The motorcycle engine growled to a halt in front of Kamsi's building. She swung her leg off the seat, her hands gripping the helmet tightly as if to steady herself against the swirl of emotions Xavier's presence always seemed to stir. She hesitated, glancing at him, but he was already off the bike, his movements fluid and controlled, his confidence filling the space between them like an unspoken challenge.
"Thanks for the ride," she murmured, her voice barely rising above the hum of the engine.
Xavier's lips quirked into a half-smile, his gaze sharp yet unreadable as he reached out for the helmet. "Don't mention it, Pug."
Kamsi stiffened at the nickname, her jaw clenching as she passed him the helmet. She started walking toward the building, her steps deliberate, but she could feel his eyes on her, tracing the line of her back. It wasn't heavy, but it lingered, a presence that made her skin prickle. She resisted the impulse to glance over her shoulder, biting her lip as a wave of conflicting feelings washed over her.
From the stairwell, Ruby's voice pierced the night, cold and biting. "Xavier?"
Xavier turned, his smile dropping the moment his sister appeared. Ruby's arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her expression twisted in disbelief as she took in the sight of Kamsi disappearing inside.
"What are you doing with her ?" Ruby's voice was laced with something Kamsi couldn't quite place—protectiveness, perhaps? Or something deeper, more personal?
Xavier shrugged, his hand brushing against the bike as if dismissing the question. "Dropping her off. She needed a ride."
Ruby's eyebrows shot up, disbelief and something darker flickering across her face. "Since when do you play chauffeur? You're not exactly Mr. Friendly, especially not to—" She gestured toward the building, her lip curling in distaste. "Someone like her."
Xavier's gaze hardened, but his posture remained relaxed as he leaned back against the bike, the barest glint of amusement in his eyes. "Maybe you just don't know her like I do."
Ruby's face twisted further as her hands landed on her hips. "Wait—don't tell me you like her?" Her voice was rising now, incredulous and edged with frustration.
Xavier hesitated, his smirk turning sharper, more provocative. "And what if I do?"
Ruby's eyes flared, her frustration bubbling into something fiercer. "You can't be serious, Xavier. She's—she's not your type. She's—" Her eyes narrowed as she took in Kamsi's clothes—modest, simple, entirely unimpressive in Ruby's eyes. "And have you seen her clothes? Zero fashion sense."
Xavier chuckled darkly, the sound low and unapologetic. "Clothes can change, Ruby. You'd know that if you bothered to get to know her."
Ruby's hands dropped to her sides as she stared at him, her disbelief thickening. "You can't like her. You hear me?" The words spilled out, tinged with desperation, as if she were trying to convince herself more than him. "She's not good enough for you."
He straightened, brushing past her with a lazy shake of his head, his smirk never wavering, but there was something guarded in his eyes. "You worry too much."
Ruby spun on her heel to follow him, her voice cracking with frustration. "I'm serious, Xavier! You can't!"
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But Xavier didn't stop. His boots echoed softly against the pavement as he walked away, his voice low in the distance. The faint rumble of his laughter was the last thing Ruby heard before the sound was swallowed by the night. He was gone, leaving her standing in the street, her chest heaving with unresolved anger, while the streetlights above cast long, lonely shadows.
Xavier's hand gripped the door handle, the familiar weight of it grounding him. He didn't need to step inside to feel the air change—the tension in the room was palpable, thick with unspoken words, and a history that had never healed.
He pushed open the door.
And there he was. Alastair.
Sitting comfortably on the couch, like it was his home. Like he had every right to be here. The man who had never been there for him, not when it mattered. Xavier's eyes narrowed, his pulse quickening as he took in the sight. There was no mistaking it—the cold, calculating mask on Alastair's face. The man who had abandoned him and his mother years ago was sitting like a king, daring to act as though he had some claim over them.
Sitting opposite Alastair was Laura, his mother. She barely looked up, her eyes empty—tired, as if the weight of her past was too much to bear, too heavy to let go of. Xavier hated that. He hated seeing his mother like this, as if her whole life had been shaped by the absence of men who should have loved her.
