ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀᴛᴀɪɴꜱ| ateez

✭𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎✭

✭𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆✭

Later that evening, the dim lighting of the dining room cast long shadows on the walls. The familiar aroma of home-cooked food filled the air, but it did little to comfort me. My family sat around the table - Mother, Father, and my younger sibling. A thick, palpable silence settled over us, like a heavy blanket muffling the room.

The weight of the silence pressed on me, the minutes stretching on interminably. I picked at my food, feeling the rising tide of anxiety, the familiar knot in my stomach growing tighter. The absence of words was only a reminder of the day my voice had faded away.

My mother's gaze found me, her eyes colder than I'd ever seen them. She saw in me not the son she remembered, but the shadow of who I used to be. The pain she associated with my transformation was evident in every line on her face.

"Look at you. Speak, for heaven's sake. He changed you, broke you, and look at you now - a disgrace, an embarrassment to the family," she spat, her voice dripping with bitterness. The sting of her hand as it lightly slapped mine was nothing compared to the piercing pain of her words.

"Leave him alone," my father interjected, his voice firm, an attempt to shield me from her anger. But his defense only seemed to fuel her fire. She lashed out, her hand meeting my cheek with a sharp smack.

"You're not my son. This is not the boy I loved," she cried out, her voice a mixture of fury and heartbreak.

I felt the sting of tears threatening, my vision blurring. My heart raced, every beat echoing the hurt of her words. The room around me seemed to close in, the walls constricting, and I felt an overwhelming need to escape. Taking a shaky breath, I pushed back from the table, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. The weight of countless unsaid words pressed on me, but I couldn't find my voice to utter even one.

The sound of the door slamming echoed in the stairwell, punctuating my exit with a resounding finality. I descended the stairs, each step an effort to put distance between myself and the painful scene that had unfolded in our dining room. Once outside, the crisp air struck my face, a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere I'd just left behind.

My feet carried me along the familiar path, the city's muted sounds enveloping me as I made my way toward the convenience store. Pulling my hoodie over my head, I sought a semblance of solitude amid the city's bustling night life. The faint, distant hum of traffic and the gentle rustling of leaves in the wind became a subtle backdrop to the tumult of thoughts whirling through my mind.

With each step, the harsh words from the dinner table replayed in my mind, intertwining with the memories of past conversations and the echoing silence of my own voice, long absent. The lights of the convenience store eventually appeared before me, a beacon in the chilling night, yet offering little comfort against the coldness that had settled within me.

The convenience store, with its harsh fluorescent lights, stood out in the dimly lit street. As I approached, I could see the familiar figure of the store's owner, Mr. Lee, tidying up some shelves. Over the years, he had become somewhat of a silent ally. Though we never exchanged more than the occasional nod, he seemed to sense my moods, never prying but always showing a quiet understanding.

I pushed open the door, greeted by the soft chime of the entrance bell and the gentle hum of the refrigerators. The rows of snacks, drinks, and daily essentials seemed untouched by the outside world's chaos. In this small haven, the outside world felt momentarily distant, and I took solace in its familiarity.