Rodensky knew something was wrong the moment he walked into the apartment. The living room, usually quiet or filled with the sound of his sisters watching TV, was alive with voices—one of them unfamiliar.
He kicked off his shoes and peered around the corner. His mother was sitting on the couch, smiling in a way he hadn't seen in months. Across from her was a man Rodensky didn't recognize.
"Rod, you're home!" his mother called, her voice bright.
"Yeah," he muttered, stepping into the room. His eyes flicked to the man, who stood and extended a hand.
"You must be Rodensky," the man said. He was tall, with a neatly trimmed beard and a confident smile. "I'm Mark."
Rodensky stared at the hand but didn't take it. "Okay."
There was an awkward silence before his mother cleared her throat. "Mark and I were just talking about dinner. He's joining us tonight."
Rodensky didn't respond. He turned and walked to his room, shutting the door behind him.
---
Dinner was a tense affair. Mark tried to make conversation, asking Rodensky about school and his hobbies. Emily and Clara were more than happy to answer for him, giggling and chiming in about their new lives.
Rodensky sat in silence, pushing his food around his plate.
"Rod," his mother said gently, "Mark's asking you a question."
He looked up, his expression blank. "What?"
"I was just curious," Mark said with a forced smile. "Your mom mentioned you're into gaming. What kind of games do you play?"
Rodensky's grip tightened on his fork. "Does it matter?"
His mother shot him a warning look, but he ignored it.
"Rodensky," she said, her tone sharp, "we're trying to have a nice dinner."
"Well, I'm not hungry," he said, standing abruptly and leaving the table.
---
In the weeks that followed, Mark's presence became more frequent. He came over almost every evening, bringing takeout or cooking dinner while the girls fawned over him.
Rodensky couldn't stand it. To him, Mark wasn't just a man—he was an intruder, a reminder that his father's place was being filled by someone else.
One night, as he sat in his room with his headset on, he heard a knock at the door.
"What?" he called, not bothering to take off the headset.
The door opened, and Mark stepped inside. Rodensky pulled off the headset and glared at him.
"What do you want?"
"I just wanted to talk," Mark said, leaning against the doorframe. "Look, I know this is hard for you. I'm not trying to replace your dad."
"Good," Rodensky said coldly. "Because you can't."
Mark sighed. "I get it. You're angry. You have every right to be. But I'm not going anywhere. Your mom and I—"
"You and my mom are nothing," Rodensky snapped. "You're just some guy."
Mark's expression hardened, but he kept his voice calm. "I'm here because I care about her. And whether you like it or not, I care about you and your sisters too."
"Don't," Rodensky said, his voice low. "Don't pretend like you know me. You don't."
Mark stood there for a moment before nodding. "Okay. I'll give you time. But I'm not giving up on this family."
As the door closed behind him, Rodensky's chest heaved with anger.
---
The breaking point came during a family dinner a week later. Mark had made spaghetti, and the girls were gushing about how good it was.
"This is better than Mom's!" Clara exclaimed, earning a playful gasp from their mother.
"Careful, Clara," she teased. "I might take that personally."
Mark laughed. "Well, I did learn from the best."
Rodensky slammed his fork down. "Can you stop pretending like everything's fine?"
The table went silent.
"Rod, that's enough," his mother said sternly.
"No, it's not," he said, standing up. "You're all acting like Dad never existed. Like he didn't matter."
"Rodensky!" his mother said, her voice rising.
Mark raised his hands. "It's okay, Anna. Let him—"
"Don't," Rodensky said, pointing at him. "Don't act like you're the peacemaker. You don't belong here."
Tears welled in his mother's eyes. "Rodensky, please sit down."
But he didn't. He stormed out of the room, grabbing his jacket and slamming the door behind him.
---
That night, Rodensky powered on his console and escaped into the only world where he felt in control. The game loaded, its opening sequence playing out like a familiar lullaby.
As he began exploring the virtual world, he felt the weight on his chest lighten ever so slightly. Here, he didn't have to deal with Mark or his family or the crushing reality of his new life.
Here, he could be someone else.