Parents.. with different treatment

The weinght of silence

It had been days since the incident, but the tension in the house lingered like a heavy fog. Colby tried to go about his usual routines, but every time he looked at Xander, a sharp pang of guilt twisted in his chest. Xander, for his part, had withdrawn, retreating into himself in a way that felt unnatural for the usually energetic and talkative five-year-old.

He no longer played with his toys the same way, especially not the dinosaur car. It sat untouched on the shelf, a reminder of the moment that had shattered something between him and his dad. Xander would glance at it now and then, his eyes clouded with confusion, but he never reached for it.

The house wasn't exactly silent, but there was a different kind of quiet that hadn't been there before. Xander barely spoke, only answering when directly asked, and even then, his responses were clipped and cautious. The lively spark in his eyes had dimmed, replaced by a wariness that hadn't been there before. Xavier, sensing the change, had started giving his brother more space, confused but instinctively careful not to set him off.

Colby felt like he was walking on eggshells around his own son. Every time he tried to talk to Xander, the boy would shrink away, not with fear exactly, but with a kind of sadness that made Colby's heart ache. He hadn't realized how much damage a single moment of losing his temper could cause. Now, every time he reached out, it felt like the distance between them grew wider.

One afternoon, Colby sat down on the couch, watching Xander from across the room. Xander was sitting on the floor with a book, but instead of reading, he was staring blankly at the pages, his small body curled up defensively.

"Xander," Colby said gently, his voice softer than usual. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Xander didn't look up at first, but after a long pause, he closed the book and glanced over, his eyes uncertain. He didn't say anything, just waited, as if bracing for whatever his dad had to say.

Colby swallowed the lump in his throat. He hated that look—the guarded expression that Xander now wore whenever they were in the same room. "I... I'm really sorry about what happened the other day," Colby began, his voice faltering. "I shouldn't have hit you. That wasn't okay, and I want you to know it will never happen again."

Xander's eyes flickered, but he remained silent, his hands fidgeting with the edge of his book. He didn't fully understand the depth of his dad's words, but he understood enough to know that something had changed between them.

"I was really tired and frustrated, but that's not an excuse," Colby continued. "You didn't deserve that, Xander. You're a good kid, and I love you so much. I'm sorry if I made you feel like I don't care."

Xander's lips trembled, and for a moment, it looked like he might cry. But instead, he just looked down at his lap, hugging the book a little tighter. He wanted to believe his dad, but the memory of that day still clung to him, like a bruise that hadn't fully healed. The shock of his father's anger and the sting of that hit had lodged deep in his mind, creating a gap that words alone couldn't bridge.

Colby reached out, but when he saw the way Xander instinctively flinched, he pulled his hand back. That reaction stung worse than anything. His own son was afraid of his touch now, and the realization made Colby feel like a stranger in his own home.

Later that evening, after putting Xavier and baby Victoria to bed, Colby and Valerie sat together in the dimly lit living room. Colby rubbed his tired eyes, his voice thick with regret. "I don't know how to fix this, Val. He doesn't trust me anymore."

Valerie sighed softly, her heart heavy for both of them. "It's going to take time, Colby. You hurt him, not just physically, but emotionally. He's too young to understand what you were going through, and all he remembers is that you lost your temper and hurt him."

"I don't want him to think I'm that kind of dad," Colby said, his voice breaking slightly. "That's not who I want to be."

"You aren't," Valerie reassured him, placing a hand on his arm. "But Xander's young. He's sensitive, and he's been feeling like he's always in trouble, even before this. You need to show him, every day, that you're still his safe place. It won't be easy, but you can earn back his trust."

Over the next few weeks, Colby made every effort to rebuild the connection with Xander. He offered more patience, more attention, and tried to engage with Xander in ways that didn't push him too far. But Xander remained distant, his once-constant chattering replaced with a quiet that worried Colby deeply. He wouldn't play with the dinosaur car anymore, wouldn't ask to play games with Colby like he used to.

Colby would find him sitting alone, sometimes staring at nothing, lost in his own thoughts. The weight of the incident had settled inside Xander in ways the boy couldn't fully express. He began to have trouble sleeping, waking up from bad dreams where he felt overwhelmed or scared. He would wander into Valerie's room late at night, crawling into her arms for comfort, but never asking for his dad.

One night, as Xander lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Colby sat down beside him. "I know things have been hard," Colby said quietly. "But I'm always here if you want to talk."

Xander turned his head slightly, looking at his dad with tired eyes. "I miss how things used to be," he whispered, his small voice filled with an innocence that broke Colby's heart. "I don't want you to be mad at me anymore."

Colby's chest tightened, and he leaned down to kiss Xander's forehead, his voice choked with emotion. "I'm not mad at you, buddy. I never was. I just—" He paused, trying to find the right words. "I just made a mistake. And I'll spend the rest of my life making sure you never feel like that again."

Xander closed his eyes, nodding slightly. But as he drifted off to sleep, the weight of the unspoken still hung between them, a fragile thread of trust slowly, painfully, being repaired.