The child smiled.
"Then maybe."
Lena looked toward her.
For a moment, she seemed equally nervous.
Then she offered to practice together.
Soo-bin nodded.
And just like that, the upcoming performance became something both girls were looking forward to rather than something adults had demanded.
The community event had been planned long before Nia became famous.
Every autumn, East River Music House organized a small concert to celebrate students' progress and raise funds for instruments, scholarships, and building repairs.
The event was usually modest.
Parents brought homemade food.
Local musicians volunteered.
And students performed everything from beginner piano exercises to ambitious arrangements that didn't always go according to plan.
This year, however, interest was unusually high.
The video from Haneul had brought attention to the center, and several people contacted Sun-hee asking whether they could attend or contribute.
The director was cautious.
She didn't want children treated as props in a viral story.
She also didn't want a crowded event to overwhelm students who were already nervous about performing.
So the board decided to keep the gathering focused on the program.
Tickets were limited.
Recording required consent.
And contributions were accepted through transparent channels connected to the center's existing nonprofit structure.
Nia supported the decision.
She wanted the children to be proud of their work, not frightened by strangers expecting a dramatic performance.
Min-jae respected the boundaries.
He arranged to attend as a guest rather than sponsor a spectacle.
Holloway received an invitation as well.
For several days, he didn't respond.
Then Elaine told Nia he planned to come.
The news made her uneasy.
She hoped he understood that the concert wasn't another opportunity to negotiate in front of an audience.
It belonged to the students.
And for once, the adults needed to listen.
The concert began at seven on a cool Saturday evening.
The performance hall at East River Music House looked more beautiful than it had in years. Sun-hee had arranged strings of warm lights along the walls, volunteers decorated the entrance with paper flowers, and an elderly retired carpenter repaired the loose boards near the stage so the students could move safely.
The room was full.
Parents sat beside grandparents.
Neighbors crowded the back rows.
And several former students returned to support the place where they'd first learned to perform.
Nia stood near the stage wearing a simple burgundy dress, her long box braids gathered loosely behind her shoulders.
Denise sat in the front row beside Malik.
Her mother had insisted on attending, even though long evenings still tired her.