Chapter 8: The Truth About My Childhood
The next morning, my father was different.
I noticed immediately.
He was quieter.
More distant.
Not from me.
From everyone else.
He barely looked at Karen.
He barely spoke to Mia.
Something had happened after their conversation.
Something I wasn't supposed to know.
But eventually, I couldn't ignore it.
"Dad.""
He looked up from his coffee.
"Yeah?""
"What did Karen mean last night?""
His expression changed.
Just slightly.
But I noticed.
"What do you mean?""
"You know exactly what I mean.""
He looked away.
I hated that.
Because my father had always been honest with me.
Except now.
Now he was protecting me from something.
"I heard you talking.""
He sighed.
"I didn't want you involved.""
I felt my chest tighten.
"I've been involved my whole life.""
That sentence made him stop.
Because it was true.
Whatever secret existed, it wasn't something new.
It was something I had been living with.
My father sat down.
"Before your mother died...""
My heart immediately hurt.
He rarely talked about that time.
"Things were different.""
I nodded.
"I know.""
"When your mother got sick, I spent almost all my time at the hospital.""
He looked down.
"I trusted the people around us.""
A strange feeling entered my stomach.
"Karen?""
He nodded.
"She helped with you sometimes.""
I waited.
"But after your mother passed away, things changed.""
I swallowed.
"What things?""
My father took a deep breath.
"Karen started telling me you were struggling.""
I frowned.
"I was.""
"You were grieving.""
He looked at me.
"But she made it seem like you were difficult.""
I felt a cold feeling.
"What?""
"She said you were angry. That you blamed everyone. That you didn't want Mia around.""
I stared.
Because none of that was true.
I remembered that time.
I remembered crying myself to sleep.
I remembered trying so hard to be kind because I knew Mia had lost her mother too.
"I never said that.""
"I know now.""
My father's voice broke slightly.
"But back then, I believed her.""
The words hurt.
Not because he was admitting he made a mistake.
Because I suddenly understood why my childhood felt so lonely.
Someone had been telling my father a different version of me.
A version where I was the problem.
Where I was difficult.
Where I needed to apologize for being hurt.
"Why didn't you ask me?""
My father looked devastated.
"I should have.""
I looked down.
All those years.
All those misunderstandings.
All those moments when I wondered why my father seemed to understand Mia more than me.
There was a reason.
Someone had been standing between us.
Karen.
My father continued.
"After we married, I thought things would get better.""
"They didn't.""
He nodded.
"No.""
A long silence followed.
Then he said:
"There is something else.""
I looked at him.
"What?""
"Your college application.""
My stomach dropped.
"What about it?""
"Karen knew about the scholarship.""
I froze.
"What scholarship?""
My father looked confused.
"The full tuition scholarship you were considered for.""
I stared.
"I wasn't.""
"Yes, you were.""
My heart started racing.
"No.""
I remembered.
I had applied.
I had waited.
Then I received an email saying the application was incomplete.
I thought I made a mistake.
My father pulled out another document.
"The school confirmed your application was missing one recommendation attachment.""
I looked at the paper.
"And?""
His face became serious.
"The attachment was removed from the submission.""
I whispered:
"By who?""
He didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
I already knew.
My hands became cold.
"But why?""
My father looked away.
"I don't know.""
That was the question.
Why would someone sabotage my future?
Why would someone spend years trying to make me fail?
Then my phone buzzed.
A message.
From an unknown number.
I opened it.
And my entire body went still.
There was a picture attached.
A picture of Karen.
Standing outside my school counselor's office.
The message underneath said:
"You still don't know the worst part.""
I looked at my father.
"Dad...""
He saw my face.
"What happened?""
I handed him the phone.
He looked at the picture.
May you like
And for the first time since I had known him...
I saw fear.
