Music Teacher Offers Free Lessons to ‘Poor’ Boy, Then Discovers His Father’s True Identity — Story of the Day

A former pianist turned school teacher, Lily begins teaching piano to Jay, a talented boy she believes comes from a poor family. Her efforts to nurture his gift take an unexpected turn when she learns the truth about his father’s identity—a revelation that threatens to unravel everything.

Lily sat by the piano, her fingers lightly pressing random keys, filling the room with soft, disconnected notes. She sighed, her mind spinning with worry.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

The orchestra had been her life, her dream since she was a child. Now, that dream was gone, and with it, her sense of security. The director had dismissed her without a second thought, choosing his daughter over her.

She had a small job teaching music to a few adults, but it barely covered her rent, let alone food and other expenses. Frustrated, she planted her hands firmly on the keys and began to play one of her favorite melodies, pouring her emotions into every note.

The tune started softly, but as thoughts of her situation flooded her mind, she played harder, her fingers striking the keys with increasing force.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

When the song ended, the room fell into a thick, profound silence, as if absorbing her pain. Her hands dropped limply to her lap, and she gently closed the piano lid, resting her forehead against it. The stillness was comforting, but it didn’t solve her problem.

Over the next few weeks, she scoured job listings, applying to anything remotely related to music. Finally, she found a position as a school music teacher. She didn’t mind teaching—she respected teachers deeply.

Yet, part of her longed to create her own music, to pour her soul into her art, not just guide others in theirs.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

But with no other options, she accepted the job. The school was eager to have her; they’d been searching for someone for months.

The first few days were tough. She wasn’t used to working with kids, and they seemed indifferent to her quiet, gentle way of teaching. She tried everything—she played soundtracks from popular movies, catchy pop songs—anything to spark their interest. But nothing seemed to stick.

Then, one afternoon after class, as she wandered down the hallway, a soft melody caught her attention. She followed the sound to her classroom, peeking inside. There, at the piano, was Jay, one of her students. He was playing the exact piece she’d practiced earlier in the day.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Do you play piano?” Lily asked, walking into the room.

Jay flinched, startled. “No… not really. I haven’t played much,” he mumbled, looking down at the keys.

“But you were just playing,” Lily replied, a warm smile spreading across her face. “And very well, especially for someone your age.”

Jay shrugged. “I just remembered how you played it.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Lily blinked, surprised. She knew that even many trained musicians couldn’t play by memory like that. “Would you like to learn?” she asked.

Jay’s eyes brightened, and a small smile appeared on his face. “Really? You’d teach me?”

Lily nodded. But she noticed his face fall as quickly as his excitement had come. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I can’t. I mean, thank you, but… we can’t afford it,” he said quietly.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Lily looked at him thoughtfully. She recalled noticing that he rarely ate lunch with the other kids. He seemed to keep to himself. “You don’t have to worry about paying,” she said gently. “I’ll teach you for free.”

Jay’s face lit up with a huge grin, and without warning, he threw his arms around her. “Thank you!” he said.

Over the next few weeks, Lily and Jay met in the empty classroom after school, their shared enthusiasm filling the room. Lily watched in amazement as Jay played each new piece she showed him, his fingers moving across the keys with surprising ease.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Every note, every chord, every melody seemed to come naturally to him. She taught him music notation, guiding him through each symbol and rhythm.

Yet each time, she marveled—did he even need these lessons? His talent was raw, instinctive, as if he was born to play.

As Jay worked through a new melody one day, Lily smiled and leaned forward. “Have you ever thought about performing?” she asked.

Jay looked up, surprised. “Performing? Like, in front of people?”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Yes!” Lily replied. “The school festival is coming up. You could play a piece there. You’re talented enough.”

Jay hesitated, glancing at the piano keys. “I don’t know… What if I mess up?”

“You won’t,” Lily said warmly. “You’re ready, and I’ll help you. We’ll pick a song together, something you feel good about. You could even choose the piece.”

Jay bit his lip, still unsure, but nodded slowly. “All right, I guess I could try.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Lily’s heart soared. She hadn’t felt this excited in a long time. Teaching him, watching his confidence grow—it filled her with a sense of purpose she hadn’t known she needed.

On the day of the performance, Lily moved through the crowded school hallways, searching everywhere for Jay. Her eyes scanned each room, her heart beating a little faster with worry each time she didn’t find him.

He was supposed to close the show, and time was running out. Other teachers stopped her, asking, “Have you seen Jay? Is he ready?”

