It was a Tuesday, when she heard him play.

It was not at all a lie when Merida told Jack how much she wanted to hear him play the piano. Truth be told, it was probably one of the reasons why she decided to become friends with him at all. She was very much intrigued, and she unknowingly vowed that she would see for herself the legend that was Jack Overland, the pianist, even if it was the last thing she would ever do.

One day, as they were taking a stroll down the city streets, Jack and Merida passed by a music store with a baby grand piano displayed at the glass window. He was the first to notice it, and the moment he did, he wished he hadn't. Merida felt him stiffen beside her; she followed his gaze and saw the piano.

"Jack! Come on. Let's go inside, ask how much it costs," she exclaimed, tugging his arm excitedly as if she were a little girl interested in buying the most adorable puppy from a pet store.

"No. We have a movie to watch, remember?" Jack muttered impatiently as he pulled her hand forward but to no avail.

Merida's hands snaked around Jack's arm firmly to keep him by her side. She said in a slow and dramatic tone, "Look at it. Isn't it a beauty? With the perfectly polished black wood and it's smooth curves. And don't even get me started on those gleaming keys. You know you want to get your hands on it, Jack."

For a moment, she could have almost sworn that she had him, that he would have to give in. But something flashed in his eyes, so quickly that she would not have noticed it if she hadn't been looking at him.

"I'm not so easily seduced by a piano anymore, princess," he said before leaning to whisper in her ear, "But I already am by you."

Merida's face turned dangerously scarlet as she bit her lip. Jack winked slyly, which earned him a punch in the chest and Merida leaving him standing alone in the street.

Since that day, Merida took it upon herself to make Jack's dream come true, as he had obviously pushed it to the very back of his mind. A piano fund was started, with Merida dropping spare changes in it every day.

When she had become a mother, however, Merida became overwhelmed with her new responsibilities that she had forgotten about it, too. Then, she became pregnant a second time, and she became even busier.

A month shy of their twelfth anniversary, little Anna stumbled into her parents' bedroom while her mother cleared unnecessary clutter from the closet. Her sister was having ballet lessons that day so she had no one to play with. Her daddy was out buying grocery for her mommy.

There were only so many things that could keep an eight-year-old from getting bored before she started pestering the only companion she had in the house. Anna found her mother stooped down in front of the closet. The room was a mess and she had to dodge discarded hangers, piles of clothes and boxes to get to Merida.

Sensing her younger daughter's presence, Merida turned around briefly. "What are you doing here, my wee lamb? Shouldn't you be playing?"

"Can't I stay here and help instead?" the girl answered with a pout.

Merida sighed, knowing that without Elsa, Anna was always restless. "All right, just promise me you won't make a mess of things."

"I don't have to, Mommy. You already got that covered." And at that, both mother and daughter laughed.

Anna followed her mother's example and crouched down at the side of the bed. At first, all she could see was an army of dust bunnies positioned throughout the floor, but when she turned her eyes to the right, she found a small box behind a wall of cobwebs. As her limbs were not long enough to grasp the box, Anna had to drag her body under the bed to reach it. When she did, she let out a small, "Yes!" before running to the other side of the bed to where Merida was.

"Mommy! Mommy! Look what I found," she yelped eagerly, showing the grimy box in front of her.

Merida was surprised when she saw Anna's grubby face but was even more shocked when she saw the box in her hands. The words written at the top were covered in dust, but Merida already knew what was written on it.

For Jack.

And despite the fact that Anna's cheeks were smudged with gray in places, Merida planted butterfly kisses all over her daughter's face.

Instead of using the money stored inside to purchase the piano, Merida decided to use the money she received from her previous case. The spare changes she used to treat both Anna and Elsa in an attempt to bribe them to keep from telling Jack about her idea. The girls squealed and giggled, thrilled to be part of their mother's secret.

On the day of their anniversary, the couple was awakened by their daughters who clambered up on the bed beside them. It was not included in their mother's plan, but both their parents were delighted by the surprise. Then Merida winked at Elsa when Jack was being distracted by Anna, and the eleven-year-old nodded in understanding.

"Daddy!" she yelled before flinging her arms around Jack's neck to wrap a blue handkerchief over his eyes. Merida tied it securely in place.

"Hey! What are you three up to?" Jack said as he felt himself being led out of the bed and his hands being pulled forward.

"It's a secret," he heard Elsa say. "Oh and be careful with the stairs now."

Jack was glad of the warning and carefully made his way down.

"You'll tell Daddy, won't you, Annie?" he asked, leaning slightly to his left.

"Nah uh, Daddy," Annie squeaked, shaking her head rapidly.

