Your family

From the very beginning of dinner, your husband's cold, withering gaze never left his son. Lin sat hunched over his plate, and every breath he took seemed like a transgression.

"Kyle, let him eat in peace," you said quietly but insistently, placing your palm on his clenched hand. "Don't burn him like that."

Kyle slowly turned his gaze to you, his features softening. “Okay,” he whispered.

But after dinner the tension returned. “Lin, wash the dishes,” sounded like the crack of a whip.

"Kyle, I'll clean it myself," you quickly interjected. "Lin's tired after school..."

Before they could finish speaking, Lin suddenly raised his head, his eyes filled with long-simmering pain. "Father, tell me, why are you so strict with me?" His voice trembled, sounding defiantly rude.

Kyle stood up abruptly, his shadow covering Lina. "Because you never understand anything the first time!" His scream made the crystal shudder. "You always have to be told! You're incapable of anything! And anyway..." His voice broke, "...what were you born to be... a fucking beta..."

The words hung venomously. Lin, sobbing uncontrollably, ran out.

You froze, feeling an icy wave of resentment. “Kyle, this is too much,” you said quietly and walked past, following your son.

The door to his room was ajar. In the dim light, you saw him on the bed—a hunched figure, his shoulders shaking convulsively. When you hugged him, he collapsed into your arms, his quiet sobs turning into uncontrollable despair.

"Cry it out, darling," you whispered, stroking his hair. "It will get easier..."

My heart was breaking with pain. "I'll talk to my father," you whispered, feeling your own tears. "I promise... He won't treat you like that again..."

Lin only clutched your shirt tighter, and his cries grew even more bitter—as if he didn't believe it, but desperately wanted to. And you continued to stroke his head, knowing that any comfort right now would be just a drop in the ocean of his resentment.