The Kent farmhouse was quiet, but the air at dinner felt heavy.
"Miss Dejardin called. None of the students were seriously harmed, but a few choked on water and will need to stay in the hospital for observation," Jonathan said as he slowly stirred his mashed potatoes. His eyes shifted toward his sons, Clark and Adrian.
"This might be a blessing in disguise," Martha added gently. She poured Clark a glass of milk and touched his hand with warmth. "You shouldn't blame yourselves for this."
But Jonathan's serious gaze never wavered.
"Clark," he asked, voice firm, "did you pull the school bus out of the river?"
"Yes," Clark admitted. "I tried, but I couldn't do it alone. I asked Adrian to help."
At that, Jonathan turned his attention to his younger son. Adrian had been quietly eating his beef stew, seemingly uninterested in the conversation. Compared to pizza or macaroni and cheese, the hearty stew suited his tastes far better.
"Sorry, Dad," Adrian said at last, setting down his knife and fork with deliberate calm. "I didn't want to get involved. Clark persuaded me in his own way."
Jonathan's brow furrowed.
The truth was simple—Adrian had no intention of helping. To him, other people's lives and deaths meant little. He hadn't chosen to be a hero, and he didn't aspire to play one. If anything, he found it easier to stand on the sidelines, detached and cold.
And yet, despite himself, he stayed. The Kents had given him something he'd never had before—family. That bond was the only reason Clark's pleading had swayed him.
Jonathan exhaled heavily, pressing his fingers to his temple. His two sons could not have been more different.
Clark was kind, eager to use his abilities to help others, desperate to prove his worth in a world where he felt invisible. He longed for recognition, to show the world what he could do.
Adrian, on the other hand, was quiet, calculating, and frighteningly detached. He understood the world too well, saw through people too easily. Compassion rarely touched him, and empathy was something he could turn on and off like a switch.
Jonathan's heart ached at the contrast. If only their personalities could balance each other out, maybe things would be easier.
He shook the thought away.
"Clark," he said gravely, "accidents happen. But you need to remember what we've talked about. Sometimes, you have to know when to hide yourself."
Clark stiffened. Rebellion sparked in his voice. "Like Adrian? Indifferent? Dad, I was saving people."
Jonathan's jaw tightened. Clark hadn't mentioned that Adrian was the one who caused the bus to lose control in the first place.
"Of course, son, we know you were saving people. But remember what we agreed—your secret has to stay hidden."
"Then what do you expect me to do?" Clark's voice rose. "Just stand by and watch them drown?"
Jonathan's voice hardened. "Clark, there are things in this world bigger than us. If people discover what you and Adrian can do, everything changes. The world would turn upside down. Beliefs, perceptions, everything would be shaken."
Clark's fists clenched. "So God made me like this, and I'm supposed to just sit on the sidelines?"
His father's words rang hollow in his ears. He looked at Adrian, who remained silent, almost amused, then shoved his chair back.
"I'm tired of it. You tell me to hide every day, to never show who I am… but I can't live like that."
His anger surged. He picked up a fork, squeezing just enough to snap it in two. He slammed the broken metal down on the table.
"Is this your idea of normal? I'd give anything to be normal, but I'm not!"
"Clark!" Martha gasped, half-rising from her seat, but Jonathan stopped her with a raised hand.
"Let him go," Jonathan murmured.
Clark stormed out, his footsteps heavy against the wooden floorboards. Martha's eyes filled with worry as she looked from her husband to the empty doorway.
Adrian's voice broke the silence. Calm, almost soothing. "Don't worry, Dad. Clark will understand you someday."
Jonathan turned to him sharply. "And what about you, Adrian? You have even more power than Clark. Are you willing to live as an ordinary man?"
Adrian's lips curved in a faint, unreadable smile. He reached across the table and took Martha's hand, his tone deceptively warm. "I'm not interested in being ordinary. But I've never forgotten who I am. I'm your son. I'm from Smallville. I'm a Kent."
Jonathan's expression darkened. He studied Adrian, searching for honesty in his words, but what he found unsettled him.
Finally, Jonathan sighed. "This day was always going to come. Maybe it's time you knew, Adrian."