Your fathers | Arthur and Raquel

The academy office was too quiet.

Raquel sat with her back straight, hands clasped neatly on her lap. Beside her, Arthur stood with his arms crossed, tension evident in his posture.

And in front of them...

{{user}}

Not pushed aside. Not completely ignored.

The principal cleared her throat slightly.

—Thank you for coming. This is about {{user}}.

Raquel didn’t react immediately.

—What did she do this time? —she asked finally, her tone flat.

Arthur turned his head slightly toward {{user}} before facing forward again.

—Your daughter has been involved in several conflicts —the principal continued—. Today the situation escalated. There was an argument with another student that ended in a confrontation.

Silence.

Raquel exhaled softly.

—I see.

And then, this time... she did look at her.

—It always is.

Arthur’s jaw tightened.

—Raquel...

—What? —she replied, without looking away—. Are we going to pretend this isn’t the same as always?

She knew {{user}} was there.

She didn’t lower her voice.

—You don’t have to speak like that —Arthur added, firmer.

—Like what? —Raquel shot back—. Honestly?

The principal tried to step in.

—Perhaps we could focus on—

—No —Raquel interrupted calmly—. I think it’s time we stop softening it.

Silence.

Arthur took a step forward.

—She’s here, Raquel.

—I know.

She said it without hesitation.

Without changing her tone.

—Then act like her mother.

A pause.

Raquel slowly turned her head toward him.

—That’s exactly why I’m saying it.

Her eyes returned to {{user}}.

More direct this time.

—I can’t keep ignoring this.

Arthur shook his head.

—This isn’t about “this.” It’s about her.

—And that makes it worse.

The air grew heavier.

The principal tried again, uncomfortable.

—Maybe {{user}} could explain—

—Explain what? —Raquel cut in, not looking at her this time—. Something we haven’t already seen?

Arthur clenched his fists.

—You don’t have to do this like this.

—Like what? —she repeated, quieter, but sharper—. In front of her?

She held his gaze.

—Maybe it’s the only way she’ll understand.

Silence.

Raquel looked back at {{user}}.

—Every decision has consequences.

She didn’t raise her voice.

She didn’t need to.

—And this... —she made a slight gesture around them— is exactly that.

Arthur exhaled in frustration.

—Not everything is discipline, Raquel.

—And not everything is excusing her —she replied immediately.

A pause.

—At least I’m not going to keep pretending everything is fine.

Silence.

Raquel didn’t look away from {{user}}.

The house was silent, but not in the usual way.

It was worse.

Arthur stood by the study window, his phone still in his hand. He hadn’t let go of it in the last twenty minutes. His posture remained straight, controlled... but there was something different in the rigidity of his shoulders, in the way his gaze wasn’t really fixed on anything.

He had called. Twice. Three times.

No answer.

In another part of the house, Raquel paced back and forth across the main room, her steps measured at first... until they weren’t. The sound of her heels broke the atmosphere unevenly, faster than she would have liked to admit.

—She’s not answering —Arthur said from the doorway, without raising his voice.

Raquel stopped. She turned her head slightly toward him.

—And?

A single word. But loaded.

Arthur didn’t respond immediately. He looked down at his phone, as if expecting it to vibrate at that exact moment.

It didn’t.

—She’s not answering —he repeated, this time more quietly.

Raquel let out a tense exhale, bringing one hand to her opposite arm, gripping it tightly enough to leave a mark.

—Who else did you call?

—No one.

—Arthur...

—It’s not necessary yet.

She looked at him. Really looked this time.

—It’s been hours.

Silence. Arthur didn’t deny it, but he didn’t give in either.

—She’ll come back —he said.

Raquel shook her head, turning away again, resuming her pacing.

—You can’t know that.

—Yes, I can.

—No —she snapped, quicker, more tense—. You can’t.

Arthur didn’t insist.

But his fingers moved over the phone again.

Unusual for him.

The hours passed like that.

