Johnny won a big football tournament, with his team, the Eaplo R.A.T.S, had fought hard and emerged victorious. Not only that, but he had been named Player of the Tournament, an honor that filled him with pride. As a reward, the tournament organizers gave him a ticket to The Shard in London, allowing to bring one guest. Without hesitation, he turned to his little brother George, and asked if he wanted to join him.
They had been to The Shard before, taken there by their parents when they were younger. Those memories were some of the happiest of their childhood, and now, they were eager to relive the experience.
As they walked around, marveling at the breathtaking view, Johnny noticed a white grand piano placed for visitors to enjoy. A wave of nostalgia hit him—his parents had always encouraged him to practice daily when he was younger. Unable to resist, he started playing a tune from his childhood. Moments later, George, an equally talented pianist, joined in, playing the same melody but a couple of octaves lower. The song wasn’t extremely complex, but the way the four hands performed it—with enthusiasm and an incredible sense of musician and showmanship—drew a crowd. Passersby stopped, took pictures, and recorded videos of the impromptu duet, mesmerized by their harmony.
After their spontaneous performance ended, the brothers continued exploring The Shard. But suddenly, as Johnny stepped backward to take a photograph, he accidentally bumped into an elegant young lady. Quickly, he turned around and apologized in the kindest manner possible.
She smiled and said, “Hey, your piano playing is freaking awesome!”
“Thank you very much!” He replied, grinning. “Do you play yourself?”
“Well, I used to,” she admitted. “When I was a child, I had an elderly piano teacher, but she only wanted me to play classical music. I wanted to play cool songs like you guys did, but she was a strict classical pianist, so I lost interest and gave up.”
Johnny shook his head. “That’s a shame. I hope you take it up again at some point.”
She tilted her head playfully. “Well, I might… Are you giving lessons?”
Johnny, caught off guard by her wit, chuckled. “Are you implying that you want lessons from me?”
She smirked. “I might.”
“I’ve never officially given lessons, but I did teach my little sister,” he said. “I could probably give you some advice. Where are you based?”
” Transylvania. Romania,” she answered.
Johnny’s eyes widened. “Oh, really? Whereabouts in Transylvania? I was there when I was younger— for a team for a couple of weeks.”
“You’re kidding! How come?” she asked, intrigued.
“We were on holiday visiting my father’s family,” he explained. “My aunt was celebrating her 70th birthday, in a place called Desăg close to Odorheiu Secuiesc.”
Her jaw dropped. “You’re joking! That’s where I’m from Székelyudvarhely!”
His face lit up. “Then you speak Hungarian, don’t you?”
“Of course!” she replied, switching languages.
And just like that, their conversation continued in Hungarian, surprising the people around them. They chatted for a while, laughing over the coincidence, until he finally asked, “Would you like to exchange contacts?”
She nodded, and they did. Afterward, they went their separate ways, each heading to a different level of The Shard.
The young lady, whose name was Klarika, continued walking with her parents. Suddenly, her father, who happened to be the coach of Odorheiu Secuiesc Football Club—a team that had spent most of its history in the third tier of Romanian football—bumped into an old acquaintance: the head coach of Steaua București. The two men shook hands and began chatting, catching up on life and football.
It was pure coincidence that both families had traveled to London during the April school holidays and had unexpectedly crossed paths in The Shard.
As the coaches talked, their wives and daughters got to know each other. Klarika and the daughter of the Steaua București manager struck up a conversation about their experiences at The Shard. Eventually, the topic shifted to the impressive piano show performed by the two lads on the piano. Klarika mentioned that she had exchanged social media contacts with the older boy.
The younger girl’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Really? Can I have his handle? I’d like to talk to his brother.”
After their meal together, the families went their separate ways, returning to their hotel rooms.
That night, just before bedtime, Klarika’s father asked curiously her about the “mixed-race boy” she had been chatting with at The Shard.
She explained how they had accidentally bumped into each other and how he was not only a great pianist but also a fantastic showman.
Her father nodded. “That’s impressive. What else did you talk about?”
“Well, I was just checking his social media, and he’s a football player too,” Klarika said, handing her phone to her father. “Check out these videos.”
Being a football coach, her father was naturally intrigued. He began scrolling through Johnny’s highlights and was somewhat impressed.
“Wow,” he muttered, watching in fascination.
Then, an idea struck him. “Send him a message. Ask if he has a game coming up. Maybe I can go watch him play while we’re here in London.”
Klarika did as he asked, messaging Johnny.
To her surprise, he responded quickly.
“Yes, actually, I have a game in a couple of days. But why do you ask?”
She replied, “My father is a football fanatic, and he’d like to see you play.”
Johnny was intrigued. “Okay, that’s interesting! Here’s the address—tell him to come along.”
Klarika’s father attended the match, while his wife and her went sightseeing in the city.
Unfortunately, the game turned out to be a disaster. Johnny’s team performed poorly, and even though he scored the opening goal, he suffered injury just minutes later and had to be substituted. There lost 6:3 and there was nothing impressive left to watch.
Adding to the unfortunate circumstances, Johnny had never seen Klarika’s father in real life and didn’t know he was there. Frustrated and disappointed by his injury, he left the ground immediately after being substituted, missing the chance to meet him in person.
Fate had brought them together once, but now, it seemed, it had pulled them apart just as quickly.