly inside me. Jazz still sits beside me—just like he does.