She shook her head, feeling more anxious with each question. Suddenly, just as she turned toward the stage, Jay rushed in backstage, looking flustered and out of breath.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Quick, I need to go on now, before he sees me,” Jay whispered urgently, glancing toward the stage.

Lily placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, sensing his distress. “Hold on, Jay. Another act is on. Who are you hiding from? Why are you so scared?”

Jay’s face crumpled, his eyes filling with tears. “He won’t let me perform. And if he finds out, he’ll get you fired. I don’t want that to happen,” he said, his voice breaking.

Lily knelt down to his level, speaking calmly. “Jay, slow down. No one is going to fire me. Who doesn’t want you to perform?”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Jay wiped his eyes and looked down. “My dad,” he murmured.

“Your dad?” Lily echoed, surprised. “Is he… does he hurt you?”

Jay shook his head quickly. “No, he just… he doesn’t want me to play the piano.”

“Why not?” Lily asked softly, puzzled. “I’m not charging you for lessons.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“It’s not about the money. It’s just that—” Jay started to explain but froze as a stern voice called out.

“Jay!” a man shouted sharply. Lily turned, shocked to see Ryan standing there.

Lily recognized him instantly. Ryan—her old classmate from high school. Memories of those days rushed back. Back then, they had been friends, maybe even close friends.

Both had dreamed of a future in music, hoping for the same scholarship to attend the top music university. They’d spent hours practicing together, studying, pushing each other to improve.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Ryan’s family had never approved of his dreams. His parents thought music was pointless, unworthy of their son’s time. But Ryan had continued, driven by his love for it, keeping his ambitions a secret from them.

The day she won the grant was the day everything changed. Ryan had looked at her, hurt and angry, and said she had ruined his life. His words, “I hate you,” had haunted her ever since.

Now, standing before her, she saw that same resentment in his eyes, as if all those years hadn’t passed.

“Jay!” Ryan’s voice rang out sharply. “I told you not to play music. I forbade it!”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Jay looked down, his voice barely a whisper. “Dad, I can explain…”

Lily, sensing Jay’s fear, turned to him. “You’re not from a poor family?” she asked gently, though she knew the truth. Ryan had inherited his father’s company and was far from struggling.

Ryan scoffed. “Poor family? He probably made that story up so I wouldn’t find out about these lessons. He even stopped eating at school, hoping I’d never suspect it.”

Lily took a steady breath. “But why are you stopping him from playing music?” she asked, looking Ryan in the eye.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Because it’s not something a real man does,” Ryan replied firmly.

Lily felt her heart sink. “Ryan, that’s not your belief—that’s your father’s. The Ryan I knew loved music, loved playing the piano.”

Jay’s eyes widened, surprised. “Dad, you used to play?”

Ryan’s gaze hardened. “The Ryan you knew is gone. I was young and foolish. Now I understand. Music isn’t profitable, and it isn’t masculine.” He reached for Jay’s hand, pulling him away from the stage without another word.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Lily watched Ryan and Jay walk away, her heart pounding. She couldn’t let this end like that. Without hesitating, she hurried through the halls and out to the parking lot. She saw them approaching Ryan’s car, Jay looking down, defeated.

“Wait! Ryan, wait!” Lily called, her voice urgent. “You can’t do this!”

Ryan stopped but didn’t turn. “This is my son,” he said loudly. “I have every right to decide what’s best for him.”

Lily took a breath, stepping forward. “You don’t have the right to take this from him. Jay is talented, Ryan. You know it, and I know it. He deserves this chance.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Ryan turned to face her, his expression hard. “I was talented once, too. I had that chance, but you took it from me. Now, I see it was all nonsense.”

“That’s not true,” Lily said, her voice steady. “You don’t believe that, Ryan. And it wasn’t me who took it away. Your parents refused to support you. They never saw your dreams. I know that hurt, but don’t let it hurt Jay.”

Ryan’s eyes flickered, but he shook his head. “It’s my decision. Jay will not play music.”

Lily’s voice rose with emotion. “Stop this, Ryan! It isn’t fair! You’re denying him something he loves because of your own anger—anger at me, anger at your parents. Jay deserves a chance to be who he is. I could find him another teacher, but he needs this. You can’t crush this dream.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Jay’s voice was a whisper, but his words were clear. “Please, Dad. Just listen to me. Let me play.”

Ryan looked at Jay, something softening in his expression. After a long pause, he nodded slowly. “One time,” he said quietly. “You can play once.”

