I honestly thought we were okay.
The apology, the talk, the softness in his eyes—it felt like we were finally turning a corner.
But peace in that house never lasted long.
Later that afternoon, I saw Onnie through the window, pulling the neighbor’s garbage bin down the street. At first, I didn’t think anything of it. Kids help neighbors all the time. Maybe he was trying to be useful.
But then—minutes later—he sprinted back inside the yard, clutching a loaf of bread like he had stolen it.
Head down. Shoulders tight. Moving fast.
He didn’t greet.
Didn’t look my way.
Didn’t even pretend to explain.
He just rushed straight to his room and shut the door.
Something in my stomach dropped.
After everything we spoke about… why was he still hiding? Why was he suddenly getting bread from ou
