Chapter 2: The Hidden Recording
Theo stood in the hallway, frozen beneath the dim yellow light.
The tablet screen glowed from across the living room.
A small blue icon pulsed in the darkness.
Recording.
His heart began beating faster.
He did not understand why Vivian sounded scared.
He did not understand why his father sounded worried.
But he understood one thing.
They were talking about him.
And they were saying things that made his stomach hurt.
Theo held his wooden giraffe tighter and stepped backward.
The floor creaked.
Immediately, Vivian stopped speaking.
The silence that followed felt like a hand reaching through the darkness.
“Theo?””
Her voice came from the living room.
Soft.
Careful.
The same voice she used when she pretended not to be angry.
Theo turned around and hurried back to his bedroom.
His feet moved faster than his thoughts.
He closed the door and climbed into bed, pulling the blanket over his head.
A few seconds later, his bedroom door opened.
Not all the way.
Just enough for a thin line of hallway light to appear.
“Theo?””
He stayed still.
“Theo, are you awake?””
He pressed his face into the pillow.
The mattress shifted.
Vivian sat on the edge of the bed.
“I know you’re upset.””
Theo’s eyes opened.
Upset.
That was another word adults used when they wanted to make something sound smaller than it was.
He was not just upset.
He was scared.
“The tablet can be confusing,” Vivian whispered.
“Sometimes children don’t understand what they’re doing.””
Theo slowly turned his head.
Vivian looked different in the darkness.
Less like a person.
More like a shadow wearing a familiar face.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me.””
Theo stared at her.
Because that was the strange thing.
She always said things like that.
Things nobody had asked her to say.
You don’t have to be afraid.
I’m only trying to help.
I’m doing what’s best for you.
But every time she said them, Theo felt smaller.
Vivian reached out.
Theo moved away.
Just an inch.
But she noticed.
Her hand stopped in the air.
Something flashed across her face.
Not sadness.
Not hurt.
Annoyance.
Very quickly, it disappeared.
“Your father is coming home tomorrow,” she said.
Theo’s fingers tightened around the blanket.
“He’s going to be very disappointed.””
His eyes filled.
Vivian stood.
“I hope you understand that I’m doing this because I care about you.””
Then she walked out.
The door closed.
Theo waited.
One minute.
Two.
Five.
When he was sure she was gone, he climbed out of bed.
He moved quietly.
The way he had learned to move since Vivian came into the house.
Quiet footsteps.
Quiet breathing.
Quiet everything.
He reached the living room.
The tablet was still on the coffee table.
His “loud.””
He picked it up.
The screen showed a recording folder.
Theo had never opened it before.
His father had helped set it up months ago.
“For emergencies,” Daniel had explained.
Theo remembered sitting beside him on the couch.
“If you ever can’t tell someone what you need, you can show them.””
His father had smiled.
“Technology is supposed to help people, buddy.””
That was before.
Before Vivian.
Before everything became complicated.
Theo pressed the folder.
There were dozens of recordings.
Most were short.
Accidental.
A few seconds of the floor.
A few seconds of his classroom.
A few seconds of his own breathing.
But one file caught his attention.
The date was from two weeks earlier.
The night his father had promised to make pancakes in the morning.
Theo pressed play.
At first, there was only silence.
Then Vivian’s voice.
“I don’t know how much longer I can do this.””
Theo stopped breathing.
The recording continued.
Daniel answered.
“She’s making progress, Viv.””
“No, Daniel. She isn’t.””
Theo frowned.
She.
They were talking about him.
“He’s not trying.””
“He is trying.””
“No. You want him to be trying because you feel guilty.””
A chair moved.
Daniel sounded tired.
“He’s five years old.””
“And he’s learned that everyone bends around him.””
Theo’s eyes widened.
He sat down on the floor.
The tablet trembled in his hands.
The recording continued.
“You weren’t there today,” Vivian said.
“You didn’t see the teacher’s note.””
“What note?””
“She said he refused to participate again.””
“That doesn’t mean anything.””
“It means everything.””
A pause.
Then Daniel spoke quietly.
“He has a speech disorder. We knew this.””
“And what if the doctors are wrong?””
Theo stared at the screen.
The words made no sense.
