The living room was messy, and I couldn't help but wonder if it was because Mrs. Chloe wasn't around. I slouched on the couch, flipping through a book that barely interested me. The apartment was quiet, with only the faint hum of Keith's presence in the background.
My phone buzzed with an incoming call. The screen showed **KATE'S HUSBAND**. I preferred this label to "Orion" because it felt more accurate—he was Kate's husband to me, more than my brother. I hesitated for a moment, then picked up the call.
"Speak up, Orion," I said, my voice flat and distant.
"Hey, my dear brother! Just wanted to check in and remind you about the family gathering tonight."
I sighed deeply. "Yeah, I remember. I've been thinking about it."
"Good. I know it's been a while, but it would mean a lot to Kate if you could make it."
I shifted uncomfortably on the couch. "Right... at least for Kate. But we both know I don't really fit in there anymore," I said, staring out the window.
"I understand, but you need to come. We're still family, after all."
I glanced around the room, the emptiness of my surroundings weighing heavily on me.
"Family, huh? Well, I'll be there... at least for Kate," I muttered, a mix of resignation and reluctant acceptance in my voice.
"See you then," Orion said before hanging up. I put my phone down and stared at the vacant space in my living room. Taking a deep breath, I braced myself for the emotional journey ahead.
.
.
.
"Finally... I was starting to think you might not make it," Kate murmured warmly as she enveloped me in a heartfelt hug.
"I can't disappoint my favorite person, can I?" I replied, my gaze sweeping over the grim reminders of my past that still lingered in this dismal place.
Mr. and Mrs. Ferraro wore tight, strained smiles, but their presence barely registered with me. The dinner conversation largely revolved around Orion boasting about his booming business and recounting an incident where a jewelry shop employee had slighted Mrs. Ferraro. Kate and I remained silent, absorbed in our own thoughts.
As the meal drew to a close, Mr. Ferraro stood up, commanding attention.
"The main reason for this family gathering," he began, lifting his glass for a toast, "is to announce that I will be retiring by the end of autumn. My son, Orion, will be taking over my role as the next successor."
The announcement wasn't unexpected. In fact, I was more surprised by the timing, given Mr. Ferraro's evident admiration and affection for him.
Mrs. Ferraro and Kate beamed with bright smiles while I reclined, absently sipping my drink. Seeking a reprieve from the forced cheer, I retreated to the garden, drawing on a much-needed cigarette. Orion joined me as if summoned by my withdrawal.
"So, how does it feel to be back home after all these years?" he asked, releasing a plume of smoke into the night air.
"Call this home?" I replied, my tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Well, it may not be home for you, but I'd rather be your place any day," Orion snorted with a smirk.
"Consider yourself lucky I still let you into my place," I retorted, flicking away the last of my cigarette and stamping it out with my foot.
"Kate and I are planning a vacation to Petra. She's been drained by that whole Mr. Cruel debacle," Orion said, settling onto a nearby bench.
"Since when did you start caring about other people's feelings?" I asked, taking a seat beside him.
"Since I met her," he said softly. "You'll never understand the gravity of love until you experience it yourself."
"Yeah, right," I chuckled. "Me in love? Lucifer would join heaven before that happens."
.
.
.
As the night grew darker and the atmosphere increasingly stifling, I bade Kate a final goodbye and drove toward my latest obsession's home. I had barely escaped detection last time, so I needed to be extra cautious.
I snuck in her kitchen's window slowly making my way to her bedroom. The soft glow of moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle luminescence over the room.
I quietly pushed open the door, the faint creak of the hinges was swallowed by the stillness of the night. I moved with deliberate care, my footsteps almost silent on the polished wooden floor.
In the dim light, I could make out the familiar contours of her room—the neatly arranged books on the nightstand, the faint aroma of biscuits lingering in the air, and the cozy mess of blankets that framed her peaceful form.
She was nestled beneath the covers, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that spoke of serenity and contentment.
I paused at the edge of the bed, my breath catching slightly as I took in the sight of her. Her hair was spread out like a dark halo on the pillow, and her face, illuminated by the moon's soft touch, was relaxed. The gentle rise and fall of her breathing was hypnotic.
A sinister smile played on my lips as I reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from her face, but I resisted myself. I marveled at how peaceful she looked, completely unaware of my presence.
The worry lines that often marred her features were absent, replaced by an expression of pure, undisturbed calm.