Chapter 3 Seeking Redemption

• RILEY'S POV
• They say silence can be peaceful. Healing, even.
• Whoever said that never lived in a house with Philip.
• It’s not the kind of silence that calms. It’s the kind that watches. That follows you from room to room like a shadow with a grudge. Ever since the club night, it’s wrapped around our home like plastic wrap over a wound—tight, suffocating, pretending to protect, but really just hiding something rotten underneath.
• So I cleaned.
• Scrubbed like forgiveness could be found at the bottom of a bucket. Mopped like lemon-scented floors could replace actual communication. It was easier than sitting still. Easier than asking him what he was thinking, or worse, being reminded of what he already thought of me.
• He hadn’t said a word since I stumbled into the house drunk. Just… looked at me. The kind of look that makes you feel small, like you’re taking up space you haven’t earned.
• I cleaned the bathroom until the bleach made my nose sting. I vacuumed the hall twice. I scrubbed the kitchen sink like it personally wronged me. And when I couldn’t ignore the knot in my chest any longer, I went into his room.
• I told myself it was to clean, to help. That maybe if he saw effort, if he saw me trying to be different, maybe he’d say something. Anything.
• His room was annoyingly neat. Of course it was. Philip has always been meticulous—folded clothes, labeled folders, pens arranged by ink color. I wiped the window frame, reorganized a shelf, and then spotted the drawer. It was slightly ajar, a little off like something was hiding in there.
• The envelope wasn’t marked private. No red tape. No warnings. Just a plain white thing buried beneath receipts and manuals.
• I don’t know what I was looking for. I wasn’t trying to snoop, not really. But my hand reached in like it had a mind of its own. Like I already knew this moment was waiting for me.
• I opened it.
• And just like that, the floor of my life gave out.
• My heart didn’t beat. My lungs forgot how to pull air. My whole body just... stilled.
• Dad.
• Bills.
• A number we couldn’t touch even if we pooled our entire lives together.
• I sat down hard on the couch, the letter trembling in my hands. The mop slipped from my fingers and clattered to the floor, water pooling near my feet.
• He didn’t tell me.
• We were this close to disaster, and Philip didn’t tell me.
• I don’t know how long I sat there. Long enough for the sun to change position. Long enough for the guilt to turn into something else—something bitter.
• When the front door creaked open and I heard his familiar, steady footsteps, my heart started pounding again.
• He walked into the living room, expression unreadable as always. Keys dropped into the bowl. Backpack slung off one shoulder.
• I held the envelope in plain sight.
• “Why didn’t you tell me about Dad’s bills?” My voice didn’t shake, but my fingers did.
• Philip looked at the letter, then at me. And in the same breath, he said, “Did you go through my stuff?”
• I blinked. “That’s not the answer to my question, Philip.”
• His jaw tightened. “And since when did I become answerable to you?”
• And there it was. That familiar condescension. Like he was always the adult and I was the irresponsible little sister who couldn’t be trusted with the truth.
• “Fuck!” The word flew out, louder than I meant it to.
• His eyes flashed. “Watch your mouth when you’re talking to me, young lady.”
• Young lady. That tone again. Like I was a kid. Like I hadn’t just found out our father might be kicked out of a hospital bed because we couldn’t pay for him to stay alive.
• “I don’t care!” I snapped. “Dad is dying in that hospital. We’re broke. And somehow, I had to find out by accident?”
• He sighed. Not regretful. Just tired. “How am I supposed to tell you when you’re too busy wasting yourself in clubs? When you're up in your room shedding tears for a guy who isn't worth you? When you're out with Selene and Jay, living life like it's so fickle? Without a care in the world! How do you expect me to tell you when you got an amazing job but you blew it up because of the jerk you decided to date! Just how Riley! You've been living your life recklessly… with no accountability whatsoever like some stray cat or a loose kid! So don't blame me for not telling you!”
• So even without saying it, he said it.
• You're a disgrace to this family Riley! This is not how any reputable lady is supposed to act!
• The words hit hard. Not because he was wrong—he wasn’t, not completely. But because he’d already decided who I was, and no amount of scrubbing his baseboards would change that.
• I stood, clutching the envelope. “We’re a month from the deadline. How are we going to get the money, Philip?”
• He didn’t answer. He just stared past me, jaw set like he was trying not to say something worse.
• That was his answer.
• That night, I lay in bed listening to the silence again. Not Philip’s this time—mine. The silence of being powerless, painful. Of watching someone you love fade while the world demands numbers you don’t have.
• Philip wouldn’t bend. Not for money. Not for help. Not even for Dad.
• But I would. Philip won’t take a loan. Won’t ask for help. Won’t bend his morals for anything, not even for the man who raised us. He says dignity is everything. But what use is dignity when you can’t afford to keep your father alive?
• I would’ve done it differently. I will do it differently.
• Because pride won’t keep Dad breathing.
• And I’m not going to sit here and let this house swallow us whole while Philip plays hero with empty hands.