A affluent businessman coerced a black waitress into playing the piano to belittle her, but as her fingers met the keys, the room was struck silent in amazement… 

I play piano sometimes, she said softly, hoping to keep it brief. Leonard’s eyes lit up, and a sly smile curled across his lips. A pianist, huh? How fascinating.

Why don’t you give us a little performance? Deborah froze. The room seemed to quiet, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Oh, I couldn’t, she said quickly, forcing a nervous laugh.

I’m just here to work tonight. But Leonard wasn’t about to let it go. Nonsense, he declared, his voice booming.

There’s a piano right there in the corner. Show us what you’ve got. Surely a future star like you isn’t afraid of a little audience.

His companions chuckled, clearly enjoying the show. Other diners turned their heads, curious about the commotion. Deborah’s chest tightened.

She could feel the heat of their stares, the silent judgment waiting to unfold. She wanted to say no, to walk away, but Leonard’s challenge hung in the air, daring her to rise to it, or crumble under its weight. I really shouldn’t, Deborah stammered, glancing around for support.

But even her seemed hesitant to intervene. Leonard leaned back in his chair, sipping his scotch with a smirk. Ah, I see, he said mockingly.

All talk, no talent. That’s disappointing. The words hit like a slap.

Deborah’s hands clenched at her sides. She wasn’t one to seek confrontation. But the way he dismissed her, like she was a joke, a nobody, cut deeper than she expected.

Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind. Never let anyone make you small, Deborah. You’re bigger than they’ll ever know.

A moment of silence stretched between them. Deborah glanced at the piano, then back at Leonard. His smug expression dared her to take the bait, and against her better judgment she did.

Fine, she said, her voice steady but low. I’ll play. The room bristled with anticipation as Deborah walked toward the piano, each step carrying the weight of both fear and defiance.

The dining room seemed to hold its breath as Deborah approached the gleaming grand piano. The soft glow of the chandelier above cast a spotlight on her, isolating her from the murmuring crowd. Her fingers trembled as she slid onto the bench, the polished keys gleaming like a challenge waiting to be met.

Behind her, Leonard leaned back in his chair, the picture of smug satisfaction, as though he had already won whatever game he was playing. Deborah closed her eyes for a moment, steadying her breath. Her heart pounded so loudly she could barely think.

This wasn’t the church recitals or the cozy community gatherings she’d once known. This was different. This was hostile.

But there was no turning back now. She placed her hands on the keys, feeling their cool surface beneath her fingertips. The first notes were soft, hesitant, almost fragile.

A few diners shifted in their seats, and someone coughed in the back of the room. Deborah ignored them, her focus sharpening as she leaned into the music. She chose a piece she knew by heart, a soulful rendition of Claire de Lune by Debussy…