Page 35 of October
My phone buzzed on the seat beside me. Again. And again. I didn't look. I knew it was him. My father. And probably Laura, too. Maybe even my lawyer. I could already hear my father's voice, venomous and cruel. I turned the phone over, silencing it, and for some reason, I did something I hadn't done in years, I called Beth, my sister. She picked up on the second ring.
"I knew eventually you'd call," she said, like she'd been waiting. "Let me guess—she's leaving?"
I tried to speak, but all I managed was a choked, "Uh—I... yes. Beth..." My voice cracked like something inside me had split wide open. She didn't say anything at first. Then, gently: "Hey, breathe."
I sucked in air like it might hold me together.
"How can she do this?" I asked, voice small. "We're a family. We love each other."
There was a long pause on the other end. Just the sound of her breath and mine, circling the emptiness between us.
"Hello?" I whispered.
"I'm here," she said finally. "I just don't know if you're ready to hear what I think."
I swallowed. "Go ahead. I'm already broken."
Beth exhaled, and when she spoke again, her voice was soft, but not soft enough to spare me.
"Thomas, I love you. You know that. I've always loved you. And maybe more than anyone, I understand what it's like to grow up under Dad's thumb. I know what it's like to bend, to break, to shape yourself into what he wants because you think maybe—just maybe—one day he'll look at you and be proud."
Her voice cracked, not with weakness, but the weight of old wounds she'd never said out loud.
"I know what it's like to fight for his approval like your life depends on it. Because when we were kids, itdidfeel like that, didn't it? Like if he didn't see you, you might as well not exist."
I nodded slowly, though she couldn't see me. My throat ached. Her words rang too close to home.
"But you..." Her voice shifted. Firmer now. Sharper. "You crave his attention more than anyone and anything else. Even your wife."
"That's not—"
"Stop talking," she cut in, her tone fierce. "Just listen. For once, justlisten."
I did.
"You put him—and everything he values—above everyone you love. He loves work, so you killed yourself to become his heir. He wanted someone ruthless, so you swallowed your softness whole. He loves luxury, so you bought the biggest house, the flashiest car, the showy lifestyle. He hates weakness, so you buried your emotions. He loves control, so you gave him yours. And when he started prioritizingLaura, that manipulative snake in lipstick, you followed suit. You mirrored his choices even when they were the very things destroying you."
The truth landed like a slap to the face. My breath hitched. My fingers curled in my lap like they could hold me together.
"You became a man he could admire," Beth continued, quieter now. "But in doing that, you stopped being the man October fell in love with."
I closed my eyes. Her words echoed in my skull like they were being carved into stone.
"She didn't fall in love with a CEO or a polished product of our father's empire. She fell in love with the kid who snuck her snacks in class, who held her hand when she was scared, who told her she was enough even when no one else did. But youburied that boy somewhere along the way. You buried him so deep chasing Dad's shadow, you forgot what sunlight feels like."
I didn't know whether I was crying or not. Everything just felt hot. And tight. And raw.
"Even if he wasn't scheming behind your back with Laura," she continued, steady and unsparing, "even if the birthday party hadn't happened... Thomas, you've been neglecting October and the kids foryears."
I jerked upright, tension snapping down my spine. "I love my family," I said, louder than I meant to. "I'mtherefor them."
"No," Beth said gently but firmly. "Youprovidefor them."
Her voice was calm, but each word landed with surgical precision.
" I do believe you love them. But loving someone isn't just about paying for school and buying gifts. It's not just being in the same house. It's showing up. It's making them feel seen. Safe. Wanted. And Thomas... I'm not sure you know how to do that."
I flinched, and before I could reply, she added, softer, more tentative now, like she was bracing for a punch:
