Chapter 6 - There Will Always Be Room for You
The silence lasted several seconds.
Celeste looked from Nia to David.
Then her eyes dropped to the paper.
“I was trying to keep this household together.”
David's expression barely changed.
“By convincing my daughter I wanted her gone?”
Celeste swallowed.
“I thought she'd be happier with Denise for a while.”
“You told her I'd made that decision.”
“I thought once she got some distance, things might calm down.”
David shook his head.
“That wasn't your decision to make.”
Celeste looked toward the stairs.
“Everything revolves around Nia's feelings now. What about Jordan and Lily? What about my business? What about me?”
David listened.
Then he answered.
“Those things matter. But none of them require Nia to disappear.”
Celeste's eyes filled with tears.
“I've spent years trying to make this family work.”
“And I've spent years trusting you to treat my daughter fairly.”
He paused.
“That trust is gone.”
Celeste looked at Nia.
For a moment, the teenager thought she might finally hear an apology.
Instead, Celeste said, “You could have come to me if you were unhappy.”
Nia stared at her.
“I did.”
Celeste blinked.
“I told you I needed time for my drawings. I told you I wanted to go to the program. I told you I was tired.”
Her voice cracked.
“And every time, you made me feel selfish for asking.”
Denise stood nearby without speaking.
Nia looked at her father.
“I know I should've told you sooner.”
David's face changed.
“No, sweetheart.”
He stepped closer.
“You tried to tell me in ways I should've recognized. I wasn't paying enough attention.”
Nia's eyes filled again.
David continued.
“I thought providing for you meant working as hard as I could. But I was so busy making sure you had a home that I stopped checking whether you felt safe inside it.”
Nia covered her mouth.
“I thought you'd pick her.”
David shook his head.
“You should never have had to wonder whether you had a place in my life.”
He embraced her.
Nia held onto him as though she had been waiting years to do it.
Celeste turned away.
The conversation about the marriage wasn't finished that night.
There would be more difficult discussions.
There would be practical arrangements, financial decisions, and painful explanations to people who knew only the family's public appearance.
But David stopped pretending that a single apology could undo what had happened.
He and Nia stayed temporarily with Denise while he arranged separate housing.
Celeste remained in the family house with Jordan and Lily as the adults began working through the separation.
David made sure the children knew he wasn't angry with them.
He didn't ask them to choose sides.
When Jordan called to ask whether David would still come to his basketball game, David answered carefully.
“I want to be there. I'll work out what's possible with your mom.”
The boy was quiet.
Then he said, “Nia didn't make me say anything.”
“I know.”
“I just didn't like seeing her cry.”
David closed his eyes.
“Neither did I, son.”
Two weeks later, David moved into a modest rental apartment with Nia.
It was smaller than the house they had left.
There was one bathroom, a narrow kitchen, and a dining table that barely fit beside the living room window.
Nia didn't complain.
Instead, she asked whether she could put her drawings on the walls.
David bought a packet of removable picture hooks.
“Pick whichever wall you want.”
She spent an entire afternoon arranging her designs.
The neighborhood library went above the couch.
A drawing of an apartment complex with rooftop gardens went beside her bedroom door.
And above the dining table, she hung a small sketch of three people sitting together.
It was something she had drawn years earlier.
Her father.
Her mother.
And herself.
David stared at it for a long time.
Nia noticed.
“Is it okay if I keep that there?”
He wiped his cheek.
“Of course.”
The following Saturday, David woke early.
Nia's fellowship had begun the weekend before, and she was now preparing for her second session.
Her damaged blouse had been professionally cleaned.
Some of the brown stains had come out.
A faint mark remained near the hem.
Nia had decided not to wear it again just yet.
Instead, she chose a crisp blue shirt and dark jeans.
She came into the kitchen carrying her drawing portfolio.
David was making breakfast.
“Eggs?” he asked.
“Please.”
He placed a plate at her usual seat.
Then he paused.
For so long, their family dinners had been organized around everyone else's needs.
Nia had learned to wait.
To help.
To take what remained.
He pulled out the chair for her.
“Sit down. I'll finish cooking.”
Nia smiled.
“You don't need to do everything.”
“I know.”
He returned to the stove.
“Neither do you.”
They ate together.
Nia talked about her instructors and a project that would allow students to redesign unused spaces in their neighborhoods.
She wanted to create a center where children could study, draw, and spend time safely after school.
David listened.
Not with half his attention on his phone.
Not while rushing to finish a work email.
He asked questions.
He learned the names of her instructors.
He asked about the drawings spread across her portfolio.
And when Nia hesitated over a difficult question about her design, he waited for her to find her own words.
Later, as they prepared to leave, Nia stopped beside the dining table.
“Dad?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
She looked around their little apartment.
“Do you miss the old house?”
David considered the question.
“Yes,” he answered.
Nia nodded slowly.
“Me too. Sometimes.”
He approached her.
“Missing parts of something doesn't mean leaving was wrong.”
She glanced at the drawings above the table.
“Do you think things will ever feel normal again?”
David put an arm around her shoulders.
“Maybe not the old normal.”
She looked up.
“Then what?”
“We'll build a better one.”
Nia smiled faintly.
He reached for her portfolio.
But before he could lift it, she asked one last question.
“Dad, do you remember what you told me after Mom died?”
David knew immediately.
He looked toward their small dining table.
“There will always be room for you at my table.”
Nia nodded.
“For a while, I thought you forgot.”
His throat tightened.
“I acted like I'd forgotten. I'm sorry.”
She stepped forward and hugged him.
“I think I believe you again.”
David held her close.
He understood that trust wouldn't return because of one conversation.
It would return through ordinary mornings, kept promises, and the steady work of being present.
He kissed the top of her head.
Then he picked up her portfolio.
“Come on, future architect. You've got a building to design.”
Nia laughed.
It was a sound he hadn't realized he'd missed so much.
They walked out together.
Behind them, sunlight fell across the little dining table.
There were two breakfast plates, two chairs, and drawings on the wall.
Nothing about the apartment was grand.
May you like
But Nia had chosen her own place at the table that morning.
And for the first time in a long time, she hadn't been afraid someone would tell her to move.
