Silent Half

Chapter Eight: Homecoming Shadows

Dinner was already served when I walked through the front door. The scent of rosemary chicken and buttered carrots greeted me—comforting, if only the air didn’t feel so cold. Laughter echoed from the dining room. Not just any laughter. Amara’s.

I walked in slowly, almost hesitant, clutching my bag like a shield. The long dining table was filled. My mother’s perfectly ironed placemats, the sparkling glassware, the polished chandelier—all shined as if nothing in the world could stain this evening.

But I had arrived, so the illusion cracked.

“Oh, look who finally decided to come home,” my mother said without even turning her head.

I froze, barely a step inside the dining room. Amara sat proudly between our parents, giggling over something our maternal grandmother whispered to her. My maternal grandfather lifted his glass in a silent toast toward her, not even acknowledging me.

My father set his cutlery down with a sharp clink. “You weren’t here to greet your grandparents when they arrived. Again.”

“I didn’t know they were coming today,” I said quietly, eyes down.

“Maybe if you spent more time being part of this family, you’d know such things,” my mother snapped.

“I had appointments,” I muttered.

“Probably sneaking off to your brothers again,” Amara said sweetly. “She always says she has ‘appointments,’ but then she shows up smelling like Jace’s garage.”

“She’s been at her brothers’ again, hasn’t she?” our grandmother chimed in with a disapproving look. “That brothers of hers spoils her rotten.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Oh, please,” Amara interrupted. “You weren’t at school on Friday either. I even covered for you when one of the teachers asked where you were. But I guess that doesn’t matter to you, does it?”

My heart sank. I hadn’t thought anyone had noticed. And Amara—of course she noticed. And twisted it.

“You skipped school again?” my father’s voice sharpened, brittle and furious. “Is that how little your education means to you?”

“She probably went off with some boy,” Amara added with a little laugh, swirling her fork through her rice like this was all just another inside joke.

“You what?” my mother’s voice turned shrill. “Do you even care about your reputation? Do you think this family needs another scandal?”

“There is no boy,” I said quickly, too quickly. My cheeks flushed.

“Don’t lie to us, Alina,” my father barked. “We gave you everything, and this is how you repay us? By disrespecting us in front of your grandparents?”

“I didn’t know they were coming,” I tried again, quieter this time.

“And why wouldn’t you?” my grandmother said, setting down her wine glass. “Because you’re always off pretending you’re better than everyone. But look at you. Ungrateful. Unpolished. Just like your mother said, always causing trouble.”

“You can’t even show basic manners,” my mother added. “Coming in late, looking like a mess. What were you even wearing today, Alina? That blouse looks like it hasn’t been ironed in days.”

I looked down at my sleeves, fingers gripping the edges. It was the same white blouse I always wore when I visited the hospital.

“Maybe if you focused on your studies instead of running around like some charity case, you’d be worth something,” Amara said with a smile so sweet it stung.

“I’m second in our class,” I whispered, but the words were swallowed by scoffs.

“And you think that’s enough?” my mother said. “Second isn’t first, Alina. You’ll always be second. Always behind your sister.”

Amara beamed under the praise.

“And still,” my father added with a sneer, “we get complaints from teachers about your attitude. About being absent. About not turning in assignments on time. Do you know how embarrassing that is for us?”

“That’s not true,” I said, my voice shaking. “I always turn them in.”

“Lying again,” my grandmother said. “Just like always.”

Amara leaned closer, her tone mockingly soft. “It’s okay, Alina. You’re just... struggling. Maybe we can all try to be more patient with her, Mom.”

Her fake concern only poured more gasoline on the fire.

“I don’t want your pity,” I snapped.

“Oh, so now you’re ungrateful and rude?” my father stood. “Go to your room. I won’t have this conversation in front of your grandparents.”

“I didn’t ask to be part of it,” I muttered, too low.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing,” I said, standing as well. My knees wobbled beneath the pressure.

My mother waved me off with her hand like she would a fly. “Honestly, I’m done with her tonight.”

As I walked away from the table, I heard one last thing from Amara, whispered just loudly enough for everyone to hear.

“She just hates that I’ll always be the one they want.”

Their laughter chased me out of the room like a ghost. I climbed the stairs slowly, one hand on the wall, my breath caught in my throat.

No one asked if I’d eaten.

No one asked if I was okay.

I was invisible again, but worse than that—I was the family embarrassment.