Chapter 2: What He Found
“Dad?””
He didn't answer.
I leaned forward between the seats.
“Dad, Mom just texted me.””
His eyes stayed on the clouds outside the window.
“What did she say?””
I showed him the screen.
He read it.
His fingers tightened around the armrest.
Maya turned toward us.
“What happened?””
Dad looked at her.
For a moment, he seemed unable to speak.
Then he reached into his jacket pocket.
He pulled out his phone.
“There's something I need to tell you both.””
My stomach tightened.
Maya sat up straight.
Dad unlocked his phone and opened a photograph.
He turned the screen toward us.
It showed a stack of papers.
I recognized Maya's handwriting immediately.
Her neat, rounded letters covered the top page.
*If Dad ever finds this, I need him to know I'm sorry.*
Maya gasped.
“Where did you get that?””
Dad looked at her.
“Your room.””
She went completely still.
“When?””
“This morning.””
“Why were you in my room?””
“Because I was looking for your passport.””
Maya stared at the screen.
“I hid it.””
Dad's eyebrows drew together.
“Why?””
“Because Mom said I wasn't going.””
I felt anger rise in my chest.
“You hid your passport?””
Maya nodded.
“I thought if I couldn't find it, maybe she'd have to wait.””
Dad closed his eyes.
“What else did you hide?””
Maya didn't answer.
I stared at her.
“Maya.””
She looked down.
“Nothing.””
Dad opened the photograph again.
“There were six pages.””
Maya's eyes widened.
“I only wrote one.””
Dad's face changed.
“What?””
“I only wrote one page.””
The three of us looked at one another.
The plane hummed around us.
Then Dad reached into his carry-on.
He pulled out a thin brown envelope.
“This was under your mattress.””
Maya stared at it.
“I've never seen that.””
Dad opened the envelope.
Inside were photocopies.
Bank statements.
School forms.
Medical bills.
And a photograph.
Dad's expression hardened.
I leaned closer.
“What are those?””
He didn't answer.
Maya reached for the photograph.
The moment she saw it, she recoiled.
“No.””
I looked down.
It was a picture of Maya at thirteen.
She was standing outside our old house.
Her left cheek was swollen.
There was a faint bruise beneath her eye.
I felt sick.
“Who took that?””
Maya whispered, “I don't remember.””
Dad did.
“I do.””
He looked at me.
“I took it.””
My heart stopped.
“You?””
“I found her outside that night.””
Maya's voice trembled.
“Dad, please.””
“No,” he said gently.
“Not anymore.””
She looked at him.
“I don't want to talk about it.””
“I know.””
His voice broke.
“But I need to.””
I stared at the photograph again.
Memories started connecting.
Maya missing dinner.
Maya wearing sunglasses indoors.
Mom telling us she was clumsy.
Mom saying Maya “fell down the stairs.””
Dad had believed it.
Or maybe he had wanted to.
Because at the time, he was traveling constantly for work.
And Mom had always been the one at home.
The one who knew everything.
The one who explained everything.
Dad turned another page.
“This is from your school.””
Maya frowned.
“What about it?””
“It says you requested a counselor.””
Her face went white.
Mom had told us Maya was having “teenage attitude problems.””
She had never mentioned a counselor.
Dad's hands trembled.
“And this is a second request.””
Maya whispered, “Dad…”
“And a third.””
She covered her face.
I felt my anger shifting.
It wasn't just anger anymore.
It was shame.
Because I had seen things.
I had heard things.
And I had convinced myself they weren't my business.
Dad put the papers away.
“We're going to talk about all of this.””
Maya shook her head.
“Not today.””
“Okay.””
“Not tonight.””
“Okay.””
“Maybe not ever.””
Dad looked at her.
“Then we don't.””
She slowly lowered her hands.
“But?””
“But you don't have to protect anyone anymore.””
Maya's eyes filled with tears.
I looked out the window.
I couldn't stop thinking about Mom's message.
*Ask your father why Maya was supposed to be left behind.*
There was another reason.
There had to be.
We reached the cabin just before sunset.
The place looked like something from a luxury travel magazine.
Dark timber.
Stone fireplace.
Huge windows overlooking the mountains.
Snow covered the peaks in the distance.
For a few minutes, none of us spoke.
Dad unlocked the door.
Cold air greeted us.
He immediately started working.
He turned on the heat.
Checked the breaker.
Lit the fireplace.
Carried the bags upstairs.
It was strangely normal.
That almost made it worse.
Maya wandered toward the window.
I stood beside her.
“Are you okay?””
“No.””
“Yeah.””
She gave me a weak smile.
“You're bad at comforting people.””
“I know.””
She laughed quietly.
It was the first time I'd heard her laugh all day.
Dad came downstairs.
“Maya, there's a bedroom downstairs with the big bathtub.””
She looked at him.
“That's Mom and Dad's room.””
“Not anymore.””
“You should have it.””
“No.””
“Dad—”
“Maya.””
He walked closer.
“You're taking the room.””
She looked at the floor.
“Okay.””
Dad turned toward me.
“Devin, there's another bedroom upstairs.””
“Got it.””
He started toward the kitchen.
I stopped him.
“Dad?””
He turned.
“Are you and Mom getting divorced?””
The question hung in the air.
Maya froze.
Dad didn't answer immediately.
Then he said, “I don't know.””
I wasn't expecting that.
“You don't know?””
“No.””
He looked toward the dark windows.
“I know I can't keep living the way we were living.””
“What does that mean?””
“It means some things can't be repaired just because everyone is tired of fighting.””
Maya looked away.
Dad noticed.
He walked over and gently touched her shoulder.
“Go get some rest.””
She nodded.
Dad went into the kitchen.
I followed him.
He opened the refrigerator.
Inside was a ridiculous amount of food.
My mother had ordered groceries for the original vacation.
Dad stared at them.
Then he laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
“Your mother planned everything.””
I leaned against the counter.
“She always does.””
Dad looked at me.
“You know what the worst part is?””
“What?””
“I thought planning everything meant taking care of everyone.””
He closed the refrigerator.
“It doesn't.””
His phone rang.
Mom.
Dad stared at the screen.
This time, he answered.
“Hello.””
Her voice came through loud enough for me to hear.
“Where are my children?””
Dad's expression hardened.
“They're safe.””
“You had no right to take them.””
“They came with me.””
“They are minors.””
“And I'm their father.””
“You can't just abandon your wife!””
Dad laughed bitterly.
“I'm not the one who abandoned anyone.””
There was silence.
Then Mom said something I couldn't hear.
Dad's face changed.
He looked at me.
Then toward Maya's bedroom.
“What did you say?””
Another pause.
Dad slowly sat down.
“No.””
His voice was almost a whisper.
“No, don't you dare put that on her.””
I moved closer.
“What happened?””
Dad raised one hand.
Mom kept talking.
Then Dad said, “If that's your defense, we're done.””
He ended the call.
I stared at him.
“What did she say?””
He looked at me.
“She said Maya lied.””
“About what?””
“Everything.””
A floorboard creaked behind us.
We turned.
Maya stood in the doorway.
Her face was pale.
“She's right,” Maya whispered.
Dad stood.
“Maya—”
“I lied.””
She looked at both of us.
“About one thing.””
“What?”” I asked.
Maya's lips trembled.
“I wasn't the one who asked Dad to leave.””
Dad stared at her.
“Then who did?””
Maya looked toward the staircase.
Her eyes filled with tears.
May you like
“Devin.””
My heart stopped.
