If you can touch it, I’ll marry you.

Those words came from the mouth of a woman who believed that money gave her the right to humiliate anyone.

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It all began in an elegant meeting where politicians, businessmen and heirs to large fortunes filled the room.

Among them, a young millionaire who enjoyed attracting attention with her absurd bets and haughty laugh.

In front of the large grand piano, she pointed to the man who discreetly cleaned a corner.

It was Samuel the janitor, a quiet man, dressed in his blue uniform, who never looked for trouble, but whom everyone saw as invisible, until he decided to approach.

“You,” she said, pointing at him with a mocking gesture.

“Let’s see if he can make us smile by playing that, although of course, your talent must be different, right?” The phrase was accompanied by laughter and complicit looks from his friends.

Samuel hesitated for a moment.

He had not sat in front of a piano for years and not for lack of love for music, but because life had taken him down paths where art did not pay the bills.

He approached with firm steps, but without looking up.

He placed his hands on the keys, feeling the cold ivory under his fingers.

He tried to touch, but his hands were stiff.

The murmur of mockery surrounded him like an uncomfortable echo.

“Don’t worry, it’s not an exam, it was heard between laughs.

Although if you fail, don’t worry, you will still clean the floor afterwards.

The humiliation was so evident that some present looked away, uncomfortable, but without intervening.

The first few notes were clumsy, as if his fingers were searching for a lost memory.

The millionaire leaned forward tapping the piano with a finger while laughing.

Wow, your talent is to make us laugh.

I can’t even get angry.

The group burst into laughter celebrating the moment as if it were a prepared show.

Samuel took a deep breath, trying not to let anger cloud his judgment.

He knew that any word of his would be used against him, but what no one knew was that Samuel, before becoming a janitor, had played on important stages, accompanying singers and orchestras.

Years ago, a personal tragedy had made him leave everything.

That night, however, something inside him began to awaken.

His fingers began to move more confidently as he recalled old exercises, scales he had practiced for hours in his youth.

The group, however, did not notice it.

They kept talking about how funny it was to see a simple employee try to fit into a world that they claimed didn’t belong to them.

Come on, I’m sure your forte is the mop,” joked one of the men, clinking his glass with that of the millionaire.

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At that moment, one of those present, an old man with a shrewd look and an impeccable suit, was watching him more carefully than the rest.

There was something about Samuel’s posture, in the way he began to press the keys, that was familiar.

He said nothing, but leaned forward, ceasing to smile like the others.

Samuel, meanwhile, felt his heart pounding and the tension in his hands beginning to disappear.

The millionaire got up from her seat, walked towards him and with a provocative smile she let go of the challenge again.

I repeat, if you can touch it, I’ll marry you.

Although seeing how you are doing, I don’t think that moment will come.

The laughter came back louder, more hurtful.

Samuel closed his eyes, ignoring every word, every gesture of mockery, concentrating only on the keys under his fingers.

When he was about to attempt a more complex piece, the group moved even closer.

surrounding it as if they expect to see it fail again.

The pressure was suffocating.

The murmur of their laughter mingled with the distant memory of applause from another time.

And Samuel felt an impulse he hadn’t experienced in years, just at the moment when the millionaire, in a cold voice, said something that would completely change the atmosphere.

“Let’s see, surprise us if you can.

Samuel opened his eyes slowly, letting the heavy silence between the taunts break with a firm first chord.

His fingers, now more confident, began to move with a contained rhythm, like someone who measures each step before a decisive race.

However, the laughter did not stop.

Someone even mimicked his movements by exaggerating gestures, provoking louder laughter.

The millionaire, with her arms crossed, bowed her head with a mocking smile.

“Come on, that’s it,” he insisted.

If you’re going to surprise me, you’d better do it before the wine runs out.

The atmosphere was against him and he knew it.

A single misplaced note would be a cause for eternal humiliation.

The tension increased when one of the young people present, with obvious contempt, approached the piano and without permission, pressed several keys at random, interrupting the incipient melody.

“Look, it sounds better that way,” he said with a laugh.

Samuel felt a knot in his stomach, but he didn’t take his hands off the instrument.

He knew that if he stood up or argued, he would lose not only the opportunity to shut them up, but also the last connection to the piano he had loved so much.

The millionaire laughed loudly, celebrating the young man’s gesture as if it were all a show staged to entertain her.

The old man watching from the background took a step forward, but a man next to him put a hand on his shoulder as if to suggest that he not intervene.

Samuel, surrounded by a circle of laughter and murmurs, took a deep breath and played again, but this time faster, as if he wanted to force his hands to recall by heart.

However, the psychological pressure was relentless.

Every look, every whisper pushed him towards failure.

At that moment he felt that maybe they had been right, that maybe his talent was nothing more than a broken memory.

When it seemed that he was going to give up, a deep voice was heard from the background.

Give them something they can’t forget.

Samuel looked up and saw the old man staring at him with a seriousness that could not be discussed.

That look awakened something in him, a pride that had been dormant for years.

The millionaire frowned at the interruption, but said nothing.

His interest was now mixed with a slight intrigue.

Samuel closed his eyes again and let his fingers rest gently on the keys.

The change was almost imperceptible at first.

The notes began to flow more freely, joining chords with a precision he hadn’t shown before.

The murmur of mockery subsided slightly, as if the music was cutting off the words before they could come out.

The old man smiled barely, recognizing the technique and sensitivity behind each note.

The millionaire, although she still kept her mocking smile, no longer laughed.

Her eyes followed every movement of Samuel’s hands, as if something inside her was beginning to wobble.

With each bar, Samuel regained more confidence.

The music grew in intensity, transforming into a masterful interpretation of a piece that combined strength and sweetness.

Some of those present, without realizing it, stopped laughing and began to watch in silence.

Samuel’s hands moved with an elegance that only years of experience could give, and the room gradually filled with a different energy.

The tension was breaking, but not with shouting or arguing, but with the quiet power of his talent.

When he reached the most complex part of the piece, Samuel executed a passage so fast and clean that it elicited an involuntary exclamation from someone in the audience.

The silence became absolute.

No one dared to interrupt him now.

The millionaire had stopped smiling.

Her lips were parted, as if she couldn’t process what she saw.

The old man, with a satisfied look, nodded slowly, as if he saw a suspicion confirmed.

The last note echoed through the hall like a hammer blow, shutting down not only the piece, but also any doubts about his ability.

Samuel removed his hands from the piano and let them rest on his legs, looking straight ahead without seeking applause.

The first to react was the old man, who began to applaud with unexpected force.

Gradually, others followed suit, though some did so with obvious discomfort, knowing that they had witnessed their own mistake.

The millionaire remained motionless for a few seconds before looking away and forcing a smile.

“Well, it looks like I was wrong,” she said quietly, almost to herself.

The old man approached Samuel, shook his hand, and, looking at all present, declared, “This man is worth more than any of you, for what he has cannot be bought.

“And you guys should learn something today.

The silence that followed was more uncomfortable than any mockery.

Samuel woke up with his dignity intact and the certainty that although the wound of that night would remain, so would the memory of how he had recovered his voice through the piano.