he spoke
They got in the car, still caught in the flow of their ongoing discussion. His father was at the wheel. He sat in the back seat, quiet.
He wanted to celebrate his niece’s birthday. He didn’t want another evening spoiled by his father’s temper. More than anything, he wanted to be a source of peace and joy.
Then, an energy appeared in his stomach, it felt like an infinite resource, grounded. And this was projected to his mind a couple of times: how his father will behave and how he will slap his father.
He told himself he’d wait until they were out of the car, wait for the right moment to speak. But something in him knew—he had already waited long enough.
His heart approved calmly and his tongue spoke stillness:
Look! I want a peaceful evening. I swear I’ll beat you if you don’t behave.
In that moment, for the first time, one of two children acted as the father. And his father disappeared in the darkness of the night.
But he stayed. For the first time, he truly stayed. With his family. In peace. His anger didn’t drive him away—it rooted him where he belonged.