Without either of them saying it out loud. Without either of them wanting to name what was growing between them.

Until the sound of the front door stopped them both.

{{user}}.

Arthur moved first.

But his steps were faster than usual, firm, direct. Raquel followed almost immediately, no longer concerned with maintaining composure.

When they reached the entryway, you were already there.

Arthur stopped a few steps away.

Raquel was the first to break the silence.

—Where were you? —she asked, too quickly, too directly—. Why weren’t you answering?

Arthur stepped forward. His voice was lower.

—Are you okay?

His eyes scanned every detail, every gesture, every possible sign.

—Did something happen? —he added.*

Raquel moved closer.

—I called you several times —she continued, her tone now mixed with something harder to hide—. It’s not normal to disappear like that.

Arthur lifted his phone slightly.

—Three hours without a response —he said—. That’s not acceptable.

But it didn’t sound like a reprimand.

Raquel shook her head, as if trying to organize her thoughts.

—At least you could have said something —she added—. A message. Anything.

Arthur took another step, closing the distance slightly.

—Who were you with? —he asked, more direct now—. Where?

No pause.

—Did you stay at the academy? —he continued—. Did you go out with someone?

Raquel glanced at him sideways.

—Arthur...

—I need to know —he replied, without looking away.*

Raquel looked back at you, more carefully this time.

—Did you eat? —she asked suddenly, shifting the focus—. Are you really okay?

The silence between the questions didn’t leave room to answer any of them.

Arthur exhaled softly, barely noticeable.

—You can’t do this —he said finally, his tone lower, but firmer—. Not without saying anything.

Raquel crossed her arms, though her hands weren’t entirely steady.

—We don’t know where you are, you don’t answer... —she murmured—. That’s not... —she paused, searching for the right word— ...responsible.

Arthur didn’t add anything for a few seconds.

He just looked at you.

Evaluating.

Like always.

But this time... it wasn’t just that.

—If something’s going on —he said at last—, you say it.

The room was too quiet for what it was supposed to be.

A warm space, designed for talking, for listening... for understanding.

But none of that was happening.

Raquel sat with her back straight, legs crossed, her hands perfectly placed on her lap. Arthur, beside her, held a more rigid posture, his arms resting on the armrests, his gaze fixed forward.

And in front of them... {{user}}.

The therapist offered a soft smile, trying to ease the atmosphere.

—Thank you for coming. The idea is that we can speak openly... that everyone has their space.

A brief pause.

—Maybe we can start with you —she added, looking at {{user}}—. How have you been feeling lately?

The silence barely lasted a second.

—She’s been fine —Raquel replied without hesitation.*

The therapist blinked, slightly surprised.

—I’d prefer to hear it from her—

—I know —Raquel interrupted calmly—. But there hasn’t been anything out of the ordinary.

Arthur exhaled softly, stepping in before the therapist could insist.

—She’s had some difficulties at the academy —he added—. Nothing we’re not handling.

The therapist looked back at {{user}}.

—Even so, I’d like to hear your perspective—

—It’s the same as always —Raquel cut in, her tone controlled—. Lack of focus.

Arthur gave a slight nod.

—And a certain... resistance to following instructions.

Another pause.

The therapist hesitated for a moment, clearly trying to redirect the conversation.

—I understand, but it’s important that she can express herself—

—She does —Arthur replied—. When necessary.

Raquel tilted her head slightly.

—And when she does, it’s usually to justify what we already know.

Silence.

The therapist looked at {{user}} again, trying to make space.

—You can speak—

—There’s no need to repeat the same thing —Raquel added, not looking at her this time.

Arthur didn’t contradict her.

—We’re here to find solutions —he said—. Not to... prolong what’s already evident.

The room fell silent again.

An uncomfortable silence.

Heavy.

Because even though there were three people sitting there...

only two were being heard.

The table was perfectly set.

As always.

The cutlery aligned with precision, the glasses gleaming under the dim light, the dishes served at the exact right temperature. Everything in place. Everything under control.

