What He Didn't Say
by Sthri
· 18/02/2026
Published 18/02/2026 11:40
My father called. My mother
was crying in the background.
He didn't say. He chose another
subject. He made a sound—
a laugh. It came after
a long pause. Too bright.
Too long. I could see through the laughter
to the lie. To the fright
he was gathering into
the shape of a man.
A man who knew
exactly the plan:
laugh so loud that I
can't hear what he heard.
Pretend. That's why
he was a father. That's the word
he was teaching me.
How to turn sound
into silence. How to be
the kind of man who surrounds
the breaking with noise.
Who calls it strength.
Who teaches his boys
to go the length
of a lie. To believe
that this is love.
To never leave
the pretense. To shove
the sound of her crying
down into a place
where I'd spend my whole life
trying to find it.