"How are you feeling, baby?" her mother asked—the same question she'd asked before every performance.
"Good," Maya said, and realized she meant it. "Nervous, but good. This feels right."
"Because it is right. This is who you're meant to be." Her mother came closer and adjusted the necklace Maya wore, the simple gold chain that had belonged to her grandmother. "She would be so proud of you. We all are."
"I couldn't have done any of this without you, Mom. You know that, right? You gave up so much to help me get started in music. You worked yourself to exhaustion so I could have lessons. This success is yours, too."
Her mother's eyes filled with tears, but she was smiling. "Watching you play, seeing you happy—that's all the success I need. Now go out there and show them what the Torres women are made of."
After her mother left, Maya had a few minutes alone. She thought about the viral video that had changed everything. It had over 20 million views now. People still referenced it, still shared it, still used it as an example of hidden talent or unexpected triumph or whatever narrative they needed that day.