LITTLE SECRET | RAFE CAMERON

87: 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯

The clinking of cutlery against porcelain was the only sound breaking the silence at the dinner table.

Four plates. Four sets of hands moving, not out of hunger, but out of habit.

Alice sat slouched in her chair. Her cheek resting against her palm, eyes fixed on the food that lay untouched before her. Her fork hovered above her plate, only moving to nudge the food around, just enough to make it seem like she was eating.

But she wasn't. She couldn't.

„Alice" Her father's voice sliced through the silence. „sit up properly."

His words hung in the air. His gaze never left his plate as he said it. Not once did he look up at his daughter. To see her struggling.

Alice slowly lifted her head. His manner was nothing new to her. This distant, unloving manner. His expression was void of concern, consumed entirely by the meal in front of him. To him, the food was more important than the person across the table.

Without a word, she straightened and pushed herself into a more upright position.

She reached for her water. Swallowing hard, trying to clear the lump in her throat. Her hand trembled slightly as she set the glass back down, careful not to draw attention.

Ian sat wordlessly next to her and ate slowly, but the way his eyes kept darting to their father was almost a forewarning of what was soon to follow.

Their father's fork scraped across his plate again, a sharp sound that seemed to echo in the cold dining room.

„You've been distant lately" He cleared his throat and looked right at Alice. „is there something you'd like to talk about?"

She slowly looked up at him. She didn't know how he managed to do it every time, but her father was a natural at always bringing things up at the wrong moment.

His eyes narrowed slightly when she didn't respond to him immediately. „you've been in a mood for days, Alice. Whatever this is, it's affecting the whole family. You need to snap out of it"

The words cut deeper than she expected.

Snap out of it.

As if it were that easy. As if she could simply erase the weight that pressed down on her chest. As if she could simply burn the images in her head of Rafe in that hospital bed.

Alice swallowed hard, fighting back the flood of emotions threatening to spill over.

„Dad, stop." Ian's voice suddenly broke through, before she could speak.

His voice was firm, almost devoid of emotion. The way his right hand, which was resting on the table, clenched into a fist while he looked at his father with a certain harshness, made Alice swallow.

„Oh, you've got something to say?" He raised an eyebrow at his son.

„She's been through a lot, okay?" Ian continued, his tone harder, more firm. „give her space, you're not the only one who's been affected by all this"

„Space?" He scoffed. „she's sitting at the dinner table like—"

„Like she doesn't want to be here?" Ian interrupted, cutting him off mid-sentence. „maybe because she's struggling, and you're not even trying to see it...like always"

The table fell silent.

Alice could clearly feel the blood rushing to her cheeks and the heat rising to her head. The way she could hear her heart beating in her ears was so unnerving that she couldn't look at either of them.