Giancarlo sat down at the keyboard, and with Antonella standing by his shoulder, his heart pounding, he began to play. It was the first time that he had ever performed for just her alone, and he played with all the passion and intensity he could summon. All the while, despite how lost in the music he became, he was conscious every second of Antonella by his side, watching and listening to him.When he finished, Giancarlo sat back and waited for her reaction, afraid to turn around and face her. At first Antonella said nothing, and he was sure that the music had not pleased her, but then he heard her give a little sigh.

“That was wonderful,” she told him. “What do you call it?”

“Sonatina in A,” he replied with a shrug, still looking down at the keyboard. “It’s sort of a base for a much longer piece I want to compose someday. Did you really like it?”

“I loved it,” she said.

It was then that Giancarlo decided that the moment had come.

“I’m glad,” he told her, “because, you see, I wrote it for you.”

He turned and looked up at her. Antonella gazed back, a teardrop glistening on her cheek.

“For me?” she said barely above a whisper.

“I write everything for you,” Giancarlo said.

With that he pushed away from the piano and stood. Antonella, her eyes suddenly full of torment and confusion, at first backed away, but Giancarlo reached out and gently took her by the shoulders, and she did not resist.

“I love you, Antonella,” he confessed to her at long last, the words pouring out of him like the music he played. “I have loved you from the very first moment I saw you, since before time began. I love you, and I live and breathe for you, every second of every day, but I cannot go on living another moment without your knowing it, and without your telling me that you love me, too.”

“Giancarlo,” Antonella whispered helplessly, dropping the jersey. “Please—”

Giancarlo did not let her finish, but instead swept her trembling body into his embrace.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he said desperately, bringing his face close to hers. “Tell me that you do not love me, and I swear I will go away forever.”

The tears streaming down her face, Antonella shook her head and went weak in his arms.

“Tell me!” he insisted, pulling her closer. “Tell me that you do not love me!”

“I can’t, Giancarlo,” Antonella cried at last in despair.

At those words, Giancarlo felt the very heavens open up inside of him, such was his ecstasy.

“But Giancarlo, you must know something—” she tried to go on.

“There’s nothing more that I need to know,” he told her.