Chapter 6: Cracks in the Foundation (The Descent)

The Chen house smelled like garlic and vinegar.

Sara stood in the kitchen doorway at 6:30 PM Wednesday evening. Mr. Chen was at the stove, stirring something in a wok. His movements were stiff. Awkward. He’d heard her come in but hadn’t turned around.

Red braised pork. Paige’s favorite. The same dish he’d made after the bathroom confrontation freshman year. After the homecoming dress incident. After every time Paige came home crying.

An apology made of soy sauce and star anise and caramelized sugar.

“Where’s Paige?” Sara asked.

“Upstairs.” He still didn’t turn. “In her room.”

“How long has she been up there?”

“Since she got home. Three hours.” He adjusted the heat. The smell intensified—sweet, savory, rich. “She does homework up there now. Eats up there sometimes. Comes down when I’m not around.”

“You’re avoiding each other.”

“Yes.” He finally turned to face her. He looked exhausted. “Mrs. Chen noticed. Asked me yesterday if we had a fight.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That Paige is stressed about school. College applications.” He turned back to the stove. “She believed it.”

Sara walked further into the kitchen. Leaned against the counter. “Have you tried talking to Paige?”

“She won’t look at me.”

“So you make her favorite dish.”

He didn’t respond. Just stirred. The pork was tender, falling apart. He’d been cooking it for hours—low and slow, the way it needed to be done right.

“She’ll recognize what this means,” Sara said.

“I know.”

“Will it work?”

“I don’t know.” He tasted the sauce, added a splash of rice wine. “Probably not.”

Footsteps on the stairs. Paige appeared in the doorway a moment later. She was in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. Hair in a messy bun. Dark circles under her eyes.

She saw Sara first. Relief flashed across her face. Then she saw her father at the stove. The relief disappeared.

“Hey,” Sara said.

“Hey.” Paige stayed in the doorway. Didn’t enter the kitchen fully.

“Dinner’s ready,” Mr. Chen said. His voice was careful. Neutral.

Paige’s eyes went to the wok. Recognition flickered across her face. She knew what he’d made. What it meant.

“Okay,” she said quietly.

Mr. Chen brought the food to the table. Set down three plates. Served the pork carefully—making sure Paige got the best pieces, the ones that had absorbed the most sauce.

They all sat. Started eating. No one spoke.

Sara let thirty seconds pass. The only sound was chopsticks on plates. Wood tapping ceramic. Chewing. The smell of the pork filling the silence.

“How’s the chemistry test prep going?” Mr. Chen asked suddenly.

Paige looked up, startled. “What?”

“Chemistry. You said you had a test Friday.”

“Oh.” Paige set her fork down. “It’s ... fine. I think.”

“Organic chemistry, right? Molecular bonding?”

“Yeah.” Paige’s voice was uncertain. Like she wasn’t sure if this was a trap.

“That was always my worst subject,” he said. “I barely passed organic chem in college.”

“Really?” Paige looked at him—really looked at him—for the first time since sitting down. “You never told me that.”

“You never asked.” He took a bite of pork. “Your mother was better at it. She tutored me through most of second semester.”

“I didn’t know that either.” Paige’s voice had shifted slightly. Softer. “She never mentioned it.”

“She wouldn’t. She didn’t like admitting she was smarter than me.” A ghost of something crossed his face. Not quite a smile. “In anything.”

Paige almost smiled back. Almost. “What else did she tutor you in?”

“Physics, second year. Calculus, first year. I was genuinely terrible at university.” He shook his head. “Your mother’s father thought I was wasting his money. Called me every Sunday to check my grades.”