Until now.
Ava woke up with the weight of the night still pressing down on her chest. She didnât even know when she had fallen asleep, but now, as the sunlight streamed through her window, she felt the same heaviness settle in her bones.
But today, something was different.
She wasnât just sad. She was angry.
Angry at the silence. Angry at the way her father endured it. Angry at the way her mother had let her past turn her into this person.
She needed answers.
Without wasting a second, Ava got up and walked straight to her father.
He was already awake, reading the newspaper as usual, a cup of coffee resting beside him.
"Good morning, Ava! You have no school today. Why did you wake up so early?" he asked with a soft smile.
Ava hesitated for a second before speaking. "Dad, I need to ask you something."
Her father folded the newspaper and looked at her. "What is it? Is something wrong? You can tell me anything, sweetheart."
Ava swallowed hard. "Dad⦠wait."
She got up, walked to the door, and locked it. Then, she turned back to face him, her heart pounding.
"I want to know about Mom," she said firmly. "I need to understand why she is the way she is. Iâm not a child anymore. I deserve to know."
Her father studied her for a moment before sighing. "Sit down, Ava. Iâll tell you everything."
Ava sat beside him, hands clenched in her lap, waiting.
Her father took a deep breath. "Your mother⦠Shella⦠she was never given love the way you should be. She was raised in a house filled with anger, fear, and coldness. Her mother, your grandmother, never showed her kindness. She only knew how to break, not how to build."
Ava felt her stomach twist. "So⦠sheâs just continuing what she knows?"
"Yes," he whispered. "She carries a pain so deep that she doesnât know how to let it go. But that doesnât mean itâs right. That doesnât mean you should have to suffer for it too."
Ava felt her throat tighten. "Then why do you stay?"
Her father looked down at his hands. "Because I love her. And because I know sheâs not just her anger. Iâve seen the part of her thatâs capable of love, even if she doesnât show it often. But that doesnât mean you have to do the same, Ava. You donât have to be like me. And you donât have to be like her."
Tears burned in Avaâs eyes. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that she could break the cycle. But how? How do you escape something that lives inside you?
She didnât know the answer. Not yet.
But as she sat there, listening to her fatherâs words, she made a silent promise to herself.
She would not become her mother.
She would not stay silent like her father.
She would find a way out.
Somehow.
Even if it meant walking away from everything she had ever known.