𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐎𝐟 𝐀 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

𝐓 𝐖 𝐄 𝐍 𝐓 𝐘 - 𝐅 𝐎 𝐔 𝐑

Lowen

The house was quiet, save for the soft ticking of the wall clock and the occasional creak of the wooden floors. I sat at the kitchen table, a knot of anxiety twisting in my stomach. My mom and sister were in the living room, engaged in their usual activities. Their dismissive attitudes and harsh words had left me feeling like a ghost in my own home, but today, I was determined to change that. Today, I was going to speak up for the first time in front of them.

My dad was on his way from the airport to pick me and my sister up which had been a relief. I wasn't sure I could handle both his unwavering support and my mom and sister's reactions all at once. But he would be here soon, and I wanted to have this out before he arrived. I needed to find my voice, and I needed them to hear me.

I'm just glad that Carlos is on a business trip outside of the country or else I would have never have done this.

"Mother, Eleanor," I called out, trying to keep my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach. "Can we talk?"

The living room fell silent. Moments later, my mother and sister appeared in the doorway, their expressions a mix of confusion and surprise. My mother's eyes widened, and Eleanor's mouth fell open. They were clearly not expecting me to speak.

"Lowen?" my mother said, her voice filled with disbelief. "Did you just speak?"

I nodded, standing up and facing them. "Yes, I did."

Eleanor blinked, her gaze shifting between me and our mom. My mother's face was a picture of shock and concern. "Why are you talking now? What's going on?"

"I've been silent for a long time," I said, my voice gaining strength as I continued. "But I need to tell you both something. I need you to know how your treatment of me has affected me."

My mother's mouth opened and closed several times, but no words came out. Eleanor's eyes were wide with surprise, and she shifted uncomfortably.

"I've always felt like I didn't matter to you," I continued, feeling a mixture of anger and relief. "Your criticism and indifference have hurt me deeply. I've been too afraid to speak up, to let you know how much your words and actions have affected me."

Before they could respond, the front door opened, and my dad walked in. He looked up, his face lighting up with his usual warm smile. But as he saw us standing in the kitchen, his expression shifted to one of curiosity, and then to one of surprise.

"Lowen?" he said, noticing the tension in the room. "What's going on?"

"I'm talking for the first time," I said, turning to face him. "I've been silent for so long, and now I need to speak up."

My dad's eyes filled with a mix of pride and emotion. "You're speaking? Squishy, that's amazing!"

My mother and Eleanor looked at him, their expressions a mixture of shock and confusion. "What do you mean, 'amazing'?" my mother asked. "We're trying to understand why she's speaking now."

"I've been waiting for this moment," my dad said, stepping forward. "I've always known how much Lowen has struggled, and I've admired her strength and patience. To see her finally find her voice and speak up—that's something I've hoped for."

My mother's expression softened, and she looked at me with new eyes. "Lowen, I had no idea you felt this way. I'm sorry for how we've treated you."

"I understand," I said, feeling a mixture of relief and sadness. "But I needed you to know how much it's hurt. I've been silent because I didn't think you'd listen or understand. But now, I need to be heard."

Eleanor nodded slowly, her eyes reflecting a newfound understanding. "I didn't realize how much we were affecting you. I'm sorry too, Lowen."

My dad moved closer and wrapped me in a warm embrace. "I'm so proud of you, Lowen. Speaking up took incredible courage. You've always been strong, and now you're showing that strength in a whole new way."

As my dad held me, I felt a rush of emotions—relief, sadness, and a glimmer of hope. My mother and Eleanor stood by, their expressions reflecting a mix of regret and realization. For the first time, I felt like my voice was being truly heard, and it made all the difference.

"We'll do better," my mother said softly, her voice filled with sincerity. "We need to be more supportive, more understanding. We've been too caught up in our own world to see how much we've hurt you."

"And we're here for you," Eleanor added. "We want to make things right."

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere in the house felt different—lighter, more hopeful. My dad's pride and support had given me the courage to speak, and my mother and sister's willingness to listen marked the beginning of a new chapter in our lives.

For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was finally being seen and heard. And as I looked around at the people who had shaped my life, I knew that this was just the beginning of a journey toward healing and understanding.

————————————————————————————————————

~ R