Parents.. with different treatment

Broken..

The day began like any other for Xander. Morning sunlight filtered through his window, casting soft beams across his room. Despite the calmness of the daybreak, Xander's mind felt anything but settled. Every morning was the same—tiptoeing around, trying not to do anything that would catch his father's ire. He was six years old, but it felt like the weight of the world already rested on his tiny shoulders.

At breakfast, the family gathered around the table. Xavier was enthusiastically talking about a game he'd played at school, his words rushing out as he tried to recount every detail. Colby smiled, clearly entertained by Xavier's story. Valerie, ever busy, was juggling helping Victoria eat while listening to Xavier.

Xander sat quietly, watching everyone else interact. He wanted to share about the project he'd done at school too. They'd made small crafts, and his teacher even said he'd done a good job with his, praising his careful attention to detail. Gaining the courage to speak up, he looked at Colby.

"Dad, today at school we—"

"Xander," Colby interrupted, not looking up from his phone. "I'm trying to listen to Xavier. Can't you see he's talking?"

Xander's face fell. "But I just wanted to tell you—"

"Can you just be quiet?" Colby snapped, his tone sharper than before. "Do you always have to interrupt?"

Silence filled the room as Colby's words cut through Xander. His heart felt heavy, his appetite gone. He lowered his gaze, swallowing back the tears that threatened to spill. Valerie looked over, worry evident in her eyes, but said nothing, afraid of provoking Colby further.

The rest of the morning continued in silence for Xander. He kept his head down, focusing on finishing his breakfast quickly and retreating to his room. Every part of him felt small, unimportant—just a shadow in a family that hardly seemed to notice him. But he was used to this. He would push his feelings down, letting the hurt settle like a quiet ache in his chest.

Later that day, as evening approached, Valerie asked Xander to help set the table for dinner. He was careful, doing his best to avoid making any noise or spilling anything. But in a rush to grab an extra napkin, his elbow nudged a glass on the counter. It fell, shattering into pieces on the floor.

The sound was enough to make his heart stop. He froze, the shards of glass glittering at his feet. Colby turned, his face darkening as he took in the sight.

"What did you just do?" Colby's voice was low, dangerous.

"I'm s-sorry," Xander stammered, backing away, his small hands trembling.

Colby stepped forward, towering over him. "Sorry isn't going to fix this, is it? You're always making mistakes, Xander. Can't you do anything right?"

Xander's eyes filled with tears, his throat tightening. "I didn't mean to, Dad. I was just trying to help..."

But Colby was already lost in his anger. He grabbed Xander's arm, harder than usual, his fingers digging into the small boy's skin. Xander winced, trying to pull away, but Colby's grip was unyielding. "You are nothing but trouble," Colby said through clenched teeth, his eyes cold and unfeeling.

The words hit Xander like a physical blow, each one sinking into him with a force that seemed to crush his spirit. He looked up at his father, searching desperately for any trace of kindness, any sign that Colby didn't mean what he was saying. But there was nothing. Only anger. Only disappointment.

In that moment, something inside Xander broke. The small, flickering hope he'd held onto—that his father might one day love him the way he loved Xavier and Victoria—faded into nothingness. His heart, so eager for affection and acceptance, finally gave up. He understood then, with a painful clarity, that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be good enough for Colby.

Valerie watched, horror etched across her face, her hand covering her mouth as she took in the scene. She wanted to intervene, to stop Colby, but fear rooted her to the spot. She had seen glimpses of this side of him before but never imagined he could hurt Xander so deeply. She knew she had to do something, but at that moment, her own fears left her frozen.

As Colby released Xander's arm, the boy stumbled back, his gaze locked on the floor. He didn't cry, didn't make a sound. He simply walked away, disappearing into his room, his tiny frame hunched as if carrying an invisible weight.

In his room, Xander curled up on his bed, hugging his knees to his chest. The tears finally came, silent but steady, each one carrying away a piece of his hope, his self-worth. He thought of Sam, his uncle, who always listened and treated him with kindness, and Katrina, who would sit beside him and ask him about his drawings and projects. He wished they were there, wished he could escape to their house, far from the coldness that filled his own home.

That night, as darkness settled over the house, a new kind of silence took hold in Xander's heart—a quiet resignation, an acceptance of the painful truth he'd tried to deny for so long.

The innocence of childhood had been taken from him that day, shattered like the glass on the floor. And though he was only six, Xander knew that something inside him had changed forever.