Eli sat quietly on the worn-out couch, his fingers nervously twisting the edge of a cushion. He could hear Mom and Dad in the kitchen, their voices rising and falling like an unpredictable tide. "I just wish they would stop," he thought, feeling the familiar ache in his chest.

Mom leaned against the counter, her arms crossed tightly. Dad stood by the fridge, his hands gesturing animatedly as he spoke. "We need to think about what's best for Eli," he insisted, his voice edged with frustration. "I am thinking about him!" Mom replied sharply. "But we can't keep pretending everything is fine." The argument continued, each word a dagger of pain for Eli.

Eli sat at his desk, his notebook open before him. The pages were filled with his neat handwriting, each line capturing the thoughts he couldn't voice aloud. "Today was tough," he wrote, the act of writing a balm for his troubled heart.

Eli picked up his pen, hesitating before writing again. "I wish they understood how much it hurts to be caught in the middle," he penned, his words flowing freely onto the page. "Maybe if I share this with them, they'll see what I can't say."

Eli placed the notebook on the table, his heart pounding. Mom and Dad exchanged glances, curiosity piqued by his unexpected offering. "I wrote something for both of you," he said softly, his voice steady despite the nerves.

Mom and Dad read Eli's words, their expressions shifting from surprise to empathy. "We had no idea you felt this way," Dad murmured, glancing at Mom. "We're so sorry, sweetheart," Mom added, pulling Eli into a gentle embrace. Eli felt the weight lift from his shoulders, the promise of better days ahead filling the room with hope.