Chapter 2 - The Backpack by the Door
That evening, Marcus found Nia sitting on the edge of her bed.
Her backpack lay open beside her.
Inside were two T-shirts, a pair of pajamas, a toothbrush, and the small blue photo album her mother had made before she died.
Marcus stopped in the doorway.
“Sweetheart, are you going somewhere?”
Nia didn't look up.
“Can I stay with Aunt Camille?”
The question landed harder than he expected.
“Why would you need to do that?”
Nia folded a shirt carefully.
“Because Vanessa doesn't like me.”
Marcus pulled a chair closer but kept enough distance not to crowd her.
“Nia, what happened today was wrong. I'm going to handle it.”
“You always say that.”
He looked at her.
She continued folding.
“When her bracelet went missing, you told me not to make things worse.”
Marcus remembered.
“And when she said I broke her perfume bottle, you made me apologize.”
“I thought you—”
“You thought I was lying.”
His daughter said it without raising her voice.
Marcus looked down.
The perfume bottle had fallen from a bathroom shelf. Vanessa later admitted she had knocked it over herself, but Marcus had never gone back to correct the accusation.
At the time, he had called it a misunderstanding.
Now he was hearing what that word had meant to Nia.
“Why didn't you tell me you were still upset?”
Nia stopped folding.
“Because when I tell you something, she says I'm trying to turn you against her.”
Marcus leaned forward.
“And what do I do?”
Nia finally looked at him.
“You tell me to be respectful.”
The room fell silent.
Marcus had married Vanessa eighteen months earlier, five years after losing Nia's mother, Danielle.
He had wanted his daughter to grow up in a full household again.
Vanessa had been warm during their courtship. She helped with school pickups, cooked Nia's favorite meals, and sat through a painfully long middle-school concert without complaining.
After the wedding, things changed slowly.
A criticism about Nia leaving shoes in the hallway.
A complaint that she spent too much time talking about her mother.
A suggestion that Marcus was spoiling her by attending every school event.
Each incident had seemed too small to threaten a marriage.
Together, they had become something Marcus no longer recognized.
He reached toward the little blue album.
“Your mom made this when you were six.”
Nia pulled it back.
“I know.”
He withdrew his hand.
“I'm sorry.”
She stared at the zipper on her backpack.
“Are you sorry because you found that receipt?”
Marcus felt the question settle heavily between them.
“I'm sorry because I should've been listening before today.”
Nia nodded once, but she didn't close the bag.
Downstairs, Vanessa called for him.
“Marcus! We need to talk!”
He remained seated.
“Let me call Aunt Camille,” he said.
Nia looked startled.
“You're not mad?”
“No. If you want to spend the night somewhere you feel comfortable, we'll arrange it.”
Her shoulders lowered slightly.
Marcus called his older sister.
Camille listened quietly, then asked only one question.
“Does Nia want me to come?”
“Yes.”
“I'm on my way.”
When Marcus returned downstairs, Vanessa stood beside the kitchen island.
The boutique receipt lay on the counter where he had placed it.
“You called your sister?” she demanded.
“Yes.”
“So now everyone gets to know our business?”
“Nia wants to stay with Camille tonight.”
Vanessa gave a sharp laugh.
“Perfect. She's finally getting exactly what she wanted.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means she's been trying to push me out of this family since the beginning.”
Marcus studied his wife.
“She's thirteen, Vanessa.”
“And thirteen-year-olds can manipulate adults.”
“Maybe. But adults are responsible for the accusations they make.”
Vanessa's expression hardened.
“You're taking her side.”
“I'm trying to find out what happened.”
“Then ask her why she's always so eager to make me look bad.”
Marcus was about to answer when he noticed something tucked beneath a grocery flyer on the counter.
A school envelope.
Nia's name was printed across the front.
Inside was a note from the school counselor requesting a parent meeting.
The date was three weeks earlier.
Marcus looked up.
“Why haven't I seen this?”
Vanessa glanced at the envelope.
“Oh, that? I handled it.”
“Handled what?”
“She was having adjustment problems. I told the counselor we'd work on it at home.”
Marcus read the final sentence of the note.
Nia has expressed increasing anxiety about returning home after school.
His hands went cold.
Upstairs, he heard Nia pulling her backpack zipper closed.
May you like
He suddenly understood that the accusations had not simply made his daughter unhappy.
They had made home a place she was preparing to leave.
