There was a pause.
Daniel knew his children.
He also knew their history.
Emily and Noah had not always fought.
Before their mother died, they had been close.
Emily had been the protective older sister who walked Noah home from elementary school, scared off bullies, and taught him how to sneak Halloween candy into his room without their parents noticing.
Then Rebecca got sick.
Everything inside the Bennett family shifted.
Emily reacted by becoming louder.
Noah became quieter.
Their father worked more.
Doctors filled their calendar.
Meals became takeout containers.
Hospital bags stayed permanently packed.
Noah spent hours sitting beside his mother while she listened to him practice guitar.
Emily avoided the bedroom.
She avoided the hospital.
She avoided almost everything connected to Rebecca’s illness.
After Rebecca died, Noah inherited the guitar because Rebecca had specifically told him to keep playing.
Emily received her mother’s jewelry box.
At the time, Emily had said she did not care.
But Daniel had noticed the way she looked at the guitar.
He had simply never understood what that look meant.
“Do not accuse your sister of anything,” Daniel told Noah.
“I already did.”
“Noah.”
“She’s lying.”
“You don’t know that.”
“She has a cut on her finger.”
“That still isn’t proof.”
Noah’s voice rose.
“Why are you defending her?”
“I’m not defending anybody. I’m telling you not to turn this into something worse before I get home.”
“It’s already worse.”
Daniel sighed.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
The words escaped before Noah could stop them.
His father fell silent.
Noah immediately regretted it.
But he did not apologize.
“You’re right,” Daniel said quietly. “I’m not there. I’ll be home tonight. Leave the guitar exactly where it is.”
“Why?”
“Just leave it.”
The call ended.
At school, Noah barely spoke.
His best friend, Mateo Ruiz, noticed before first period.
“What happened to you?”
“Nothing.”
“That face is definitely something.”
Noah opened his locker.
“My guitar got broken.”
Mateo’s expression changed.
“Your mom’s guitar?”
Noah nodded.
“How?”
“My sister.”
“You saw her do it?”
“No.”
Mateo leaned against the locker.
“Then how do you know?”
“I know.”
“Noah.”
“She was standing there.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“She had a cut on her finger.”
Mateo hesitated.
“That’s still not exactly a confession.”
Noah slammed the locker harder than he intended.
“Why is everybody defending her?”
“I’m not.”
“It sounds like it.”
“I’m trying to keep you from saying something you can’t take back.”
Noah walked away.
Music class should have helped.
It did not.
The school was preparing for its spring arts night, and Noah had been scheduled to perform a solo acoustic piece in three weeks.
His teacher, Mr. Callahan, was excited about it.
Noah was not anymore.
When Mr. Callahan asked him to stay after class, Noah knew why.
“You didn’t bring the Fender.”
“No.”
“You’ve brought that guitar every Tuesday for two years.”
Noah stared at the floor.
“It broke.”
Mr. Callahan studied him.
“Accident?”
“I don’t know.”
“You want to borrow one from the department?”
“No.”
“You need something to practice on.”