The morning after the weddings was quiet in a way the house hadn't been for days.
No hurried footsteps. No voices calling from room to room. No lists spread across the dining table like battle plans.
Tyler sat on the edge of his bed, tying his shoes carefully, the familiar routine grounding him. His school bag rested against the wall, already packed. Everything was exactly where it always was.
And yet, the house felt different.
He stepped into the hallway and paused.
Both doors Steven's and Richard's were closed.
Tyler stood there for a moment longer than necessary, eyes flicking between the two. For weeks now, one of them had always been the one to call out to him in the mornings, keys jangling, voice already halfway down the stairs.
Neither door opened.
The house remained still.
Behind him, footsteps approached.
"Tyler."
He turned.
Silas stood near the staircase, jacket already on, briefcase in one hand. Melissa was beside him, adjusting his collar with practiced ease.
"You ready?" Silas asked.
Tyler nodded. "Yes."
Silas followed Tyler's gaze toward the closed doors and smiled faintly.
"They'll be busy today," he said gently. "I'll drop you off."
Tyler didn't argue. He simply nodded again.
"Okay."
Melissa leaned down and straightened Tyler's bag straps. "Have a good day."
"I will."
They left the house together, stepping into the morning air. The street was calm, the aftereffects of celebration gone as if they'd never existed. As they walked, Silas adjusted his pace to match Tyler's smaller steps.
The drive to school passed quietly.
Silas spoke briefly about traffic, about the weather, about nothing important. Tyler listened, looking out the window as the city slid by, already slipping back into routine.
At the school gate, Silas parked and turned toward him.
"I'll see you later," he said.
Tyler nodded, then hesitated. "Thank you."
Silas smiled. "Anytime."
Tyler stepped out, the sound of the door closing firm and final behind him, and ran toward the school building without looking back.
Steven came to pick him up that afternoon.
Tyler spotted him near the gate immediately leaning against the fence, jacket slung over his shoulder, expression relaxed in a way it hadn't been before the wedding.
"There you are," Steven said as Tyler approached. "How was school?"
"It was normal," Tyler replied.
Steven laughed softly. "Good."
They walked home together, Steven asking about classes, about friends, about things he half-listened to but genuinely wanted to hear. Tyler answered calmly, evenly, his thoughts still lingering faintly on the tune he'd heard the night before.
When they reached the house, the front door was already open.
Voices drifted out.
"Come in," Richard called.
Tyler stepped inside and froze.
Pamela stood near the center of the living room, hands clasped in front of her. Richard was beside her, posture slightly stiff, as if bracing himself. On the table between them sat a rectangular case, dark and unfamiliar.
Steven blinked. "What's this?"
Pamela smiled at Tyler. "It's for you."
Tyler looked at the case, then at them. "For me?"
Richard cleared his throat. "Go on."
Tyler stepped closer and reached out, fingers hovering for a brief second before opening the latches. The case opened smoothly.
Inside lay a guitar.
It was real. Solid. Polished. Nothing like the cheap, worn instrument from his memory. The wood gleamed softly under the light, strings taut and untouched.
Tyler stared.
For a moment, the room disappeared.
Then he smiled.
Not a polite smile.
A real one.
His eyes lit up, bright and unguarded, like stars flickering suddenly into existence.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
Steven froze.
Richard blinked.
Pamela's breath hitched for just a moment before she smiled wider.
"You like it?" she asked.
Tyler nodded. "Yes."
Steven stepped closer, staring at Tyler as if he were seeing him for the first time. "I don't think I've ever seen him smile like that."
Richard didn't answer. He was watching Tyler too.
Viola emerged from the hallway, drawn by the voices. Melissa followed close behind. Vanessa stepped in last, her expression already composed.
"What's going on?" Viola asked.
Steven gestured toward the guitar. "Look."
Tyler held it carefully now, fingers brushing the strings experimentally, producing a soft, uneven sound. His smile didn't fade.
Melissa covered her mouth with one hand. "Oh…"
Viola frowned slightly, studying him. "We've given him so many toys," she said slowly. "So many gifts."
She watched Tyler's shining eyes, the way his entire posture leaned toward the instrument.
"I've never seen him this happy."
Melissa moved toward Pamela without hesitation. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "You didn't have to do this."
Pamela shook her head quickly. "He seemed to like it. That's all."
Viola nodded once. "You chose well."
Pamela relaxed visibly at the approval.
Vanessa stood slightly apart, arms folded loosely.
She watched Tyler. She watched Pamela.
And something inside her tightened.
Of course, her thoughts hissed silently. She gets praised for this.
Her gaze lingered on the guitar, then shifted back to Pamela's modest smile.
Acting generous. Acting thoughtful.
Her lips curved into a pleasant expression as she spoke aloud. "It's a lovely gift."
Inside, the words sharpened.
Trying to be special. Trying to stand out.
She watched Melissa thank Pamela again. Watched Viola's approval settle.
You think this makes you important, Vanessa thought coldly. We'll see.
Tyler notice, but didn't mind.
He was too busy holding the guitar, fingers brushing the strings again, listening to the sound imperfect, but real.
For the first time in a long while, something broken had been replaced.
The front door opened just after dusk.
The sound was familiar keys, the soft thud of shoes against the mat but Tyler still flinched slightly, fingers pausing mid-movement over the strings. A thin, uneven note lingered in the air before fading.
