Nathan looked up, his innocent eyes lighting up with a smile. "I'll love anything you buy, Uncle!"
My cousin's face broke into a proud grin, as if Nathan's approval validated his entire existence. "You're so smart and sweet," he said loudly, his voice dripping with exaggerated affection. Then, as if on cue, his expression darkened. "Unlike that useless brat of mine. Dumb and clumsy as ever."
The sharp change in his tone sent a chill through the room.
Rowan flinched as his father's furious eyes landed on him. Still standing by the door, he looked down, shoulders hunched as if trying to make himself invisible.
"You! Get in here! What are you standing there for, like some stray dog?" my cousin bellowed, marching over to him.
Before I could intervene, he grabbed Rowan by the ear and yanked him forward. The boy stumbled, but his father wasn't done. "Honestly, I don't know who you take after. You're nothing but a worthless mutt, making me angry just by existing!"
And then, right in front of me, he kicked Rowan squarely in the stomach, sending him sprawling to the floor. Rowan hit his head on the edge of the coffee table with a sickening thud. A bright crimson streak immediately began trickling down his forehead.
Nathan gasped, dropping his action figure. He scooted back instinctively, his wide eyes darting between Rowan and his uncle.
But Rowan didn't cry. He never cried. He shakily pushed himself up, his movements mechanical and resigned. With trembling hands, he touched his bleeding forehead, smearing blood across his pale skin. Then he bowed slightly to his father, his voice barely audible. "Sorry, Dad. I know I was wrong."
It was a scene I had seen far too many times. Rowan's apology after a beating had become so routine that it now felt rehearsed.
Hana hurried into the room, carrying the first-aid kit. Her expression was stormy as she knelt beside Rowan, gently cleaning his wound. "How can you treat your own child like this, Cousin?" she demanded, her voice trembling with barely contained fury. "No matter how wrong he is, he's still your son. Don't you feel any pity for him?"
My cousin waved her off with a dismissive scoff. "Born to be useless," he sneered, glancing briefly at Rowan with contempt. "Look at him—pathetic, clumsy, good-for-nothing. He's not even half as good as Nathan. I'm already being merciful by not beating him to death."