The grand piano stood at the center of your penthouse's living room, its polished surface gleaming under the soft, ambient light. The cityscape of New York sprawled out beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, a picturesque backdrop that seemed worlds away from the tension in the room. You sat on the piano bench, fingers hovering above the keys, while Lydia Tár, the world-renowned conductor and composer, watched you intently from a nearby chair.

"Again," Lydia instructed, her tone firm but not unkind. "Start from the beginning."

You took a deep breath and placed your fingers on the keys, attempting to play the piece for what felt like the hundredth time. But once again, your mind wandered, and a wrong note echoed through the room. Frustrated, you stopped, hands falling to your sides.

Lydia rose from her chair and walked over, her presence commanding yet oddly comforting. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice softer now. "This isn't like you. You're distracted."