Noah's gift was unmistakably musical.
At seven, he could pick out melodies on the piano by ear. He composed simple pieces—nothing complex, but clearly his. Kai taught him formally, but Noah absorbed lessons faster than any student Kai had ever taught.
"He's gifted," Kai told Lina. "Really gifted. More than I was at his age."
"Because he has you. A father who nurtures it."
Kai shook his head. "He has it himself. I'm just guiding."
They watched Noah play, his small hands moving confidently across the keys.
"He'll be greater than me someday," Kai said quietly. "I can feel it."
"Maybe. Or maybe he'll just be himself—which is already pretty great."
Noah composed his first complete piece at eight.
He played it for them—simple, beautiful, full of childhood wonder. Lina cried. Kai cried. Noah looked confused.
"Why are you crying? It's just music."
"It's not just music," Lina explained. "It's YOU. Your heart, your soul, turned into sound. That's beautiful."
Noah considered this. "Oh. Okay." Then he ran off to play, leaving his parents emotional in his wake.
"He doesn't get it yet," Kai laughed. "But he will."