I reluctantly followed Rex to his room, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. The room was wide and spacious, almost having the same setting as my own room—a large bed facing a wall with a huge flat-screen television, and a lounge couch near the window. The only difference was the grand piano, which instantly drew my attention.
"That is my dad's piano," Rex explained, noticing my gaze. "Although he did something terrible to Mum, I don't hate him. Hatred never did anything good for Mum or me," he said sadly.
His words took me by surprise. Here I was, on the verge of growing an animosity towards my own mother. I moved closer to the piano, running my fingers over its smooth black surface, lost in thought.
"The few moments dad was with us, he never treated me badly. He loved me just like a parent would, and that's why I had sadly blamed Mum for his death, not knowing about the other side of him," Rex opened up.
