"Why are you still up?" Fred deflected.

"If my son isn’t asleep, how can I rest?" Weston replied. "How are your fingers? Are they sore?"

Fred had completely stopped playing the piano lately, so now that he suddenly played it again for three straight hours, his fingers must be sore.

Fred shrugged. "It’s fine."

His father knew him well; even if his fingers hurt, he wouldn’t admit it.

"Sometimes, being too accommodating can be a bad thing, you know? It’s good to be kind, but if you’re too generous without setting boundaries, people might take that kindness for granted. They might not appreciate it like they should," Weston advised.

Even though Fred was only ten years old, he was mature beyond his years because he had been through a lot.

"My kindness to her is something she deserves!" he insisted. "Without Jackie, I wouldn’t be who I am today. When other people beat me and yelled at me, Jackie was the one who helped me. She’s never looked down on me."

Whether he was the son of a cr