The Wolf's Whispers to the Moon [SB19 Pablo]

Chapter 55: Hard to Forget

Their father walked out, his footsteps heavy and deliberate, echoing through the hall before the door closed behind him. A brittle silence settled in his wake.

Jared leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, his face tense but unreadable. Pablo stayed where he was, hands shoved into his pockets, jaw tight. Their mother stood between them, looking smaller than I'd ever seen her—like the years had suddenly caught up all at once.

She opened her mouth, hesitated, then looked down.
"I didn't know how to protect you," she said quietly. "From him. From... us. I just kept thinking that if you did everything right—everything we didn't—you'd be okay."

Jared scoffed, but it was soft, almost resigned. "You never asked us what we wanted. You just decided for us."

She winced, like the truth of it landed harder than she'd expected.
"You were so young," she whispered. "You needed guidance. Stability. We thought if we laid out a clear path, you wouldn't have to struggle."

Pablo's voice cut through, even and calm, but with a raw edge beneath it. "You didn't just make a path. You built walls. And every time we tried to knock them down, you just made them taller."

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away quickly, as if embarrassed by the display. "I didn't want to be my mother," she murmured. "When I left home, I promised myself I wouldn't raise my kids the way she raised me. I wanted you to have everything I didn't. Safety. Education. Respect."

Jared pushed off the doorframe, taking a slow breath. "It didn't feel like respect. It felt like control. Like we were disappointments before we even had a chance to show you who we were."

Her face crumpled, and this time, she didn't bother hiding her tears.
"I know," she choked out. "I know now. I was so afraid you'd get lost. I didn't see that I was the one keeping you trapped."

Pablo took a step closer, but his hands stayed buried in his pockets, shoulders tense. "You pushed us so hard to fit into your plans that you didn't see what it was doing to us. It's not just about being hurt, Mom. It's... it's more than that. You made us feel like we weren't good enough unless we followed your script."

Her lips trembled, and she swallowed hard. "I thought I was doing the right thing," she whispered.

Jared sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We're not perfect either, Mom. We messed up too. But when Dad acts like everything we're doing is some kind of betrayal... it just makes it worse."

A fresh wave of guilt washed over her face. "He's scared," she admitted. "Scared you'll end up resenting him—or us—the way he resented his own father."

Pablo's jaw clenched, but he didn't respond to that. The ache in his expression was plain to see, but he wasn't ready to bridge that gap. Not yet.

Jared moved closer, his voice quieter, more careful. "We're not asking you to change overnight. Just... to try. To meet us halfway."

She nodded, wiping at her face with the back of her hand. "I can do that," she promised. "I can try."

There was a long, fragile pause. Pablo glanced at Jared, then at their mother. He didn't move to close the distance between them, and I could see the tension coiled tight in his frame—the need to say more, but the fear of letting himself be that vulnerable.

Pablo's jaw clenched, and his next words were sharp, almost cutting. "Yeah, you can try, but don't expect us to be the perfect little family you want the world to see."

She looked at him—hurt, but not surprised. A flicker of understanding passed between them, as if she knew his anger was just the surface of something deeper.