Silas stepped inside, loosening his tie as he did. He stopped almost immediately.
The sound had been wrong. Not unpleasant but uncertain. Learning.
His eyes moved across the living room and settled on Tyler.
Tyler sat cross-legged on the floor, the guitar resting awkwardly against his shoulder, fingers hovering uncertainly over the frets. His brows were knit together in concentration, lips pressed thin as he tried again, producing a slightly cleaner sound this time.
Silas didn't interrupt.
He turned instead toward the kitchen, where Melissa was arranging vegetables on a tray.
"What's that?" he asked quietly.
Melissa glanced toward the living room and smiled. "Pamela and Richard gave it to him."
Silas raised an eyebrow. "A guitar?"
She nodded, lowering her voice. "They noticed him watching the band yesterday. He hasn't put it down since he got home."
Silas looked back toward Tyler.
The boy wasn't smiling now. He was focused. Serious in a way children rarely were when playing with toys.
"How did he react?" Silas asked.
Melissa's smile softened. "He was… really happy."
Silas nodded once.
His gaze shifted toward the dining table, where Richard and Pamela were setting plates, moving around each other with quiet coordination. Richard reached for cutlery without looking; Pamela slid a plate into place smoothly, already anticipating it.
Silas met their eyes.
He smiled.
Not wide. Not exaggerated. Just enough.
Richard straightened slightly, returning the nod. Pamela's shoulders eased almost imperceptibly.
Silas turned back toward the living room and approached Tyler.
Tyler noticed him this time and stilled, hands freezing mid-air.
"Father," he said.
Silas crouched beside him, resting one hand on his knee. "That's a nice instrument."
Tyler nodded, careful. "Yes."
Silas studied the guitar briefly its clean finish, its weight. Then he looked at Tyler again.
"Do you know how to play?"
Tyler hesitated.
"No," he said honestly. "Not yet."
Silas tilted his head. "But you want to."
Tyler nodded again. "Yes. I will."
The certainty in his voice surprised even himself.
Silas considered him for a moment longer, then said, "If you want, you could take lessons."
Tyler's breath caught.
For just a fraction of a second, the room slipped.
He remembered saving coins.Remembered counting money twice.Remembered hiding the guitar in the corner of a room that never felt safe enough for dreams.
And he remembered silence.
No one had asked him that question before.
Not then.
In his past life, Silas had never offered. Not because he didn't care but because the house had already been breaking. Money had been tight. Tension sharper. There had been no space for things like music.
Tyler didn't resent him for it.
He never had.
But hearing the question now still felt like stepping into a life that could have been.
Silas misread the pause as uncertainty.
"You don't have to decide now," he said calmly. "If you want to try, you can."
Tyler swallowed. "I… want to."
Silas nodded. "Good."
He straightened slightly. "As long as you don't slack in your studies."
Tyler nodded immediately. "I won't."
Silas smiled faintly. "Then we'll look into it."
He stood, adjusting his sleeves. "I'm going to wash up."
As Silas walked toward his room, Tyler sat very still.
The guitar rested against his chest, heavier than before.
Not because of its weight.
Because of what it meant.
Dinner came together quietly.
By the time Silas returned, the table was set. Plates steamed gently. The soft clink of cutlery filled the space where earlier chaos had lived.
Everyone gathered.
Viola sat at the head of the table, posture relaxed in a way that felt earned. Melissa took her usual seat, glancing around to make sure everyone was present. Steven and Vanessa sat together, Steven already halfway into a story he'd started telling twice that day.
"…and then he says no, wait, you had to be there"
Vanessa laughed easily, leaning closer. "You're terrible at retelling things."
Richard sat opposite them, sleeves rolled up, Pamela beside him. Pamela listened more than she spoke, smiling at the right moments, hands folded neatly when she wasn't reaching for something.
Tyler sat between Melissa and Silas, the guitar case leaned carefully against the wall nearby.
"So," Steven said, pointing his fork toward Tyler. "You're a musician now?"
Tyler shook his head. "Not yet."
Steven grinned. "Yet. That's the important part."
Pamela glanced at Tyler. "He's already trying," she said. "That's enough."
Melissa nodded. "He didn't even want to put it down."
Viola huffed softly. "Children fixate on strange things."
But her gaze lingered on Tyler a moment longer than necessary.
Silas cleared his throat. "We'll see about lessons."
Steven paused. "Lessons?"
Silas nodded. "If he keeps his grades steady."
Steven blinked, then laughed. "Wow. Lucky."
Tyler stared at his plate, heart beating a little faster.
Conversation flowed around him.
Plans for the coming weeks. Work schedules. Small complaints. Small jokes. Nothing urgent. Nothing sharp.
It felt… whole.
Tyler looked up slowly, letting his gaze move from face to face.
Steven—laughing openly, unburdened.Melissa—smiling, eyes warm.Silas—quiet, steady.Viola—satisfied, composed.Richard—relaxed in a way he rarely allowed.Pamela—present, sincere.
Then Vanessa.
She smiled when Steven spoke. Nodded when addressed. Perfectly placed.
Tyler exhaled quietly.
Good things don't last long, he told himself.
Not bitterly.Not angrily.
Just as a fact.
He looked back down at his food, fingers brushing against the edge of the table, listening to the sound of laughter fill the room.
For now, this was real.
And for now
That was enough.