Doctors were not wrong.
They had helped him.
They had given him his tablet.
They had taught his parents how to understand him.
Vivian’s voice lowered.
“What if he’s choosing this?””
The recording stopped.
Theo looked at the remaining time.
There was more.
He pressed play again.
This time, Daniel’s voice came first.
“Don’t say that.””
“I’m just asking questions.””
“He’s a child.””
“And he’s smart.””
Theo looked down.
That sounded like a compliment.
But Vivian’s voice made it something else.
“Smart children learn what gets them attention.””
Theo’s fingers went cold.
The recording ended.
He sat there for a long time.
The house around him felt unfamiliar.
Like someone had moved all the furniture while he was asleep.
Then footsteps came from upstairs.
Theo quickly locked the screen.
He grabbed his giraffe and ran back to his room.
He barely made it under the blanket before the hallway light turned on.
The door opened.
This time, it was not Vivian.
It was Daniel.
Theo’s father.
He stood in the doorway with a suitcase beside him.
His hair was messy.
His shirt was wrinkled.
He looked exhausted.
But for one second, Theo felt safe.
“Buddy?””
Theo sat up.
Daniel smiled softly.
“There you are.””
Theo wanted to run to him.
He wanted to throw his arms around him.
He wanted to press the tablet into his father’s hands and show him everything.
But then he remembered Vivian’s voice.
Your father is coming home tomorrow.
He’s going to be very disappointed.
Theo stayed still.
Daniel noticed.
The smile faded slightly.
“Hey.””
He walked into the room.
“You okay?””
Theo looked at the tablet on his desk.
Then at his father.
Daniel followed his eyes.
“Theo?””
Theo reached for it.
Daniel’s expression changed.
Not anger.
Something worse.
Concern mixed with confusion.
“Why do you need that right now?””
Theo froze.
Need.
That word again.
Like the tablet was a problem.
Like he was a problem.
Daniel sat beside him.
“Your stepmom told me some things.””
Theo looked up.
Daniel sighed.
“She said you’ve been recording conversations.””
Theo’s eyes widened.
He grabbed the tablet.
He pressed the screen.
A sentence appeared.
I CAN EXPLAIN.
Daniel watched.
Then looked away.
That tiny movement hurt more than yelling would have.
“Buddy…”
Theo typed faster.
NOT BAD.
I DIDN’T KNOW.
I NEED HELP.
Daniel read the words.
His face softened for half a second.
Then doubt returned.
“Theo, why didn’t you tell us?””
Theo stared.
Because I tried.
Because my mouth doesn’t work like yours.
Because sometimes my thoughts run faster than my voice.
Because when I finally make a sound, people act like it’s proof I could have done it all along.
But the tablet only said:
“I’m sorry.””
Daniel closed his eyes.
A long silence filled the room.
Then he whispered:
“I need you to be honest with me.””
Theo looked confused.
“I am honest.””
The tablet said it.
Daniel looked at him.
And then he asked the question that would change everything.
“Theo… did you record Vivian on purpose?””
The room became painfully quiet.
Theo looked at his father.
Then at the tablet.
He wanted to answer.
He wanted to explain that he had never recorded anyone.
That the tablet sometimes turned on when he touched it.
That he only kept the files because his father told him they might help one day.
But before he could type, Vivian appeared in the doorway.
She was holding a piece of paper.
Daniel looked up.
“What is that?””
Vivian walked into the room.
Her expression was calm.
Almost sad.
“I found this hidden inside his tablet case.””
Theo looked at the paper.
His face changed.
Because he recognized it.
It was not a recording.
It was not a message.
It was something he had drawn at school.
A picture of his family.
A picture of his father.
A picture of himself.
And standing beside them…
was Vivian.
Daniel unfolded the paper.
His eyes moved across the drawing.
Then Vivian pointed to one small detail in the corner.
“Look at what he wrote.””
Daniel stared.
Theo’s stomach dropped.
Because he knew exactly what she was about to show him.
Three small words.
Three words he had written because he was scared.
Three words that had nothing to do with what Vivian wanted him to believe.
Daniel’s face went pale.
And he whispered:
May you like
“Theo…”
“Why did you write… ‘Don’t trust her’?””