Lily let out a sigh of relief. She led Jay back into the school and guided him onto the stage. He took his place at the piano, his fingers finding the keys. As he played, the room grew silent, captivated by the beauty of his music. Lily glanced at Ryan, and for the first time, she saw tears in his eyes.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“That was my favorite sonata,” he said to Lily, his voice low. “I never had the skill to play it.”

Lily smiled softly. “So, does that mean…” she started, but he nodded, giving his quiet approval. Lily’s heart swelled with pride as she looked at Jay, feeling that he might be her greatest accomplishment.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

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Woman Told Her Daughter Her Father Had Died – Years Later, the Girl Discovered a Heartbreaking Truth

When Cassie returns from a getaway with her husband and son, she walks into her home to see a cryptic message from her mother — telling her to watch a video. As Cassie presses play, her entire life changes. In the end, she’s left wondering which of her parents are worthy of forgiveness.

In my eyes, my father could do no wrong. He was everything I needed him to be and more. He was a businessman who was always traveling, but he ensured that he made enough time for me.

“You’re my little girl, Cassie,” he would say, bopping my nose with his index finger. “You’re the most special.”

A father carrying his daughter | Source: Pexels

A father carrying his daughter | Source: Pexels

My parents always went out of their way for me — ensuring that despite their busy schedules, we would have family dinner almost every night.

It was the one thing that kept me grounded while both of my friends from school were in the middle of their parents’ messy divorces.

“I think it’s trendy now,” I told my mother as she cut slices of banana bread for me after school one day.

Sliced banana bread | Source: Unsplash

Sliced banana bread | Source: Unsplash

“Cas, you cannot think that divorce is trendy,” she laughed. “It’s devastating and traumatic, and very few families actually keep things civil.”

“I’m just saying that it’s trendy because a lot of kids live between two homes,” I explained to her. “It’s one of those things we were talking about in class today.”

I was fourteen, and the world seemed more dramatic than it should have been.

A smiling girl in a hoodie | Source: Pexels

A smiling girl in a hoodie | Source: Pexels

But what I didn’t know was that my words seemed to be an incantation that settled over our home.

A few weeks after that conversation, my father went away on a business trip. A few hours after he had been gone, there was news of his passing.

“How?” I asked. “How did he die?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Cassie,” she replied. “I’m just saying what the paramedics told me.”

Two paramedics standing | Source: Pexels

Two paramedics standing | Source: Pexels

“So what will we do next?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” she asked, puzzled by the question.

“For the funeral?” I asked. “Aren’t we going to have one?”

“I don’t think so,” my mother replied. “Dad wanted to be cremated and have his ashes spread at the beach. Let’s do that instead.”

A black and white urn | Source: Pexels

A black and white urn | Source: Pexels

I couldn’t fathom why my mother would want to do that — but at the end of the day, she knew my father best. And the longer I thought about it, the more beautiful and sentimental a private ceremony at the beach felt.

“Don’t be difficult, Cassie,” my mother said when she saw me thinking about my next move.

“I’m not,” I said. “Really. I was just thinking about it. It’s a great idea, Mom.”

A pathway to the beach | Source: Unsplash

A pathway to the beach | Source: Unsplash

I could have fought her for a send-off that I thought would have been more appropriate. But what use would it have been? At the end of the day, we had both lost him.

The months following the beach ceremony felt weighted, and I knew that I was becoming deeply depressed — my father had been our world. And his absence was felt more than anything.

But, with time, I learned to live with it.

A girl sitting on the floor and looking out the window | Source: Pexels

A girl sitting on the floor and looking out the window | Source: Pexels

Last week, I decided to book a cabin in the woods for a little family vacation. My son was adamant that camping was the new best thing, and I knew that despite the wonders of nature, I wasn’t going to camp in a tent without a bathroom in sight.

Instead, I thought that a cabin would be the best option — my husband, Derek, could camp outside with Drew, our son, if he insisted on it.

A cabin in the woods | Source: Unsplash

A cabin in the woods | Source: Unsplash

We had a dog, therefore, I asked my mother to house-sit for the week so that we could be at peace, knowing that Romeo was taken care of.

A week away was more than enough to restore my mind — and eventually, when we went back home, I was surprised to see that my mother wasn’t there. In fact, it looked like she had never been there.

A dog lying on the grass | Source: Unsplash

A dog lying on the grass | Source: Unsplash

But there, on the coffee table, was a note beneath the TV remote.

