“You’re staring at that list as if the numbers might suddenly come alive and crawl across the page like poisonous insects.” Ethan did not even look up. He continued polishing the lenses of his surveying level with painstaking care, as though nothing in the world mattered more than keeping the instrument spotless. “She didn’t get in. So what? These things happen. Life goes on. She’ll find a job.”
“Ethan, she missed it by only a few points. That doesn’t mean she knows nothing. She was simply unlucky.” Claire kept her voice low, fighting to remain calm while anxiety tightened inside her chest. “We agreed back in the spring that if she didn’t qualify for a scholarship, we would use our backup plan.”
“What backup plan?” Ethan finally set the instrument aside. The desk lamp flashed across the lenses of his glasses.
“The motorcycle,” Claire said quietly as she sat down across from him. “Your Kawasaki. It’s been sitting unused for almost two years. You already have someone willing to buy it. The money would cover Emily’s first year, and afterward she could try to transfer onto a scholarship. She’s bright. She can do it.”
“No.”
The answer was brief, harsh, and absolute.
Ethan removed his glasses and began wiping them with a cloth.
“Ethan, at least hear me out…” Claire’s voice grew firmer. “You don’t even need that motorcycle anymore. You said yourself that you were finished with riding fast. Selling it could give Emily a chance to study. We’re talking about her future.”
“I’m not selling the motorcycle. End of discussion.” Ethan put his glasses back on. “She needs to learn to take responsibility for her own mistakes. If she didn’t get in, then she didn’t work hard enough. I’m not paying for someone else’s irresponsibility.”
“Irresponsibility? She studied from morning until night for six months! You saw it with your own eyes!” Claire could no longer keep her temper under control. “Is that piece of machinery really more important to you than your own daughter?”
“Don’t call perfectly good equipment a piece of machinery. I have plans for that motorcycle. That’s all. I’m not discussing this anymore.”
For Claire, it suddenly felt as though a wall had risen between them—cold, smooth, and impossible to break through. She said nothing else. She stood, pushed back her chair, and left the room.
Emily sat in darkness in her bedroom. She wasn’t crying, but her dry, reddened eyes said more than tears ever could. Claire brought her a cup of tea and placed it beside her without a word. Nothing she said could make things better now.
Nearly three weeks passed. The tension inside the house grew heavier by the day. Ethan behaved as though nothing had happened. At the same time, he was home less and less often. Claire knew where he spent much of his time—with Rachel, the widow of his late brother Daniel.
After Daniel’s death, Ethan had changed completely. He became quiet and withdrawn, rarely sharing what he thought or felt. Back then, Claire had been the one urging him not to abandon Rachel and Luke, Daniel’s son. She had told him to stand by them and help however he could. She believed that was what family was supposed to do.
The phone rang on Saturday.
“Claire, thank you so much!” Rachel exclaimed, sounding delighted.
“For what?” Claire asked, confused.
“For the motorcycle! Luke is absolutely thrilled. Ethan brought it over yesterday and told him it was a gift for his eighteenth birthday.”
Claire slowly lowered herself into a chair. A roar filled her ears, and her fingers turned cold.
“But Luke’s birthday was a month ago…” she whispered.
“So what? Better late than never! Thank you again, truly!”
The call ended.
Claire remained motionless, staring at nothing. It felt as though something inside her had split apart with a deafening crack, scattering sharp pieces through her chest.
That evening, she waited for Ethan to come home.
“You gave the motorcycle to Luke,” she said as soon as he walked in.
“Yes,” he replied, perfectly calm.
“So we couldn’t afford our own daughter’s education, but you somehow found the money to give an expensive motorcycle to your nephew?”
“Emily is a girl!” Ethan snapped, irritation flashing across his face. “She can get an education somewhere else. It won’t kill her. Luke is the one who carries on the family line. I promised Daniel I would look after him.”
Emily was standing in the doorway. She had heard every word.
“So I’m just a girl to you?” she asked softly.
Ethan waved a dismissive hand.
“Don’t twist what I said.”
Emily did not answer. She turned and went back to her room.
Something inside Claire grew strangely quiet. It wasn’t relief. It was a heavy, glacial anger that slowly pushed every other feeling aside.
A few days later, she no longer had any doubts.
A message appeared on Ethan’s phone screen:
“I’m waiting for you. When you’re not here, this place feels completely empty. Sometimes you remind me of him so much…”
Claire needed no further explanation.