Mother

Chapter 21

Ivan's Pov*

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of my alarm. The early light filtered through the blinds, casting a pale glow across my room. I laid in bed staring at the ceiling for a moment, trying to shake off the lingering weight of the previous day. Yesterday's dinner had been a mess, and the awkwardness was still heavy in the air.

With a sigh, I pushed myself out of bed and got dressed quickly, pulling on my usual jeans and hoodie. I wasn't in the mood for school, but it wasn't like skipping would make anything better.

when I got downstairs, the house was too quiet. Julio was already sitting at the kitchen table, poking at a piece of toast, his expression distant. I grabbed a seat across from him, eyeing the food laid out, eggs, toast, coffee,Dad's attempt at making a family breakfast.

Father, sat at the head of the table, sipping his coffee in silence. The tension between the three of us was thick, hanging in the air like an invisible barrier. No one said anything.

I grabbed a piece of toast, my eyes darting between Julio and dad. The silence stretched on, becoming more unbearable with each passing minute. I have always been good at reading the room, and this was no different, Dad was trying, but neither me nor Julio were ready to make it easy for him.

I glanced over at Julio, who looked like he was barely tolerating the situation.  Julio hadn't said a word, his usual sharp comments and defiance dulled by exhaustion. I could feel the tension radiating off of him.

Dad cleared his throat, breaking the silence. " can I give you boys a ride to school today," he offered, though his voice lacked the usual authority we had grown up hearing. It was softer, almost unsure.

Julio didn't even look up from his toast. "We have our own ride," he muttered, pushing his plate away. I nodded in agreement, not trusting my voice. The idea of being stuck in a car with dad felt unbearable.

Dad didn't press the issue. He just nodded, his eyes flickering between us, searching for something neither of us were willing to give. After another moment of uncomfortable silence, I stood up, grabbing my backpack.

"We should go," I said quietly, and without waiting for a response, I headed for the door. Julio followed suit behind me, shoving his chair back harder than necessary. 

The cold morning air hit my face as soon as I stepped outside, but it felt better than the suffocating silence they had just left behind.

We drove in silence, the only sound filling the car was the low hum of the engine. I sat in the passenger seat today, my eyes fixed on the road ahead. Julio was at the wheel, his grip tight on the steering wheel, jaw clenched in that familiar way he got when he was annoyed—or worse, when he didn't want to talk.

The silence felt thick, suffocating almost. I kept thinking about the awkward breakfast we had  just left behind. Dad had tried, setting the table, making breakfast, even offering to drive us to school. But Julio had shut that down quickly. We have our own ride, he had muttered. No arguments.

I didn't blame him. The idea of being trapped in the car with dad, pretending things were fine, was unbearable.

I stared out the window, the familiar sights  of the dark forest passing by in a blur. How long could we keep doing this? Living under the same roof but not really talking, not really connecting. It has been like this for six years, but now it just feels weird.

As we pulled into the schools parking lot, the familiar buzz of students and chatter greeted us. Julio parked the car, already unbuckling his seat belt before we had fully stopped. He hadn't said a word the entire drive. Not that I had expected him to.

The engine cut off, and for a moment, neither of them moved. Julio was the first to break the silence, stepping out of the car without a word, heading toward his usual group. I watched him go, feeling the distance between them growing with each passing day. I knew my brother was shutting down more and more, and the worst part was that I didn't know how to stop it.

Sighing, I grabbed my bag and climbed out of the car, slugging my backpack over my shoulder I made my way toward my first class, the weight of everything still heavy on my shoulders. Just another day, but nothing felt normal. Nothing felt right.

As I entered the school building, the hallway buzzed with the sounds of laughter and chatter, but I felt disconnected from it all. I caught a glimpse of Julio before we parted ways, his expression a mix of determination and frustration. We exchanged a brief glance, a silent acknowledgment of our unspoken issues, before heading in opposite directions.

I trudged to my first-period math class, the routine familiar yet somehow empty. Taking my usual spot at the back, I tried to focus on the teacher's voice, but the words blurred together, drowned out by the weight of everything on my mind. I absentmindedly doodled in my notebook, my thoughts drifting to the awkward breakfast, dad's presence still heavy in the air, and the unsteady peace at home.

The bell rang, snapping me out of my daze, gathering my things, I Strolled to the art room. Through the glass on the door, I saw the vibrant colors and various artworks lining the walls. This was my sanctuary, a place where I could let my emotions flow freely.

Entering  the art room, I spotted Julio sitting at a table in the corner, scrolling furiously through his phone. A flicker of hope ignited within me maybe we could find a way to connect, even if it was just through our art.

"Hey," I said as I approached his table. Julio looked up, surprise crossing his features."Hey," he replied, his voice softening just a bit.

"What are you doing?" I asked, placing my back on the floor.

"Just scrolling through some videos." he shrugged, looking back at his phone.

I often used art as an escape, a way to express what I couldn't say out loud.

As the teacher called the class's attention, I felt a mix of excitement and anxiety wash over me at the prospect of diving into a new project. This was an opportunity to express myself, to let the thoughts and feelings spill onto the canvas, but it also felt daunting.

I glanced back at Julio, who is still on his phone , lost in his world. The momentary connection felt fleeting, but I clung to it, hoping that maybe, through our conversations, we could communicate what lay beneath the surface.

As the minutes ticked by, the classroom buzzed with creative energy, but I couldn't shake the underlying tension. I missed the days when things felt simpler, when we could share our thoughts openly without the burden of our family's issues weighing us down.

Surrounded by colors and canvases, I wished for a way to break through the walls we had both built around ourselves. Art had always been my refuge. I yearned for something more—a way to reconnect with Julio and navigate the turmoil we faced at home together.