Page 177 of When the Storm Breaks
But not this time. Not anymore.
I let it sit. Let him feel it.
Then I speak.
“Enough, Dad.”
He raises his eyebrows in surprise.
“I want to hear you say it.”
He snorts. “Say what?”
I don’t blink. “What you did.”
He exhales, like I’m being dramatic. “Don’t start this, Haiyden.”
“Why not?” I ask, calm. “Because it’s easier if we just pretend none of it happened?”
His eyes finally meet mine. He really looks at me.
And for a second, I catch something buried deep in them—exhaustion, probably, even regret.
But then it’s gone. His expression hardens again.
He scoffs. “Pretend,” he repeats. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
He shifts in his chair. Not much. Just enough to hide the way hisfingers twitch around the glass.
“I can’tpretendI didn’t lose my daughter,” he says, his voice lowering. “If you actually understood that, maybe you’d stop acting so goddamn righteous.”
I hold his stare.
“I understand just fine, Dad.”
He lets out a humorless laugh and shakes his head.
“You’ve always been weak,” he mutters. “Always let shit slide when you should’ve taken control.”
The words land, but I don’t react.
“Is that why you did it?” I ask quietly. “Because you wanted control?”
“Careful,” he says.
I straighten.
My fingers reach down to brush the edge of my pocket again. Just once. Just enough for him to notice.
Something shifts in the room—and he knows it.
He sees it in the way I’m not flinching. In the way I’m not folding.
I watch his fingers tighten around the glass, his jaw shift like he’s barely keeping it together.
He leans back with a sigh, shaking his head.
“You knew, Haiyden.”
