I saw Lily’s little fingers at the keyboard, her brows wrinkled in concentration. Our living room was pleasant, and the corner lamp lit her nervous face.

A framed portrait of us on the piano caught my attention. We smiled as she sat on my lap at five. It reminded me why I accomplished everything.

“Take your time, sweetheart,” I responded calmly. “You got this.”

Her shoulders tensed, she inhaled deeply. “Okay, Dad. Hope I don’t fail.”

I tried to capture her sight by bending forward with my elbows on my knees. It’s alright if you do. Try your best. Your diligence in practice makes me proud.”

Her confidence was low, yet she smiled and played. Her song was modest, with a few missing notes and pauses, but I could see she tried. I cheered and smiled as she finished.

That was wonderful! I said with that usual pride. “You’re improving daily.”

“Really?” She inquired timidly.

“Yes,” I responded, up and hugging her. “You’re playing like this after a few lessons! It’s hard, but you’re doing great.”

She looked at the piano photo. Do you think Grandma and Grandpa will enjoy it?

Smile constricted. I didn’t want to show her my skepticism. “I’m sure they will,” I answered, hoping to be correct.

The doorbell interrupted my thoughts. My heart jumped. I inhaled and opened the door.

“Tom,” my mother exclaimed, grabbing him stiffly. “Too long.”

“Yes, it has,” I said, standing aside to allow them enter. Jack, my father, nodded and brushed by me before entering the home. As I closed the door, I felt the old chest tightening. The night was meant to be nice.

They entered the living area and saw Lily standing uncomfortably with her hands clenched.

“Hi, Grandma! Hi, Grandpa! She brightened, attempting to seem confident.

My mother’s grin loosened. Dear Lily, hello. Wow, you’ve grown.”

My dad scarcely noticed her. He mumbled, “House looks fine,” surveying the room like an inspector.

Frustrated, I bit back. “Dinner’s almost ready,” I remarked, attempting to speak clearly.

I cleared the table after eating. Lily hesitated between the kitchen and living room.

“May I play? Is that okay? Looking at my parents, she inquired quietly.

Of course, darling,” my mother said with a polite smile that didn’t reach her eyes. We want to know what you’re doing.”

I responded, “Go ahead, sweetheart,” smiling. Start playing. Will listen from here.”

“Are you sure?” she questioned, fumbling with her shirt hem.

I nodded. I can hear you well. After cleaning up, I’ll go.”

I saw her grin and turn to the piano. My parents sat on the couch, my father with a drink and my mother straightening her skirt, looking about.

Lily inhaled, her fingertips on the keys. I did the dishes while listening to her play. She began slowly, with an inconsistent melody. It was obvious she was anxious. Listening attentively, I dried and laid aside a dish.

Her pauses and missing notes were followed by restarts. Her playing showed willingness to overcome errors. Pride filled me. The most important thing was her effort.

As I prepared to wash the pans, I heard a weird sound. I believed the piano was broken, but it was my mother. She first laughed faintly, constrained. I froze, dishcloth in hand, trying to hear.

Then my father laughed louder and angrier with her. Hearing that in the kitchen felt like a smack. My stomach twisted. After setting the plate down, I strolled to the doorway to look into the living room.

“Was that your first time playing it?” my mother questioned, with a familiar edge.

Lily glanced between them, her small hands still on the keys. Her confused and pained expression cut my stomach. She shrank, looking if she was trying to vanish. She blinked quickly to stop crying as her lip quivered. My heart crushed instantly.

“No, no, I-I’ve had two lessons,” she shakily said. “It’s challenging to play with both hands.”

My father roared with laughter. “A dog could have done better,” he replied, wiping his tear. He and my mother exchanged a glance like they were laughing at a cruel joke.

Unable to move. I was trapped between incredulity and a growing wrath. My parents. My parents, who were meant to love and support their grandchild, slandered her as they did me. I choked back the old, familiar fury to keep calm for Lily.

I managed to utter “Hey,” my voice strained. “She just started. Her performance is excellent.”

My mother waved me off. Tom, don’t be too touchy. We’re simply playing.”

Fun. They dubbed it that. I glanced at Lily, who was quiet and staring at the floor. That expression seemed familiar. I wore it for years.

“Mom, Dad,” I began, attempting to stay calm, “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

They stopped laughing and stared at me like I was crazy.

Red-faced, my father stood up. “We raised you better. Your softness is excessive. Coddling her will kill her out there.”

My patience ran out. All the rage and grief from years of continual criticizing and belittling everything I accomplished returned. Though my voice was steady, I felt like I was on a precipice.

“This is why I was so messed up as a kid,” I stated quietly but firmly. You couldn’t simply be kind. You constantly degraded me. I won’t let you hurt her. Now leave.”

They seemed astonished at me. My mother started to speak, but I stopped her. “No. Get your stuff and go.”

They silently grabbed their jackets and luggage and went with one final glance. I stood shivering, trying to catch my breath, as the door snapped shut behind them. Lily was crying when I turned around.

“Daddy, I’m sorry,” she murmured. I didn’t intend to—

She was in my arms after two strides across the room. “No, baby. You did nothing wrong. You did well, right? So proud of you.”

She sniffed, holding me. “They laughed at me.”

I kept my voice quiet as my chest tightened again. “They erred, sweetheart. They occasionally lack courtesy. They have the issue, not you.”

She paused, then nodded slowly. “Okay.”

She played again when I sat next her and wrapped my arm over her shoulders. This time, her fingers were more assured and the music smoother. My pride grew as I observed her.

“See?” I whispered quietly when she finished. “You improve every time.”

I felt warm when she smiled a little. It went beyond this moment. It was about all I was doing and becoming for her.

I sat alone in the living room after Lily went to bed. The stillness was thick with my thoughts repeating the evening.

I inhaled and stood up, heading to the piano with a picture over it. I carefully caressed the keys, thinking about how their harshness had tarnished this once-joyful instrument. Not anymore. That wouldn’t be taken from her. I wouldn’t let them take it.

Lily and I played piano again the following morning. She glanced up at me, asking. I nodded and grinned.

“Can we try again?” I said. You and me.”

She played after nodding and locating the keys. A bolder, more confident melody filled the room. As the music played, I observed her with a full heart and knew we’d be alright.

We’d be OK.

Inspired by true events and individuals, this work is dramatized for creativity. To preserve privacy and enrich the story, names, characters, and facts were altered. The author does not imply any similarity to real people, events, or places.