He took a seat at the dusty velveteen bench placed in front of the piano, gingerly running his pale, spidery fingers along the jet and ivory of the keys. The coat of grime covering them was rather discouraging, but he pressed on nonetheless.

His dear wife, his beautiful Elizaveta, was seated on an elegant chaise on the opposite side of the room, a cheap romance novel in her hands, held open at the center. She was not reading it, though; she was merely looking for a distraction.

His funeral had been three years ago today, and she had yet to truly move on. She had remarried to an old friend of theirs some two months ago, but it seemed to be simply for show to the ghostly presence at the piano. Elizaveta loved Gilbert, yes, but not in the same way, or to the same level that she had loved her first husband.

The spirit at the piano believed it a bit arrogant to think so, but the fact that she had yet to dispose of his beloved piano seemed proof enough of the fact that she had yet to truly get over losing him.

Even from across the room, he could easily see her shoulders go stiff as he pressed down on one of the keys, its sweet, lilting tone permeating the room almost instantly.

The second that soft, sad smile crossed her lips, he knew that she was aware it was him.

"I miss you, Roderich." Her voice was barely audible, but her longing for him was plain as day.

"And I you."

But she could not hear him.

She could, however, hear the notes of the piano as he ran his ghostly fingers over them, playing out a series of soft, melancholy notes.

Elizaveta smiled again, though it was still tainted with sadness. "You're always here for me, aren t you?" She didn't sound at all pleased by that.

"Always."

"Oh, Roderich..."

He knew that tone, matching it with what had, at least in the days of their marriage, been her favorite piece.

Sighing once more, she leaned back into the chaise, closing her book and setting it aside. "Gloomy Sunday."

It was his turn to smile, though she could not see it.

"You still play beautifully." She gave a shaky sigh, tears pricking at the corners of her lovely emerald eyes. "You never did get around to teaching my how to play."

"And for that, I'm sorry."

"You know, Gilbert has actually been trying to learn to play, and he plans to teach me once he understands it. He thinks it'll help me to get over losing you." Her right hand darted up to catch a tear before it fell. "Somehow, I doubt it'll make any difference."

She could tell by the way the rhythm faltered ever so slightly that Roderich was not exactly thrilled by the idea of Gilbert taking up the piano.

"Don't worry," Elizaveta said, her voice a teasing lilt. "I won't let him play your piano. He's not even allowed in this room," she added.

"That's good, at least," Roderich said, though he knew she could not hear him. "He would-"

"Hey, Eliza!" It was Gilbert's voice, echoing from somewhere downstairs. "Dinner's done!"

"I'll be there in minute!" Elizaveta called back. "I know you don't like him, Roderich," she said softly, her eyes on the piano bench, "but he takes good care of me. I'm happy with him. And I'm sure the baby will be, too."

As he watched her leave the room, Roderich smiled.

It saddened him to know that Gilbert was the one who had given her the child she had always wanted, but in the end, he supposed it didn't matter.

His beloved Elizaveta was happy, and that was all he had ever wanted.