Chapter 8: The Lie My Father Carried
Dad didn’t speak after the recording ended.
He just sat there.
Looking at the floor.
I had never seen him like that.
Not when my mother died.
Not when he lost his job years later.
Not even when he found me freezing outside.
This was different.
This was the face of someone realizing they had carried the wrong pain for years.
“Dad?””
He looked up.
“I remember that night.””
Nobody moved.
Claire sat down quietly.
Brenda crossed her arms, but I noticed she was listening carefully.
Dad stared at his hands.
“I woke up because Elena wasn’t home.””
His voice was low.
“She said she was going to meet someone.””
“Who?”” I asked.
He shook his head.
“I don’t know.””
Claire looked surprised.
“Elena never told you?””
“No.””
Dad looked toward the window.
“She came home late. She looked scared.””
My heart tightened.
“What happened?””
“She told me everything was fine.””
He swallowed.
“But I knew she was lying.””
The room became quiet.
“Then she left again.””
“Why?””
Dad closed his eyes.
“Because I got angry.””
I froze.
“Angry?””
“I thought she was hiding something from me.””
He looked ashamed.
“I said things I shouldn’t have said.””
I walked closer.
“Dad…”
“The last words I said to your mother were not kind.””
A tear fell down his face.
“I told her maybe she cared more about her secrets than her family.””
Nobody spoke.
Then he whispered:
“Two hours later, I got the call.””
I understood.
For eight years, Dad had believed those were the last words he ever gave my mother.
Words filled with anger.
Words he couldn’t take back.
“But Mom’s recording said you weren’t responsible,” I said.
Dad looked at me.
“I know.””
“But you didn’t believe that.””
He looked away.
“No.””
Brenda suddenly spoke.
“You see?””
Everyone turned.
“What?”” Dad asked.
She smiled sadly.
“This is exactly what I mean. Elena always knew how to make people feel sorry for her.””
My blood ran cold.
“You’re blaming her?””
Brenda shrugged.
“I’m saying you don’t know the whole story.””
Dad stood.
“Then tell it.””
Silence.
“Tell us everything.””
Brenda looked at the door.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you.””
Dad laughed once.
A bitter sound.
“After everything?””
“You think you know me now?””
“No,” Dad said.
“I know enough.””
Brenda looked at me.
“You really think your father is perfect?””
I didn’t answer.
Because I knew he wasn’t.
Nobody was.
But that wasn’t the point.
The point was that someone had spent years hiding the truth.
Brenda walked toward the door.
Dad stopped her.
“You’re not leaving.””
She turned.
“Excuse me?””
“You know something.””
“And?””
“And I want answers.””
Brenda stared at him.
Then she smiled.
A cold smile.
“You want answers?””
She reached into her purse.
Pulled out a small envelope.
And placed it on the table.
“This was Elena’s.””
Dad stared.
“Where did you get that?””
Brenda looked at him.
“From the car.””
My heart stopped.
“The car?””
She nodded.
“The night she died.””
Dad’s face changed.
“You had this for eight years?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
Brenda looked at me.
Then said:
“Because your mother wrote something inside that would destroy this family.””
Dad grabbed the envelope.
His hands shook.
He opened it.
Inside was one page.
Only one sentence was written.
Dad read it silently.
Then his face went pale.
“What?””
He looked at me.
And whispered:
“Nia…”
My stomach dropped.
“What does it say?””
May you like
Dad couldn’t answer.
Because the sentence was about me.
