“Maybe someday,” he said finally.“For now, it stays as my mother left it.”
I accepted that answer for what it was.A boundary.
“Sir, I—”
“Do you know why I didn’t respond to your message?”
My breath stilled.“No, sir.”
He studied me, searching for presence.“Because obedience offered out of fear isn’t obedience,” he said calmly.“It’s avoidance.”
The truth hit harder than reprimand.
“I didn’t know what else to give you.”
“That,” he replied, “is the only honest thing you’ve said tonight.”
I didn’t look away.
“Obedience only means something when it costs you something.”
Silence stretched.
“Tonight,” he said, “you don’t get only punishment.”
My chest tightened.
“You get instruction.”
“Yes, sir.”
He leaned closer.“You listen before you react,” he said.“You stay present instead of offering yourself as currency.”
“And you don’t earn trust by proving how much you can endure.”
The words settled, heavy.
“You earn it,” he finished, “by telling the truth before fear talks you out of it.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Creed pushed his plate aside, leaning back slightly.“Did you get enough to eat?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good.”His gaze locked on mine.“Go upstairs.Get on your knees.And wait.”
My body responded before thought.
I stood.“Yes, Sir.”
I left the kitchen without looking back.
I wasn’t afraid.
I understood.
Whatever came next wouldn’t be about punishment.It would be about whether I could stay present long enough to deserve what remained between us.