Watch this, Cassie. I’m sorry. — Mom

I didn’t know what was in store for me, but while Derek got Drew into the bath, I put the TV on and began to watch whatever my mother had planned.

The TV flickered to life, and there he was, my father, his voice a long-lost melody, his image aged but still, unmistakably him.

A person holding a TV remote | Source: Unsplash

A person holding a TV remote | Source: Unsplash

Tears streamed down my face as the realization that he was still alive enveloped me in a mix of joy and disbelief.

The video message was nothing short of unpredictable.

My dear Cassie, I’m still here, alive. I’m so sorry for the pain that you must have felt from my loss. But it was needed. I needed to be removed from your life because of the sordid truth of my past. Your mother knows everything, please ask her for the truth.

My health is on a steady decline, and I would love to see you and explain it all.

Love you, Dad.

An old man | Source: Pexels

An old man | Source: Pexels

Without telling Derek or Drew anything, I grabbed the car keys and ran out. I needed my mother to explain.

“So, I bet you’ve got questions for me,” she said, opening the door.

“Explain it all,” I said.

“Cassie, it’s heavy. You look tired from your trip; are you sure you want to do this now?” she asked.

I nodded. It was now or never. I needed to know why my father faked his own death to get out of our lives.

My mother made us some tea and took out some shortbread.

Shortbread cookies on a plate | Source: Unsplash

Shortbread cookies on a plate | Source: Unsplash

“Darling,” she said. “I’ll understand if you don’t forgive me, but there’s so much about that time that I need to tell you.”

I sipped my tea, trying to figure out what my mother was about to tell me.

“I remember that you were telling me about your friend’s parents getting divorced. Do you remember that?” she asked.

I nodded. Of course, I did. It was the strangest thing, but it was so common when I was in school.

“Well, your father and I were not legally married. So when I told him about our conversation regarding divorce, he was actually relieved. Without being married, there would be no divorce.”

A marriage certificate | Source: Unsplash

A marriage certificate | Source: Unsplash

“What’s the big deal?” I asked.

“Then I found out that the real reason that we didn’t get married was because your father was already married to another woman.”

“What?” I exclaimed, almost dropping my cup. “To who?”

“To a woman in the town where he always had his business trips.”

“You didn’t know?” I asked, unable to believe her words.

A couple showing off their wedding rings | Source: Unsplash

A couple showing off their wedding rings | Source: Unsplash

“Of course not!” she exclaimed. “But when I pressed him about it, he decided to choose that family over us. So, I told him that the story was going to be his death.”

We were both silent for a moment.

Turns out that my mother told him that she would never tell me the truth, not when he was my favorite person. She couldn’t burst my bubble in that way. And she refused to let him see me one more time.

“It was better for you to think that it was an accident,” my mother said. “It just made more sense.”

Now, I understood why we didn’t have a funeral for him.

“What did we throw into the sea, then?” I asked.

“Dust,” she replied with a straight face.

A cloud of dust | Source: Unsplash

A cloud of dust | Source: Unsplash

My mother had spoken to him twice over the years. The second time being a day ago.

During their meeting, my father confessed his imminent death due to illness and requested that she give me the recording. My mother, torn by guilt and love, chose to write me the note and have the recording all set for me to watch.

“I would have taken the secret to my grave,” she said. “But knowing that he was ill and wanted to see you just struck something in me.”

A cemetery | Source: Pexels

A cemetery | Source: Pexels

Compelled by a need to confront the reality of my father’s existence, I traveled to the state where he lived with his other family.

I spent a few weeks with my father — going in and out of hospitals, watching him take an array of different medication, and growing weaker by the day.

Sitting at his bedside, I listened to his stories, the regrets, the moments of joy, and the love he had for all his children — myself included.

When things started to go downhill, I asked Derek to fly over with Drew. It was going to be a fleeting moment, but at least I’d know that my son had met my father.

A sick old man | Source: Pexels

A sick old man | Source: Pexels

A few days later, my father died.

Even now, I don’t know if I’ve forgiven him for the lie of having a double life. I just know that when it came to it in the end — I wanted to spend time with him. I had shoved my feelings aside, hoping for memories that I could figure out later.

But now that the dust has settled, I’m trying to figure out if I should forgive my mother for lying.

Flowers on a grave | Source: Pexels

Flowers on a grave | Source: Pexels

What would you do?

Here’s another story for you | After Celine’s father dies, she is left with having to navigate the weight of her grief. Everywhere she turns, there are pieces of her father. On her many trips to the cemetery, she finds that there are always fresh flowers left.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

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