The Daughter Allowed Only 10 Seconds of Voice Chapter 11

The Daughter Allowed Only 10 Seconds of Voice Chapter 11

Three years later, I attended an academic conference in Silverpine as one of Northreach’s top

representatives.

Each academy was given thirty minutes to present. Everyone unanimously chose me to speak.

I walked onstage, adjusted the microphone, and began.

I turned thirty minutes of material into forty, and no one rushed me or walked out.

Scholars online and in the room wanted to ask questions.

Afterward, several research institutes reached out, asking if I’d be interested in joining them after graduation.

Corinne was pleased with my performance and asked if I wanted to keep doing research with her.

The conference had been a huge success for me.

As I left, I looked at my poster displayed outside the venue.

My whole career, condensed onto one poster, hung by the entrance.

Corin called me again later. I blocked him.

He turned the website into a private blog open to me, filled the home page with my photos, and kept posting updates about the family.

Mira’s grades had plummeted.

Her teachers suggested Mom take Mira out of school until she was better.

Mom ignored them and insisted Mira keep attending, trying to force her to learn to speak.

Learning all this, I found the whole family absurd.

Just as absurd as right now, when Mom and Dad had tracked me down and found me.

I excused myself from my colleagues and walked over to them.

“What are you doing here?”

A smile spread across their faces.

“Dad heard there was an academic conference here and hoped he might run into you.”

Three years apart, and they’d aged so much.

Mom’s gray hair nearly outnumbered the black, and the lines around her eyes were etched deep.

She stood beside Dad, lifting a hand.

As if to reach for me, then let it fall.

Dad’s back had hunched, and he had to tilt his head up slightly to look at me.

Corin stood a step behind, one hand on Mira’s arm.

Mira kept her head down, hair covering most of her face, wearing a coat that was clearly a size too big.

She used to always look put–together. Now she was rumpled, as if she’d grabbed whatever was nearest.

Corin pulled Mira forward.

“Apologize to Tessa! Tessa, we know we were wrong. Please come home. We need you.‘

I looked at Mira. She didn’t look back.

She couldn’t bring herself to.

“If there’s nothing else, I have things to do.”

I paused. “Instead of apologizing and asking for forgiveness, take care of yourselves. Get Mira the help she needs.”

Mom spoke suddenly, her voice trembling.

“Tessa, I didn’t understand a word you said up there, But I could tell you were happy.”

“They said you’re going somewhere else to do research. Could you…”

She paused, searching for the right words.

“Could you call Mom once in a while?”

I didn’t answer.

Beside her, Dad tugged Mom’s sleeve and whispered, “That’s enough.”

He looked at me, like he had so much to say, all of it stuck in his throat.

In the end, he only said, “Go do what you need to do.”

I nodded, gave them one last look, and walked toward the direction Dean had gone.

As the car started, my phone lit up.

A text from an unknown number. Just a few words.

“Tessa, I’m sorry.

I didn’t save the number.

After that, I cut off contact with them for good.

They’d once wanted me silent above all else.

Now I’d finally given all my words to the people who wanted to hear them.

As for that house…

Let it stay quiet.