Chapter 2: The Box Under the Console
I did not leave.
That surprised everyone.
Including me.
A part of me wanted to walk out of my father’s house, slam the door behind me, and never come back.
But another part of me needed answers.
Because people can remove pictures.
They can repaint walls.
They can throw away old furniture.
But they cannot erase a person unless everyone around them agrees to pretend.
And I needed to know why my father agreed.
I placed my mother’s portrait carefully on the dining table.
Not in the box.
Never in the box again.
Celeste watched me.
“You’re being dramatic.””
I turned slowly.
“Dramatic?””
“Yes.””
She walked toward the kitchen and poured herself water.
“You came in here angry before you even understood what happened.””
“I understood enough.””
“No, you saw pictures missing and decided I was some villain.””
I almost smiled.
“Did you remove my mother’s photographs?””
“Yes.””
“At your request?””
“Yes.””
“Then I understood.””
She placed the glass down.
“You don’t understand marriage.””
That sentence stopped me.
I looked at my father.
“Did you hear that?””
Raymond looked exhausted.
“Simone…”
“No, Dad. I want to hear this.””
Celeste leaned against the counter.
“When two people build a life together, things change.””
“My father already had a life.””
Her eyes sharpened.
“With your mother.””
“Yes.””
“And your mother is gone.””
I felt my chest tighten.
Celeste lowered her voice.
“I am not replacing Elena.””
“Then why did you replace every picture of her?””
No answer.
For the first time, Celeste looked away.
I noticed.
A tiny movement.
A crack.
“You know what’s funny?”” I said.
Neither of them responded.
“Mom used to tell me something.””
Raymond looked up.
“She said people reveal themselves when they think no one is watching.””
The silence that followed felt different.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
My father walked toward the window.
“Your mother was complicated.””
I froze.
“What?””
He stared outside.
“She had her flaws.””
I waited.
Maybe he would explain.
Maybe he would say something that made sense.
Instead, he said nothing.
And somehow, that was worse.
“My mother is dead, Dad.””
“I know.””
“So why are you talking about her like she’s here defending herself?””
Raymond closed his eyes.
“I’m tired, Simone.””
That sentence made something inside me break.
“Tired?””
He turned around.
“Yes.””
“Tired of what?””
His face tightened.
“Tired of living in the past.””
I stared at him.
The man standing in front of me was my father.
But he felt like a stranger wearing my father’s face.
“You think Mom was the past?””
“No.””
“You think those pictures were the past?””
“No.””
“Then what was?””
He had no answer.
Celeste stepped between us.
“This conversation is going nowhere.””
I looked at her.
“You’re right.””
I picked up the box.
Her eyebrows lifted.
“What are you doing?””
“I’m taking these.””
“No.””
The answer came instantly.
Too instantly.
I stopped.
“Excuse me?””
Celeste’s expression became cold.
“Those belong here.””
I laughed softly.
“Here?””
“Yes.””
“Under the table?””
She looked uncomfortable.
“That was temporary.””
“Then why can’t I take them?””
Raymond stepped forward.
“Simone, leave the box.””
I stared at him.
“Why?””
Again, silence.
My eyes moved between them.
“What is in this box?””
Neither answered.
That was the moment I knew.
There was something they were hiding.
I opened the box wider.
Most of the frames were exactly what I expected.
Family pictures.
Birthdays.
Holidays.
Ordinary memories.
Then I saw an envelope.
White.
Old.
My mother’s handwriting was on the front.
My breath stopped.
“Dad.””
Raymond looked at the envelope.
His entire body went still.
“What is that?””
He moved quickly.
Too quickly.
“Give me that.””
I pulled it away.
“No.””
“Simone.””
“No.””
His voice changed.
Not angry.
Afraid.
“Please.””
I had never heard my father say that before.
Not like that.
I looked down at the envelope.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
My mother’s.
A woman who had been gone eight years.
A woman whose photographs were now hidden in a box.
A woman whose name made my father look terrified.
“Why does Mom have a letter hidden in her own house?””
Raymond looked at Celeste.
And Celeste looked back at him.
That was enough.
They both knew.
They both knew exactly what was inside.
I opened the envelope.
The paper was folded three times.
My hands shook as I unfolded it.
The first line made my heart stop.
*“Simone, if you are reading this, it means Raymond finally chose to tell you the truth…”*
I looked up.
My father had gone pale.
“Tell me what truth?””
Nobody answered.
I kept reading.
And then I saw the next sentence.
The sentence that made me realize my mother had not been the only person hiding something from me.
It said:
*“Your father will tell you I was sick. He will tell you that I gave up. But that is not what happened.””*
My fingers went numb.
I looked at Raymond.
“Dad?””
He stepped forward.
“Simone, don’t read the rest.””
But it was too late.
May you like
Because the next line was already burned into my mind.
*“The night before I died, I found out Celeste was never just his friend.””*