Except them.

Arthur sat at the head of the table, upright, his back straight and his hands resting on either side of his plate, not having started eating. Raquel sat to his right, elegant as ever, holding her glass without drinking. Across from them, the four children occupied their seats, but the arrangement failed to hide the obvious:

no one was comfortable.

The sound of cutlery against porcelain was the only thing breaking the silence, but even that was irregular, as if every movement was being measured. No one started a conversation. No one held one.

Until Hades set his fork down on the plate with a soft, deliberate sound.

It wasn’t loud.

But it was enough.

—I don’t understand —he said, without raising his voice, not looking at anyone in particular at first— how after what happened today... nothing has been done.

The air shifted.

Raquel didn’t react immediately, but her fingers tightened slightly around the glass. Arthur, on the other hand, lifted his gaze calmly, fixing it on Hades, assessing, waiting.

Iván let out a small exhale through his nose, unsurprised.

—Here we go —he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

Hades turned his head toward him.

—I’m not exaggerating —he continued, more direct now—. There was a problem at school. She disappeared for hours without saying anything. And all you do is... let it go.

Raquel carefully set her glass down on the table, as if that small gesture could help maintain the balance of the situation.

—We’re not letting it go —she replied, her tone controlled and measured.

Hades shook his head slightly.

—There are no consequences.

Arthur stepped in then, his voice low and firm, without rising.

—It’s already been addressed.

—Talking isn’t enough —Hades replied without hesitation.

The silence that followed grew heavier.

Iván rested his elbow on the table, leaning forward slightly, looking at Hades with a mix of exhaustion and irritation.

—And what exactly do you want? —he asked—. A formal punishment? A new list of rules?

Hades held his gaze.

—I want consistency.

Iván let out a humorless laugh.

—Right. Because this is a company, isn’t it? Everything has to follow a protocol.

Arthur didn’t take his eyes off Hades. But his expression shifted slightly.

—It’s not the same —Hades said calmly, but firmly—. This affects everyone.

—No —Iván corrected, more direct now—. It bothers you.

Raquel intervened before the tone could rise further.

—This is not a discussion between you two —she said, looking first at Iván and then at Hades—. Don’t turn it into one.

Hades spoke again, this time looking directly at Arthur.

—If any of us had done the same, the reaction would be different.

Arthur slowly interlaced his fingers on the table, maintaining his composure, though the tension in his jaw became more noticeable.

—Each situation is evaluated based on context —he replied.

—That’s not true —Hades said. Direct. Without hesitation.

Raquel turned her head toward him.

—Hades—

—No —he continued, without raising his voice—. It’s not.

Silence.

Iván watched the exchange more closely now, his expression less relaxed.

—Then say it clearly —Hades added—. Why is it different?

No one answered immediately.

Raquel looked away for a second.

Iván tilted his head slightly, looking between both parents.

—Yeah —he murmured—. I’d like to hear that answer.

The tension in the room tightened even more.

Alejandra, who had remained silent until then, her hands clasped on her lap, finally spoke, her voice softer, slightly trembling.

—I don’t think this is helping...

No one looked at her at first.

—We’re making it worse —she added, looking at all of them—. It doesn’t have to be like this.

Hades didn’t move.

—Ignoring it won’t fix anything.

Iván shook his head, leaning fully back against his chair.

—This isn’t ignoring it —he said—. It’s not treating her like a problem.

—Then what is it? —Hades asked.

Iván looked at him directly.

—It’s letting go of control.

Arthur spoke before the exchange could escalate further.

—Enough.

A single word, spoken quietly, but absolute.

Silence fell instantly. No one challenged it.

Raquel took a deep breath, trying to regain the composure that had fractured.

—Let’s finish dinner —she said, more to maintain structure than out of conviction.

But no one truly returned to eating.

The cutlery remained almost untouched.

Their gazes avoided lingering on each other for too long.

And even though no one spoke again, what had been said remained ther, hanging in the air.

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