, eyes fixed on a point somewhere beyond the walls of our modest kitchen. For a moment, I thought he might actually answer, peel back the layers of whatever had hardened his heart over the years. But he just let the silence settle like dust.
I sat across from him, the chasm between us as palpable as the shattered trophy would have been if I’d gathered the pieces. My heart ached more for this silence than it did for the public humiliation I’d just endured. His words at the ceremony had been harsh, but this silence felt like an even deeper betrayal.
“Dad,” I ventured again, “it meant a lot to me. Graduating—being valedictorian—it was for Mom too.”
