Chapter 2: The Box in the Drawer
The drive home was the quietest drive of my life.
Nobody played music.
Nobody talked.
Caleb sat in the back seat beside me, staring at his new shoes. Ava held her backpack in her lap and looked scared.
I had never seen my siblings look scared of Vanessa before.
But that day, they did.
Dad kept both hands on the steering wheel.
His knuckles were white.
Vanessa sat in the passenger seat, angry and defensive.
“You’re making this into something it isn’t,” she said finally.
Dad didn’t answer.
“Marcus, I was trying to help.””
Still nothing.
“You know how difficult it has been trying to blend this family.””
My father’s jaw tightened.
“Blending a family does not mean erasing one person.””
Vanessa looked at him.
“I never erased anyone.””
I stared out the window.
I wanted to believe that.
But I remembered my mother’s handwriting.
The way her letters always started with, “My sweet Nia.””
I remembered the silver necklace she wore every Sunday.
I remembered how she let me hold it when I was little and told me it was special because it carried memories.
Those memories were gone.
And Vanessa acted like that was nothing.
When we got home, Dad didn’t go upstairs.
He went straight to the office.
The room Vanessa rarely entered because Dad kept important documents there.
I followed quietly.
“Nia,” he said.
I stopped.
“I’m sorry.””
Those two words broke me more than anger would have.
Because my father wasn’t the person who hurt me.
He was the person I needed to see me.
“I should have noticed,” he whispered.
I shook my head.
“I didn’t tell you.””
“That doesn’t mean you deserved it.””
I looked at him.
“Did you know she didn’t want my mom’s things here?””
Dad looked down.
“I knew Vanessa struggled sometimes.””
“Struggled?””
He closed his eyes.
And I knew he was trying to understand how he had missed something so big.
“Where would she put them?”” he asked.
“I don’t know.””
Dad started opening drawers.
Folders.
Old papers.
Boxes.
Then he stopped.
A small wooden box sat behind a stack of files.
My heart jumped.
“That’s not…”
He pulled it out.
It wasn’t my mother’s box.
But something was inside.
A folder.
Dad opened it.
His face changed.
“What is it?””
He didn’t answer.
He pulled out a printed email.
I didn’t understand everything, but I saw my name.
Nia Bennett.
And I saw words that made my father sit down.
“Boarding school.””
My stomach dropped.
“What?””
Dad read silently.
Then he looked at me.
“She was researching sending you away.””
I felt like the room tilted.
“No.””
“She was.””
“Why?””
Dad didn’t answer.
Because he didn’t know.
Or maybe because the answer hurt too much.
A sound came from the doorway.
Caleb.
And Ava.
They were standing there.
“Dad…”
Marcus looked up.
“How long have you two been there?””
Caleb looked nervous.
“A while.””
Ava hugged herself.
“We didn’t want to say anything.””
Dad stood.
“Say what?””
Caleb looked at me.
Then away.
“Mom does stuff.””
My heart sank.
“What kind of stuff?””
He swallowed.
“Your food.””
I frowned.
“What?””
“Sometimes she takes your snacks and gives them to us.””
Ava nodded.
“And your presents.””
My mouth opened.
“What presents?””
“The ones people send you.””
I felt dizzy.
“When?””
Ava’s eyes filled with tears.
“Christmas. Your birthday.””
Dad looked horrified.
“Why didn’t you tell me?””
Caleb wiped his face.
“Because we thought you would hate us.””
The room went silent.
I looked at them.
My little brother.
My little sister.
The two people Vanessa used to say were proof that I wasn’t alone.
They weren’t the reason I was hurting.
They were hurting too.
“I don’t hate you,” I whispered.
Caleb nodded, crying.
“We don’t want to leave you.””
Dad looked between us.
And I saw something in him I had never seen before.
A decision.
A father choosing.
Not just saying he loved me.
Showing it.
That night, Marcus told Vanessa she needed to leave.
She laughed at first.
Then she realized he was serious.
“You’re choosing her over us?””
Dad’s expression broke my heart.
Because that question alone told him everything.
“I’m choosing my daughter.””
Vanessa packed.
She cried.
She accused.
She said I had ruined her marriage.
But for once, nobody told me to apologize.
Nobody told me to be quiet.
Nobody told me to understand someone else’s feelings while ignoring my own.
After she left, Dad sat beside me on my bed.
“You know we still have a lot to figure out.””
I nodded.
“Yeah.””
“But one thing will never change.””
I looked at him.
“What?””
“You belong here.””
I looked around my room.
The walls.
The shelves.
The empty space where my mother’s things used to be.
I wanted to believe him.
But healing doesn’t happen because someone says the right words once.
It happens when they keep showing up.
And my father was finally showing up.
The next morning, he made a call.
Then another.
Then he started looking for answers.
Because he wanted my mother’s memories back.
And he wanted the truth.
No matter how ugly it was.
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Continue Nia’s fight for the truth
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