Church boy | Haobin

5

Zhang Hao had always been careful. He had slipped in and out of his window so many times that it felt like second nature by now. But tonight, something was off. The moment his feet touched the floor of his room, he felt the presence before he saw it.

His father was standing in the doorway.

The older man's face was set in a stony expression, his arms crossed over his chest. Zhang Hao's heart sank into his stomach. There was no escaping this.

"Where have you been?" his father's voice cut through the silence, sharp and unforgiving.

Zhang Hao froze, the words stuck in his throat. What could he say? That he'd been meeting a boy in the park? Drinking? Letting his walls crumble, little by little?

"I asked you a question, Hao," his father's voice grew louder, more impatient. "Are you sneaking out like some rebellious child? Are you running around with those sinful people, the ones your mother and I warned you about?"

Zhang Hao winced at the word sinful. It felt like a slap. He wanted to disappear, to melt into the floor. "I just went for a walk," he mumbled, though he knew the lie wouldn't save him.

"A walk?" his father sneered. "In the middle of the night? Do you think I'm stupid, Zhang Hao?"

Zhang Hao didn't answer, couldn't answer. His throat was tight, his chest constricted, and all he could feel was the overwhelming shame flooding him. His father had always been strict, always made sure Zhang Hao stayed in line, but this... this was different.

"You're throwing your life away," his father continued, stepping closer, his voice rising with each word. "Do you know how hard we've worked to raise you right? To keep you on the path of righteousness? And you're out there, sneaking around like a criminal. Do you think this is some game?"

Zhang Hao's eyes stung, but he refused to cry. Not in front of his father. He bit his lip, staring at the ground, feeling like a child again. All the rebellion he had felt earlier, the thrill of breaking free from his father's rules, evaporated under the weight of his father's disappointment.

"I didn't raise you to be like this," his father said, his voice quieter now but filled with a deep, cutting disappointment. "You've always been the good one. The one I could rely on. But look at you now. Sneaking out at night like some delinquent. You're a disgrace."

The word hit Zhang Hao like a punch to the gut. Disgrace. He had never been called that before. He had always tried so hard to be the good son, the obedient son. But here he was, standing in the dark, being scolded like a child who had failed miserably.

"I'm sorry," Zhang Hao whispered, though the words felt empty, meaningless. He wasn't sure what he was apologizing for anymore—sneaking out, or being who he was. Maybe both.

His father shook his head, looking at him with a mixture of anger and disappointment. "Sorry doesn't fix this. You need to get your life together. You're wasting everything we've given you. Do you understand that? This is the last time, Hao. The very last time."

Zhang Hao nodded, even though he knew his father didn't understand. He couldn't. His father didn't know what it felt like to be trapped, suffocated by expectations that didn't fit him. He didn't know how hard it was to pretend, to hide, to live a life that wasn't really his.

"Go to bed," his father said coldly, turning his back on Zhang Hao. "And don't think this is over. We'll talk more tomorrow."

Zhang Hao stood there, frozen in place, until the sound of his father's footsteps faded down the hall. Only then did he allow himself to collapse onto the edge of his bed, his body trembling. Tears burned at the corners of his eyes, but he blinked them back, refusing to let them fall.