Chapter Eight – The Older Man’s Secret
The older man finally walked toward the opening.
His polished shoes stopped just before the broken wood.
He did not enter.
Instead, he ran one hand along the edge of the hidden door.
The gesture was unexpectedly gentle.
The father noticed.
“You’ve been through there.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“A long time ago.”
“How long?”
The older man looked toward the dark passage.
“Before you were married.”
The father laughed once, without humour.
“So everyone knew except me?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
The older man hesitated.
That hesitation was enough.
The mother spoke before her husband could.
“My father?”
The room changed.
The older man looked at her.
For the first time, real emotion broke through his composure.
Regret.
The mother understood immediately.
“My father knew about this place.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes hardened.
“And you both agreed never to tell us.”
“It was more complicated.”
“That is what people say when the truth makes them look cruel.”
The older man accepted the words without defending himself.
The boy watched.
Adults often told children that secrets existed to protect them.
Yet as he looked around the room, he began to suspect secrets mostly protected the people who created them.
