Silence prevailed over the table for several moments after Lily’s words.
Mr.
Antoine was looking at Nicholas, not with visible anger, but with that cold calm that used to make his words heavier than any shouting.
He took his napkin and placed it beside his plate with a slow and organized movement, then said: “Nicholas.” Nicholas raised his gaze to him.
“Yes, Father.” Mr.
Antoine remained silent for seconds, as if choosing his words carefully, then said: “You have the ability.
That is not the problem.” He paused briefly.
“The problem is that you settle for being good.” Nicholas did not move.
His father continued: “In a field like architecture, good is not enough.
There are thousands of people who can provide a correct answer, or draw an acceptable design, or execute a project without major mistakes.” He raised his eyes directly to him.
“But only a few can see the complete picture.” His tone was quiet, free from any emotion.
He was not attacking Nicholas; rather, he was speaking as if presenting a performance report for an employee of his.
“You possess the knowledge, but you do not use it in the right way.
Your answers depend on what you know, not on your ability to analyze what you know.” Nicholas lowered his eyes slightly.
He knew that his father was not saying these things for the purpose of comforting him.
Mr.
Antoine was not the type to offer gentle words to soften the impact of criticism.
To him, criticism was a tool to improve the person.
He completed: “Look at Lily.” Lily remained still in her place.
She did not smile, and showed no triumph on her face.
She sat as if the conversation did not concern her.
Yet she was hearing every word.
Mr.
Antoine said: “She is still in her second year at university, yet when asked about a topic, she does not merely answer with the information.
She thinks of the causes, the results, and the relationships between things.” Then he looked at Nicholas.
“That is the difference.” He went silent for a moment.
“She is far ahead of you.” The sentence was very quiet.
And that made it harsher.
He did not say it in anger.
He did not say it to insult him.
He said it as if it were an obvious fact to him.
“And I do not say this because I am comparing the two of you as a father wanting to favor one of his children.” His hand paused briefly over the table.
“I say this because I see your potential, and I see that you are not utilizing it.” Nicholas remained silent.
He knew that replying would change nothing.
If he defended himself, he would look as if he were rejecting advice.
And if he stayed silent, he would look as if he were accepting everything.
So he chose silence.
As for Lily, she maintained her complete composure.
Her hands were arranged in front of her, her back straight, and her gaze lowered slightly.
There was no expression indicating pride.
But inside her, there was a feeling of relief.
She had gotten what she wanted.
Her father’s recognition.
A recognition that he sees her differently.
That he sees her as the best.
Mr.
Antoine said once more: “Nicholas, I do not want you to become a copy of anyone.
I only want you to reach the level you are capable of reaching.” Then he added coldly: “Because unused potential is worthless.” The words remained hanging in the air.
No one moved.
Madame Margaret was still eating in silence.
She moved her eating utensils quietly, looking at her plate, as if she were physically present only at this table.
She did not interfere.
She did not comment.
She did not defend Nicholas.
Her face was strangely calm, as if the harsh conversation taking place before her were happening in a place far away from her.
She was accustomed to this atmosphere.
Accustomed to Mr.
Antoine’s coldness, to his way of turning dinner into a test, and to the silence that comes after every word of his.
As for Nicholas, after a long moment, he set his utensils aside.
He said in a quiet voice: “I have finished eating.” He looked at no one.
He added: “I will go to my room.” Mr.
Antoine did not reply directly.
He only looked at him for a moment.
Then he said: “Alright.” A single word.
Cold.
Carrying neither anger nor interest.
Nicholas rose from his place, and pushed the chair quietly so it would not make a loud sound.
“Good night.” He said it to everyone.
No one answered immediately.
Then Margaret said in a faint voice: “Good night.” As for Lily, she said nothing.
She stayed silent, following his exit from the room with her eyes for a moment, then returned to her ideal position.
Nicholas went out and closed the door behind him.
Silence returned.
Mr.
Antoine completed his dinner as if nothing had happened.
No trace of emotion on his face.
No feeling of guilt.
No hesitation.
To him, he had said what needed to be said.
As for Lily, she sat before him in her complete calm, and now the table became quieter than before.
Three people eating.
A cold father who believes he is making the best.
A daughter trying to always be the best.
And a silent mother who seems to have withdrawn long ago from these conversations.
And in the middle of this silence, it was clear that Mr.
Antoine did not see his children merely as they were…
But as he wanted them to be.