Carmina, six, lowers her violin.
“You’re destined for greatness,” says her instructor, her eyes misty.
A violin squeaks in the neighboring room. “No! Stop! You’re a hopeless cause.”
Carmina waits for Jin — gives Jin her bow. “It’s lucky,” she lies. “Keep practicing and you’ll be great.”
Years later, Carmina, eyes downcast, sulks beside her husband as the symphony plays; it’s a reminder of who she could’ve been.
A violin solo thaws her heart, its beauty moving her to tears.
Her eyes meet Jin’s; thousands listen, but the song is theirs.
