**Diary Entry**
My father used to leave the house twice a week for a few hours, returning full of energy and in the best of moods. Soon, his secret was revealed.
I was ten at the time, and my older brother, William, was twelve. He spent all day playing in the garden, while I helped Mum with chores. Dad worked at the factory, coming home late in the evenings. Mum would set the table, wed sit down for supper, and then Dad would slip on his polished leather shoes, linger before the mirror, and leave without a word. After hed gone, Mum would glare at the door. I wondered where he went and why it made her so cross. Later, hed return in high spirits. Curious, I asked Mum why she was angry when he left.
She said he had another woman. I couldnt believe it. Id seen how much he loved herhed never do such a thing. The next time he left, I followed. He walked toward the Royal Opera House and stepped inside. I hesitated, unsure whether to enter, when a hand touched my shoulder. Turning, I saw a beautiful womana famous actress I recognised. She led me inside, where I found a hall packed with people.
There, on stage, was my father. I never knew he was an opera singer. He was brilliant, singing an aria without noticing me in the back row. Tears of pride filled my eyes. When he finished, the applause was thunderous. Flowers were handed to him, and he stood there, beaming. Afterward, we walked through Hyde Park together, laughing, before heading home. I whispered to Mum, Dad doesnt have another womanhe goes to the theatre.
She smiled and whispered back, I know.
**Lesson:** Things arent always as they seem. Sometimes, secrets are just dreams waiting to be shared.