"I guess that leaves me with—"

Merida poked his back. "Don't you know that patience is a virtue, frosty? Besides, we're almost there."

Jack continued walking yet stopped when he bumped into his daughters. He felt Merida's hands untying the knot at the back of his head.

"Happy anniversary, love," she murmured before letting the handkerchief fall from his eyes.

To say that Jack was startled was an understatement. The sight in front of him was quickly blurred by the tears that had made their way in his eyes.

"Daddy's crying," Anna said as she pointed at her father's tear-stained face. She and her sister instantly threw their tiny arms around him. Merida followed suit, embracing her husband from behind.

Jack let go to kiss the girls' foreheads and his wife's lips. "I bet you're the mastermind behind all of this, aren't you?" he said to Merida.

She laughed. "You're not a complete idiot after all."

A simple reminder:

It was not a Tuesday that day.

Many times after the instrument came to his home, Jack would sit on the soft cushion of the piano seat, feeling the ivories beneath his fingers. Not once did he play, neither did he even dare to press a single key. He would close his eyes and remember a memory from long ago—his mother lay in bed, dying a little more every day. Emma's eyes filled with tears, silently asking him what they—what he—would do to save her. He would walk away after that, unaware that Merida was watching him from the kitchen.

If she was disappointed that he did not seem to like her present, she never openly showed it. Elsa and Anna, however, were more obviously upset that their father still refused to play. It was when Anna had sat beside him during one of his episodes that Jack found the courage to try again. Father and daughter were alone in the house, and Anna wanted Jack to teach her how to play. Her eyes were as blue as Merida's, and she was as eager as he was when he had asked his own father. Before Jack knew it, he was pressing the keys, telling Anna what they're called. "This key is C. That's G," he would say.

"Will you play something for me, Daddy?" the little girl said when they were finished discussing the names of the keys.

Jack smiled, but he was nervous. What if he couldn't play anymore? What if the music had left him when his parents died? It was this fear more than anything else that had kept him from trying again. But he could not fail his daughter. He had to play something for her. So Jack thought of the first song that he learned from his father, and as if on impulse, his hands made their way to the keyboard.

Jack had his eyes closed so when he heard the familiar melody, his heart felt like bursting. He was dumbfounded but continued with the song. There were a few mistakes here and there, but Jack couldn't care less. The music was alive in him once more, as it was when he was young. Then he realized that it never died—only forgotten. He felt as if he had found a friend he thought was long lost.

The first thing Jack wanted to do now that he knew he could still play was express his gratitude to the person who reminded him of the passion he thought was gone. What better way, he thought, could he thank her than writing her a song of her own? So whenever he found the opportunity to be alone in the house, Jack would set out to write the very first song he would ever compose.

After close to a year, Merida woke up one night from a nightmare, only to find the other side of the bed empty. She bolted upright, opening the lamp on the nightstand to her right. Jack was nowhere to be found. Just as she was about to get out of bed, she heard soft music coming from somewhere in the house. She silently made her way out of the room and went to the top of the staircase. From above, she could see Jack in front of the piano; his hands appeared as if they were floating above the keys. But the music swayed and reached her, and she found herself enchanted by it. She climbed down the stairs, careful not to make a sound so as not to interrupt Jack. In the dim yellow light, he seemed ethereal, as if he were a ghost that had only come to serenade her back to sleep. Ward off the nightmares. She found that she could listen to him forever, even if he only played that one song.

Much to her utter disappointment, however, Jack stopped abruptly without even reaching the end of the song. After a full minute of silence, she decided to make her presence known. Merida stood up from her hiding place at the foot of the stairs.

"Not bad," she said, but that was a lie—he was brilliant.

"Merida!" Jack shouted, almost loud enough to wake up the children. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard you playing, and if I may recall, I gave you that piano months ago. Don't you think it was time for me to finally hear the great Jack Overland?" Merida said, walking over to him.

"I know, but I wished you didn't sneak up on me like that," he mumbled. He quickly took the sheets of paper sitting on the music rack and hid them by his feet.

Merida sat down beside him and let her fingers linger over the keys. "Why didn't you finish the song?"

Jack ran a hand through his hair. "It's not yet done," he stammered. "I mean, I'm still trying to remember it."

Luckily, Merida accepted his answer and asked for another song instead. Jack obliged, opting to play an old melody his father taught him. It was a slow piece, having a more morose tune than the first. Soon enough, Merida's eyelids felt heavy, and she was gently lulled to sleep. Jack made sure to finish the song first before turning to his sleeping wife whose head now rested on his shoulder. He kissed her hair then positioned himself to carry her back to their bed. Just as he was about to put her down, she smiled and whispered, "Thank you."