Chapter 107 HARPER
The house felt too quiet.
I sat at the kitchen table slowly pushing food around my plate. My appetite had disappeared hours ago but I forced myself to take small bites so he wouldn't worry even more than he already did.
Across from me my dad tried to act normal. He cut his chicken and took sips of water like nothing was wrong, but every few seconds I felt his eyes drift toward me.
He was watching me.
Studying me.
I knew that look well enough. He was worried and he was trying not to show it too much.
Usually I would pretend not to notice. Talking about my life had never been easy for me. Not with him and definitely not with my mom. Our conversations usually stayed on safe ground. School. Grades. Random things happening around town.
Nothing real. Nothing like this.
I picked up my fork again and forced down another bite even though it felt like sand in my mouth. The quiet stretched longer and longer until it began to feel unbearable.
Finally I set my fork down.
“I’m fine, you know,” I said.
My dad looked up immediately. The surprise on his face made it clear he hadn’t expected me to speak first.
“I didn’t say you weren’t,” he replied gently.
“You didn’t have to,” I said. “You keep looking at me like you’re waiting for me to fall apart.”
His expression softened a little.
“I’m your dad,” he said. “Worrying comes with the job.”
A small breath escaped me that might have been a laugh if everything inside my chest didn't feel so tight.
“I’m really okay.”
He watched me for another moment before nodding slowly.
“Alright,” he said. “But if you ever want to talk about anything, I’m here.”
I nodded and reached for my glass of water, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.
It wasn’t.
“You’re at the age where most problems start involving guys,” he continued carefully. “And I promise I won’t make it awkward if that’s what this is about.”
I groaned and rubbed my forehead.
“You’re already making it awkward.”
That earned a small chuckle from him.
“Well,” he said, “I had to try.”
Something inside my chest twisted at the gentleness in his voice.
He was trying.
Even when I had no idea how to explain the disaster my life had turned into.
I stared down at my plate for a few seconds before the words slipped out of my mouth almost without thinking.
“If we’re talking about problems,” I said slowly, “maybe we should talk about yours.”
My dad frowned slightly. “Mine?”
I lifted my eyes to his.
“Yeah,” I said. “You and Mom.”
The room grew very still.
I watched the way his shoulders stiffened slightly, like he had expected a lot of things tonight but that question had not been one of them.
“Harper,” he said quietly.
“Why?” I asked before I could stop myself. “Why’re you getting divorced after eighteen years?”
He let out a slow breath and set his fork down.
“That’s complicated.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“You wouldn’t really understand yet.”
Something inside me snapped at that.
I pushed my plate away and leaned back in my chair.
“Don’t say that,” I said sharply. “I’m not a kid.”
He looked tired suddenly.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then explain it,” I pressed. “Because from where I’m sitting it just looks like you both decided to give up.”
“That’s not what happened,” he said quietly.
“Then what did happen?”
He hesitated and I knew immediately he wasn’t going to tell me. Instead he gave the same answer they had both been repeating for weeks.
“Just because your mother and I are separating doesn’t mean anything has to change,” he said. “We’re still your parents. We still care about each other. Families look different sometimes.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
“That’s a lie.”
His eyes widened slightly.
“Harper.”
“You know it is,” I continued, my voice shaking now. “Everything has already changed.”
He opened his mouth to respond but I kept going before he could.
“First it was you staying late at work all the time,” I said. “Every night there was some meeting or project that suddenly couldn’t wait.”
I could still remember all those nights sitting in the living room waiting for him to come home.
Then the pattern changed.
“Then Mom started traveling more,” I continued quietly. “Except it wasn’t really about work, was it?”
He looked down at the table.
I felt a painful knot tighten in my chest.
“She didn’t want to be here when I found out about the divorce,” I said softly. “That’s why she left.”
Neither of us spoke for a moment.
I swallowed hard.
“If you two had just worked things out,” I whispered, “none of this would’ve happened.”
My dad frowned slightly. “What’d you mean?”
Tears burned behind my eyes.
“If things had stayed the way they used to be,” I said, “if we were still a normal family who played games on Friday nights and watched movies together on Saturdays and actually talked to each other...”
My voice cracked.
“Then maybe I wouldn’t feel like I’m completely alone every time something goes wrong.”
The words seemed to echo in the quiet kitchen.
My dad’s face softened with concern.
“Harper, you’re not alone.”
But it felt like I was.
All the time.
I wiped quickly at my eyes before the tears could fall.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered, pushing my chair back. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Hey,” he said, standing up too.
But I shook my head.
“I’ll do the dishes,” I said quickly. “I just need to clear my head first.”
Before he could stop me I turned and walked down the hallway toward the guest room.
The door closed behind me with a quiet click.
The silence inside my room felt heavier than the one in the kitchen.
I sat down on the edge of my bed and stared at the wall for a long moment before reaching for my phone.
My gallery opened automatically to the last picture I had taken.
It was from New Year’s Day.
Tyler and I were sitting on his rooftop with our backs turned toward the movie he had projected on the wall behind us so it would show up in the picture. I was the one holding the phone, leaning closer and grinning at the camera while the moving light from the film flickered across our faces. Tyler wasn’t even looking at the phone. Instead, he was staring down at me with this soft, almost distracted expression, like he’d forgotten the picture entirely and was just watching me. I hadn’t noticed it when I took the selfie. I only realized it later when I looked at the photo again.
My chest tightened painfully.
A tear slipped down my cheek.
Then another.
Soon I was crying so hard I had to press my hand against my mouth to keep from making any noise.
Everything felt broken.
My family.
My friendships.
My heart.
I felt like I was drowning in pain and loneliness. I just needed to talk to someone. I wiped my face and opened my messages.
My fingers hesitated over Megan’s name before I finally typed.
‘Hey.’
The reply came almost instantly.
‘Leave me the fuck alone.’
My stomach dropped.
Another message appeared right after.
‘And don’t bother texting Mark. He already blocked you.’
I stared at the screen until the words blurred.
Then I closed the conversation without responding.
My thumb hovered over Tyler’s name next.
Just seeing it made my chest ache with longing.
I tapped it.
Our last conversation stared back at me.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard as I wondered if I should say something.
Anything.
Before I could decide there was a knock at my door.
“Come in,” I said quickly, wiping my face with the sleeve of my sweater.
My dad stepped inside.
He looked like he wanted to say a dozen things but he held them back.
“I’m fine,” I said quickly before he could speak.
He gave me a small smile.
“I know,” he said. “I just wanted to ask you something.”
“What?”
“Would you like to go out for a bit?” he asked. “Maybe get some ice cream and watch a movie.”
I blinked in surprise, quickly closing Tyler’s contact before responding.
“That actually sounds really nice,” I admitted.
“Good,” he said with a warm smile. “Get ready and we’ll head out.”
“Okay.”
As soon as he left the room, I stood and walked toward my closet, feeling a little relieved he’d suggested exactly what I needed.
I was pulling on my boots when my phone buzzed in my pocket.
My heart skipped at the sight of Tyler’s name.
I opened the message slowly.
‘I know I’m supposed to be giving you space,’ he texted. ‘And you don’t have to reply. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.’
Another message followed after a second.
‘The house feels really empty without you. Even with everyone here.’
A small smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it.
It was ridiculous how much those words meant.
For a moment I considered replying.
Then I deleted the message thread.
Not because I wanted to forget it.
But because I knew if I kept reading it I might not stay strong enough to keep my distance.
Still smiling faintly to myself, I slipped my phone back into my pocket and headed out of my room to meet my dad.