Once I arrived in my room, the first thing I did was change into my home clothes.
There were about fifty minutes until dinner. It was a bit of an awkward period. There wasn't enough time to do anything meaningful—like play a game—but there was enough time to kill by reading a few chapters.
Lying in bed, I picked up where I left off in the romcom I'd been reading. After blowing through ten chapters, I checked the time again. Only ten minutes had passed.
I frowned, then read another batch. Five minutes had passed.
It was almost like time was stalling, physically dragging its feet as if the universe itself was trying to delay the inevitable dinner with Mom.
I clicked my tongue and quietly scrolled to the next chapter. As much as it annoyed me, there was nothing I could do about it.
So I waited. And waited. And waited—feeling every passing second scrape against my nerves.
***
After what felt like lifetimes, one hour had finally passed. Almost as if we were following a script, Dad, Lily, and I all stepped out of our rooms at the same moment.
We spared each other a glance and a tiny, awkward chuckle before turning to the stairs.
We all stood at the very top, looking down at the living room below, but no one dared to descend first. The air was thick with the hesitation, fear, and anxiety of our household.
Seeing this, I sighed internally. I guess I'll take one for the team…
I pushed Dad and Lily aside and began my descent toward the living room.
Normally, the downstairs would be filled with warmth—the smell of fresh food, the soft simmer of the stove, the quiet comfort of home. But today, the air felt... cold. The type of cold that settled under your skin.
...How pleasant.
I glanced toward the dinner table. Mom was already seated in her usual seat, eating with mechanical, absentminded movements.
She didn't look up. Didn't acknowledge me. Didn't even seem aware that I existed. It was almost like nothing mattered to her anymore.
...Well, in her defence, if my head had been pounding all day, I probably wouldn't care about anything around me either.
I walked over and took my usual seat. Rice, chopsticks, and napkins were already laid out for all of us.
I continued to stare at the scene in front of me for a moment. Even like this, she still didn't forget.
I guess being a meticulous Mom and a loving Wife came first. How beautiful.
Or at least, that's what I would have thought—if not for the scowl etched into her face. I knew it wasn't directed at anyone, but that didn't make it any easier to ignore.
Yes ma'am. I'll just stop thinking and eat.
I picked up my chopsticks and started eating. Soon after, Dad and Lily arrived in the dining room.
They both pulled out their chairs carefully—grabbing the backs of their chairs and lifting them slightly before setting them down. There was no noise and no mistakes.
Then, they started eating. Our dinners were always spent without anyone talking to each other, but with no videos playing in the background—since Lily and I refused to watch any right now—the silence was especially suffocating.
The only sound left was my own chewing. Or at least—that's how it felt.
Each bite echoed in my ears, louder than it should've been. Too loud.
It was ridiculous. Logically speaking, there was no way that they could have heard it. I knew that—logically. And yet, I found myself slowing down regardless.
In order to get my mind off it, I glanced around the table.
Dad—who always ate with his mouth open and food spitting out everywhere—kept it shut the entire time.
Lily—who always picked fights with me over food—said nothing.
And me? I had already finished, but I didn't get up. The last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself. So I stayed. Waiting for either Dad or Lily to finish so I could leave with them.
Suddenly, a cough rose up my throat—a jagged, persistent urge. I quickly clamped my throat shut, forcing it down until my lungs throbbed with a dull ache.
As much as it hurt, it was better than any other option I had, so I stuck to it.
Just when the pressure finally began to ease up, a rough, raw, and seemingly dead voice cut through the silence of the room.
"Can someone get me a napkin?" Mom asked.
Dad and Lily flinched, snapping their heads toward Mom. Fear and confusion were written all over their faces.
While understandable, that was not what you were supposed to do.
Mom's brows contorted, becoming increasingly agitated the longer they did nothing. She took a deep, shaky breath and slowly opened her mouth.
Before she could say anything, I stood up and slid a napkin in front of her.
The air left her lungs in a quiet, defeated sigh. "Thank you," she murmured, her eyes never leaving her plate.
I stayed quiet. I knew she didn't want—nor was she expecting—a response right now, anyway.
Since I was already standing, I took my empty bowl and chopsticks and placed them into the sink as quietly as possible.
Then, I turned toward the stairs and began my ascent to the safety of my room. Just before I made it upstairs, however, I looked back at the living room one last time.
Lily had moved on to dessert, which was a slice of chocolate cake. Even though she was eating it directly in front of Mom, Mom didn't even spare her a glance—much less lecture her about how she'd gain weight.
Dad, on the other hand, collected Lily's bowl and brought it to the sink along with his own.
Mom finished her dinner shortly after and placed her bowl in the sink. Since she was already near the kitchen counter, she grabbed one of her numerous bottles of medicine and swallowed the pill dry.
Usually, Mom would do the dishes right after dinner. This time, the moment the medication had settled in her body, she collapsed onto the couch.
Dad didn't complain. He gathered the remaining dishes and turned the faucet on to the lowest—but also quietest—possible pressure. A tiny, silent stream of water.
It would take him three times as long to clean everything with a stream that weak, but he didn't change it. He just kept going with that same obnoxious, childish smile of his.
I'd be lying if I said that didn't get to me in the slightest. I guess… that's what love lookslike.
Or at least, that's what I thought it would look like. But I knew better than to blindly believe it—especially if it came from him.
My Father never acted like he knew love, anyway. But that was all in the past. There was no use in digging it up.
Maybe I had been staring too long, because Dad suddenly looked up at me. He blinked once. Then twice. And then—he grinned. The same grin he always had, and the one he always showed me.
I stopped for a moment—before my cheek muscles tightened to give him a cocky grin in return.
Seeing this, Dad shook his head and brought his attention back to the dishes.
With nothing else holding me back, I finally returned to my room and eventually fell asleep.
For the rest of the night—and until the morning—the house was silent. Not a single sound.
And yet, for some reason, in my dreams, I kept hearing the echoes of Dad's giggles. And in the midst of those echoes, the sound distorted into something familiar.
The cries of a weeping child. The screams of an enraged man. The sound of a glass cup shattering. Followed by my head splitting with pain.
The sounds distorted again, but no matter how many times they changed, there was always one common denominator. Crying and screaming.
Those sounds plagued my ears until I woke up the next morning. The moment I opened my eyes, I was met with silence.
I didn't waste any time. I got up from my bed, brushed my teeth, got changed, and headed for school. It was the same thing I did every day.
I just continued moving as if nothing had just happened.