"It was fine," he replied in a calm tone, before turning toward the staircase.
"You have ten minutes to freshen up and be back down here," his father said, his voice firm but not unkind.
"Or would you prefer to have your meal served in your room?"
Nonso froze for a second.
Anyone else in his position might have jumped at the offer. Breakfast in bed? No questions asked? Sounded great.
But he knew better.
If he chose that option, his father would be the one to personally bring up the tray.
Not as punishment, but worse, as a gesture of involvement. Awkward, stiff, painfully formal.
Nonso could already picture the uncomfortable silence, the forced eye contact.
It wasn't that they didn't care.
They just didn't know how to express it.
He wasn't always like this.
Once, there was a version of him that smiled easily and laughed freely.
But that boy was buried under layers of distance and retreat.
"I'll be down in ten minutes," he said softly.
Luckily, they heard him.
