A Love Left Behind

Chapter 10 - The Space Between Us

By the time I was nine, I had stopped asking Chloe why she didn't like Rea. Not because I had stopped wondering. I simply knew that asking never changed anything.

We never went to Rea's without Dad. That had always been one of Mum's rules, even if nobody called it a rule out loud. Dad could spend time with us at Rea's apartment, but Rea was never responsible for us. She never picked us up from school, never took care of us alone and never made decisions for us. Mum couldn't stand the thought of us being alone with her, and Dad had learned not to challenge that boundary if he wanted to avoid another fight.

Chloe seemed to like it that way.

When Dad was there, she was polite to Rea. Sometimes she even smiled at her and asked questions about school or work. But whenever Dad left the room for a moment, Chloe's expression changed. She would stop answering Rea or simply walk away as if she hadn't heard her. It was deliberate, and everyone knew it.

Rea never complained. She could have told Dad. She could have confronted Chloe. Instead, she simply gave her space. Sometimes I wondered if that hurt her more than she let us see.

One afternoon, Dad was in the kitchen making coffee while Rea prepared dinner. Chloe was sitting at the table doing her homework. Rea looked over at her. “Do you want anything from the supermarket? I'm going later anyway.” Chloe didn't look up. “No.” “Are you sure?” “Yes.” Rea nodded and continued cooking.

I watched her for a moment before asking, “Why don't you get angry?” Rea looked at me. “At Chloe?” I nodded. “Because she's allowed not to like me.” “But she's mean.” Rea smiled sadly. “Sometimes people are mean when they're hurting.” “Then she should stop.” “I agree.” “Then why don't you tell Dad?” Rea was quiet for a moment. “Because I don't want her to feel like I'm trying to turn her father against her.” I thought about that. I didn't understand all of it, but I understood enough to know that Rea was choosing not to fight.

Chloe's need for perfection had become stronger too.

It wasn't about being better than anyone else. She didn't care much about what other people achieved. She cared about getting things right. Her homework had to be perfect. Her handwriting had to look neat. Her room had to be tidy. She hated forgetting anything, being late or making mistakes, especially when someone else could see them.

If she received a ninety-eight instead of a hundred, she didn't celebrate the ninety-eight. She wanted to know where the other two points had gone. If she made a mistake in front of a teacher, she would think about it for the rest of the day. If she said something she regretted, she would replay the conversation in her head again and again.

It was as though she had created a version of herself that was supposed to be impossible to criticize.

Her friends noticed.

Not because she was competing with them. Because she was becoming difficult to understand.

“Why do you care so much?” one of them asked her one afternoon. “I don't.” “You do.” “No, I don't.” “You get upset about everything.” “I don't get upset.” Her friend laughed. “Exactly.”

Chloe smiled too.

But when she came home that afternoon, she went straight upstairs and closed her bedroom door.

I didn't know what had happened at school that day. I only knew that Chloe seemed quieter than usual.

Dad came home later that evening and asked her how school had been. “Fine.” “Anything interesting happen?” “No.” “You sure?” “Yes.” He looked at her for a moment. “Okay.”

Chloe smiled.

She was good at that.

She could make people believe everything was fine without actually lying.

A few days later, Chloe came home from school early. Dad was already there that afternoon, so she wasn't alone with Rea. She put her bag down and went straight upstairs. I was sitting in the living room while Dad and Rea talked quietly in the kitchen.

After several minutes, Rea looked toward the hallway. “Has Chloe been feeling well?” Dad shook his head slightly. “I don't know. She's been quiet lately.” Rea nodded. “Maybe something is going on at school.” Dad sighed. “I've asked her. She says everything is fine.” Rea looked at him. “Then maybe she needs you to ask again.”

Later that evening, Chloe sat at the table with us. Rea put food in front of her. Chloe stared at the plate. “I don't want this.” “You don't have to eat it,” Rea said calmly. “I'll make you something else.” “No.” “Okay.”

Chloe looked at her. “You don't have to keep trying.” Rea was quiet for a moment. “Trying what?” “To be nice to me.” Rea looked at her carefully. “I'm not pretending to be nice to you, Chloe.” Chloe looked away. “I don't need you to like me.” Rea's voice remained gentle. “I know. But you're still part of this family. And as long as you're here, I'll care whether you're okay.”

Chloe pushed her chair back. “I said I don't need you.”

She walked away.

I watched Rea.

She looked hurt.

But she didn't follow her.

That night, Dad had brought a new book for Chloe. She came downstairs and immediately smiled when she saw him. “Is that for me?” “Yes.” She took it from him. “Thank you.” He kissed the top of her head.

For a moment, she looked completely happy.

Then Dad looked at me. “And I didn't forget you.”

He handed me a small box.

I opened it.

Inside was a model airplane.

My eyes lit up. “Really?” He laughed. “Really.”

I threw my arms around him.

He hugged me tightly.

For a moment, everything felt easy.

Dad.

Chloe.

Me.

The three of us.

I didn't think about Mum. I didn't think about Rea. I didn't think about the things adults never explained. I was simply happy.

Maybe that was why I didn't notice Chloe watching us.

She was smiling.

But there was something behind her eyes.

Something I couldn't understand.

Later that night, I heard Dad and Chloe talking upstairs. “I just want you to know that nothing is going to change between us,” Dad said. “I know.” “You're my daughter.” “I know.” “And nothing anyone says can change that.”

Chloe was quiet.

Then she asked, “Even if you love someone else?”

There was a long silence.

Dad answered carefully. “Loving someone doesn't mean I love you any less.”

I remember those words.

At nine, they sounded simple.

Now I understand how complicated they really were.

Because Chloe wasn't asking whether he loved her.

She was asking whether she was still enough.

And nobody knew how to answer that question for her.

Not even Dad.

That night, I lay awake for a long time.

I thought about Chloe. About Mum. About Dad. About Rea.

I wondered why everything seemed so much easier when I was with Rea and so much more complicated when Chloe was around. I wondered whether that made me a bad brother.

Then I remembered something Rea had once told me.

You can love someone without agreeing with everything they do.

Maybe that was true.

Maybe I could love Chloe and still think she was wrong.

Maybe I could care about Rea without knowing exactly what she meant to me.

I wasn't ready to give that feeling a name.

I still wasn't sure I was allowed to.

So I closed my eyes and tried not to think about it.

Outside my window, the street was quiet.

Inside our family, nothing was quiet anymore.

Not really.