"You're right," David said simply. "I don't. But I'd like to."
The restaurant was so quiet now that Elena could hear the kitchen's refrigerator humming in the background. Everyone was watching this conversation like it was a movie, but Elena barely noticed them anymore. All her attention was focused on this man who had gone from insulting her to... what exactly was he doing?
"When I was your age," David continued, "I played piano, too. Not like you just did—I was never that good. But I loved it. I spent hours practicing, dreaming about maybe playing professionally someday."
Elena wasn't expecting this. "What happened?"
"Life happened. Business school, then my first startup, then success, then more success. I told myself I didn't have time for music anymore, that it wasn't practical." He looked toward the piano with something that might have been sadness. "I haven't touched a piano in fifteen years."
"So, why did you say those things about me?" Elena asked. "About people not having real talent?"
David was quiet for a long moment. "Because it's easier to believe that talent is rare and special than to admit you gave up on something you loved. Because if people like you exist, people who kept their gifts alive despite everything, then maybe I made the wrong choice."
The honesty in his voice surprised Elena. This wasn't the arrogant businessman from earlier. This was someone who suddenly seemed very tired and very human.
"Look," David said, reaching into his jacket pocket. "I made a bet earlier, and I lost fair and square." He pulled out his wallet and started counting bills. "I promised you the biggest tip you'd ever seen if you could play without making mistakes."
Elena watched as he counted out $100 bills—more money than she usually made in a month. But something about this didn't feel right.
"I don't want your money," she said quietly.