I looked at the keys.
Mom’s voice returned to me with painful clarity.
Again, Elina.
This time with feeling.
I placed my hands on the piano.
I didn’t play for Grace.
I didn’t play for the executives who had stared at me after discovering that the woman carrying trays could do something they hadn’t expected.
I didn’t even play to prove that a diploma and talent were not the same thing.
I played because I wanted to.
Jack sat quietly beside me until the last note faded.
This time, when the room became silent, nothing exploded.
My brother was still there.
So was I.
And for the first time in years, that felt less like survival and more like a beginning.
