Chapter 5
A week passed.
I settled into the new house.
I loved my room. I loved the food. I loved having a father again.
My mother was still distant.
She was polite to my father. She thanked him for things. She ate meals with us.
But she wouldn't let him get close.
She slept in her own room. She rarely smiled at him. She flinched when he touched her.
I could see the pain in my father's eyes.
He loved her.
And she was pushing him away.
One afternoon, I was playing soccer in the backyard.
My father came out to watch.
After a while, he joined me.
He was good.
Really good.
We played for an hour. Laughing. Running. Kicking the ball back and forth.
When we were done, we sat on the grass, catching our breath.
"You're good," my father said. "Really good."
"Thanks," I said. "Richard never let me play. Said it was stupid."
My father's face hardened.
"Richard will never hurt you again," he said. "Never."
I nodded. I knew that.
"Where is Richard, anyway?" I asked.
My father was quiet for a moment.
"He's been taken care of," he said. "He won't be bothering anyone ever again."
I didn't ask for details.
I didn't need them.
I was just glad he was gone.
That evening, my father had a meeting.
Important men in suits came to the house.
They talked in his study. Behind closed doors.
My mother and I stayed in the living room.
She was reading a book. I was playing video games.
"Mom?" I said.
"Yes, baby?"
"Are you ever going to forgive Dad?"
She put down her book.
She looked at me.
"It's not that simple, baby," she said. "He hurt me. He left me. He let me think he was dead for three years. I grieved for him. I mourned him. And then I had to move on. I had to marry Richard to take care of us. And now he shows up? And everything I thought I knew was a lie?"
She shook her head.
"It's complicated," she said.
"But he did it to protect us," I said.
"I know," she said. "Intellectually, I know that. But emotionally... it's hard. I'm angry. I'm hurt. I'm confused. And I don't know how to feel about him anymore."
She paused.
"But I am grateful," she said. "Grateful he came back when he did. Grateful he saved you from Richard. Grateful we're safe now."
She reached out and touched my face.
"That's what matters most," she said. "You're safe. You're happy. That's all I care about."
I leaned against her.
"I miss how things used to be," I said. "Before Richard. Before Dad... died. I remember being happy. The three of us."
My mother held me tight.
"I miss it too, baby," she whispered. "I miss it too."
A little while later, the meeting ended.
The men in suits left.
My father came into the living room.
He looked tired.
But he smiled when he saw us.
"Everything okay?" he asked.
"Everything's fine," my mother said. She stood up. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight."
She walked out without another word.
My father watched her go.
His face was full of pain.
"She hates me," he said quietly.
"She doesn't hate you," I said. "She's just hurt. And confused. She needs time."
My father looked at me.
He smiled sadly.
"You're a good kid, you know that?"
I shrugged. "I just want you both to be happy."
My father sat down beside me.
"Me too, son," he said. "Me too."
He put his arm around me.
We sat there together, watching the fire in the fireplace.
And I hoped.
Hoped that my mother would forgive my father.
Hoped that we could be a family again.
May you like
Hoped that we could all be happy.
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