Or maybe talk to the boy’s parents, since they are in our pack. Or maybe punish the boy for daring to bully the Alpha’s only son.
But Dad didn’t respond.
I stepped further in.
Fine. I’ll let the cat out of the bag. Maybe it would get Dad’s attention if told him what the boy had been saying about our family
“He says our family is a joke,” I said quietly, “and that we’re not worthy to be the Alpha family. He says you… always beat Mum up. And that we’re unhappy. And shameless.”
My heart started beating faster. The words were too heavy for me, but I kept forcing them out like little bricks from a crumbling wall. “He also said-“
“Kester!” Dad yelled at me, stopping me mid-way.
I jumped.
My breath hitched.
His chair scraped against the floor as he stood. Finally, he looked at me-but not with the concern I expected. It was flashi er.
I shrank back a step, clutching my bag tighter. My mouth was still open from the sentence he didn’t let me finish.
I didn’t understand
Wasn’t I supposed to tell him these things? Wasn’t I supposed to trust him to protect me?
Wasn’t that what fathers did? wasn’t trying to cause trouble.
I just wanted my Dad to tell me that I was safe.
But he didn’t say any of that.
Dad’s hands were clenched into fists at his sides, the veins in his arms pushed up tight.
Then he said, “You’re old enough to handle your own shit.”
I blinked, confused. “But… he keeps saying stuff. About your About Mum.”
“I don’t care what he’s been saying.” He waved a hand like he was swtting my words away. “You want him to stop? Make him stop.”
I swallowed hard. “How?”
His eyes narrowed like I’d just said something stupid. “You figure it out. You’re not a baby. If someone’s pushing you around, push back. You don’t need me running to school like some weak-willed father. Handle it!”
He sat back in his seat, taking a deep breath like he was calming himself down from the anger I caused him.
“You’re not some fragile pup that comes running to Daddy every time someone calls him a name.”
My throat felt tight, but I didn’t say anything. I didn’t even know what to say. I hadn’t come here to be babied. I just thought maybe he’d care. Even a little.
“If he’s bullying you,” he added, “then you deal with him. You make him stop. You’re an Alpha’s son,” he said. “Start acting like it.”
He sounded like it was normal for a kid my age to go around solving their own problems.
I nodded slowly, even though everything inside me wanted to crumble. My fingers dug into the straps of my bag until they hurt. I didn’t want him to see me cry. That would only make it worse.
He turned away, already reaching for the next file on his desk.
Conversation over.
That was it.
No “Who is he?”
No “Are you okay?”
No “Come here, son.”
Just… solve it yourself.
“Will you drop me off at school on your way out?” I asked Mum.
She was sitting at her vanity table, dabbing foundation across her cheeks. The room smelled like perfume and hairspray. Grown-up smells. Cold smells.
“No. Run along. You’ll be late. She replied, still looking at the mirro… I stood there, holding the strap of my backpack a little tighter. “Oh Okay.”
I waited. Just in case she changed her mind, Just in case, she glanced at me, saw something in my face, and said, “You know what? Get your shoes on. I’ll drive you.”
But she didn’t. She reached for her lipstick instead. It was bright red almost too red. Like the actresses in those TV shows I watched alone most nights when they weren’t home.
I bit the inside of my cheek.
I missed when she used to take me to school, kiss my forehead, and tell me to be a good boy. I used to wave at her from the gate, and she’d wave back through the window. That was a long time ago, hough.
But I guess I’d never experience that ever again.
“Mum?” I called cautiously. I didn’t want to upset her. Lately, she got irritated when I spoke too much.
“Mhm?” She replied, adding some more lipstick to her lips.
I stepped closer, careful not to bump into the vanity table. “Did… did I do something wrong?” I gathered the courage to ask the question I’ve always wanted to ask her for so long now. But she didn’t even look at me.
I pressed the tip of my finger to the edge of the table and started to tap it. One-two. One-two. Slow and nervous.
“You used to hug me,” I whispered. “You used to call me your little man and tell me I was smart. But now you don’t even look at me. You… you suddenly became so mean. Did I become a bad boy? Is that why you stopped?”
She froze and slowly turned to look at me. She turned like it hurt to do it.
“Kester…” she said my name and her voice was so soft. It wasn’t annoyed or tired. Just… soft.
For the first time in so long, I saw my Mum’s eyes soften a little bit.
I saw her really look at me.
I was happy. I made the right decision to come to talk to her. At least I got her to look at me after so long.
Before today, she only gave me simple answers to questions and barely even spares me a glance. But today, she looked at me.
My heart was filled with so much joy. I wished I could hold on to the moment forever. I had almost forgotten the reason I was there or the question I asked her a few seconds ago. Even if she did not answer my question anymore, I would leave her room happy.
I smiled when she called my name.
“What…” She swallowed, “Why would you think…” She looked away.
“It’s okay, Mum. You don’t have to feel sad about it,” I said softly, trying to catch her eyes again. “I love you, Mum. Just that… I get too lonely most of time.”
Her lips trembled, but she said nothing.
I miss when we were a happy family,” I continued, my voice almost whisper now. “I get jealous of the other kids in school… their mums bring them lunch sometimes… or wait at the gate to wave at them. I just… I just miss you.”
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