Chapter 2 - The Things She Learned to Hide
Marcus didn't sleep.
For hours, he sat at the kitchen table with the two halves of Nia's silver star in front of him.
He kept remembering her question.
Would you have come looking for me?
He wanted to say yes.
He wanted to believe he would have noticed his daughter missing from the party.
But the truth was uncomfortable.
He had spent most of the evening greeting relatives, checking food, arranging chairs, and making sure everything looked right.
He hadn't checked on Nia once.
Across the hallway, a small light still shone beneath her bedroom door.
Marcus knocked gently.
"Can I come in?"
Nia was sitting on her bed in pajamas, holding a worn stuffed rabbit.
"Okay."
He sat beside her.
"Grandma loved your present."
Nia smiled faintly.
Earlier that evening, Evelyn had opened the little handmade scrapbook Nia had spent weeks preparing.
Inside were photographs of their afternoons baking cookies, an old movie ticket, and drawings of things Nia wanted them to do together.
One page showed a little girl and an elderly woman sitting beneath an enormous purple tree.
Underneath, Nia had written:
"Places Grandma and Me Haven't Been Yet."
Evelyn had cried when she read it.
Marcus had watched his mother embrace Nia and wondered why his daughter had looked so surprised to be celebrated.
Now, sitting in the quiet bedroom, he began to understand.
"Sweetheart," he said, "has Vanessa kept you out of things before?"
Nia's fingers tightened around the rabbit.
"Sometimes."
"What kind of things?"
She hesitated.
"When grown-ups come over, she says I should stay upstairs."
"Why?"
"Because I talk too much. And sometimes because my clothes don't match the house."
Marcus looked at the pink pajamas covered in tiny moons.
"Your clothes don't match the house?"
Nia nodded seriously.
"She says everything has to look nice."
Marcus felt something heavy settle in his chest.
"Does she say anything else?"
Nia stared down.
"She says Daddy works hard, and I shouldn't make things harder for him."
He remembered all the evenings he had returned from work to find the house spotless and dinner waiting.
Vanessa would tell him that Nia had already eaten or was tired.
Sometimes she said Nia preferred her room.
He had accepted those explanations.
He had even felt grateful that Vanessa handled everything while he worked long hours.
Marcus rubbed his forehead.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Nia's voice became very small.
"Because when I tell you something, you ask Vanessa. Then she gets mad when you're gone."
He went still.
That was true.
Whenever Nia complained about a disagreement, Marcus had called Vanessa into the room, believing that hearing both sides was fair.
He hadn't considered what happened afterward.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Nia leaned against him.
He wrapped his arms around her and stayed until she fell asleep.
The next morning, Evelyn arrived carrying a container of leftover cake.
She found Marcus washing dishes.
"How's my granddaughter?"
"Sleeping."
Evelyn studied him.
"How much did you know?"
"Not enough."
"Marcus."
He stopped washing.
His mother set the cake down.
"Last month, Nia asked me whether somebody could stop being family if the people in the house didn't want them anymore."
Marcus felt the blood drain from his face.
"What did you tell her?"
"That family isn't something she has to earn."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Evelyn's expression softened, but she didn't excuse herself.
"She begged me not to. Said she didn't want another argument. I should have found a way to help sooner."
Marcus leaned against the counter.
"I thought she was happy."
"You thought she was quiet," Evelyn replied. "Those aren't the same thing."
After his mother left, Marcus began looking through the pile of school papers on the kitchen counter.
Beneath advertisements and old receipts, he found a blue folder with Nia's name written across the front.
Inside were two messages from her teacher.
The first mentioned that Nia had stopped volunteering during classroom activities.
The second requested a meeting about changes in her confidence and behavior.
Both were weeks old.
On the back of the second notice, someone had written:
"Discussed at home. No further concern."
Marcus recognized Vanessa's handwriting.
He read the note again.
Then he opened his laptop and checked the school's parent portal.
There were additional messages he had never read.
Vanessa had answered them.
He had given her access to manage school communications two years earlier.
And for two years, he had barely checked.
Marcus stared at the screen.
May you like
He had trusted someone else to tell him when his daughter needed him.
Now he had to find out how many times she'd tried.