Xavier could feel the bitterness rising in his throat, a thick, bitter taste that clung to his insides. Alastair had never wanted him. Not when Laura had first told him about the pregnancy. Not when she had given him the choice to stand by her. No, Alastair had been quick to dismiss them both, to push them away, to say that his precious *image* meant more than the child they created.
"You're here," Xavier said flatly, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. He couldn't keep the disgust out of his tone. "I thought maybe you'd have the decency to stay away. But I guess that's asking too much."
Alastair's lips thinned into a tight smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. His gaze flicked over to Laura briefly, a hint of something passing through him—something like shame, but it was gone too quickly for Xavier to grasp it. He didn't care. It was too late for any semblance of regret now.
"I came because we need to talk," Alastair said, his voice smooth, calculated, the same voice that had once told Laura to get rid of the child because it would ruin his reputation. "I think it's time we put the past behind us."
Xavier could feel his chest tightening. He clenched his fists at his sides, eyes blazing as the memory of those words echoed in his mind—the words that had torn everything apart, that had left him to grow up without a father. About the child.Those words had haunted him for years, the selfishness in them eating away at him.
"Put the past behind us?" Xavier repeated, voice low and laced with venom. "You mean you want to pretend like you didn't abandon me, like you didn't tell my mother to kill me because I didn't fit into your precious little life? Is that what you mean, Alastair?"
Alastair's face twitched for a moment, a flicker of discomfort crossing his features before he regained control, that cold mask slipping back into place. "I didn't come here to dredge up old wounds, Xavier. I came here to fix things."
Xavier laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and unforgiving. "Fix things?" He took a step forward, his anger rising. "You think you can fix things by just showing up like some damn hero? No. You don't get to fix anything. You never even tried."
His eyes flicked over to Laura, her hands folded in her lap, her gaze still not meeting his. He could see the years of pain in her, the weariness in her face. She deserved better, he thought. Ruby's father had stepped in when Alastair had walked out. He had taken on the role of a father when Alastair had abandoned them both. But Ruby's dad was gone now, leaving his mother to carry the weight alone.
"You never cared," Xavier continued, his voice tight with emotion. "You left us. And now you show up after all this time, pretending like you can fix everything. Like you can just walk back into my life and make things right—for yourself."
Alastair shifted in his seat, a slight defensiveness creeping into his posture, but he held his ground. "I never intended to abandon you. The circumstances—"
"The circumstances?" Xavier spat, his hands balling into fists. "You mean your perfect life? You mean the one where you had to protect your image at all costs? You didn't care about me, Alastair. You didn't care about us. You just wanted to make sure no one found out you had a son who didn't fit into your clean, shiny world."
Alastair's eyes darkened, but he kept his voice calm, though the anger was starting to slip through. "You don't know what it was like—"
"I know exactly what it was like," Xavier interrupted, stepping closer, his voice rising. "I had to watch someone else take care of my mother, someone else take care of *me* because you couldn't be bothered. And you know what? That's why I don't want you in my life now. I don't need you now. You're just a reminder of everything that's wrong with you."
Laura's head lifted then, her eyes full of unshed tears, her voice quiet but carrying the weight of a lifetime. "Xavier, please... don't say that."
But Xavier's gaze never wavered from Alastair. "You don't get to decide what's best for me anymore. You lost that right the moment you chose your image over your own son."
The silence that followed was heavy, thick with the weight of everything unsaid, of years of hurt that neither father nor son could erase. Alastair's face had hardened, but Xavier saw the faintest flicker of something—a regret he wasn't willing to admit.
"I'm not here for you," Xavier said, his voice flat, final. "I'm here for me. And you don't get to come in and fix things just because you're scared of being exposed as a bad father. You can't rewrite what you've done."
With that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving behind the man who could never be the father Xavier needed—and the woman who had waited, hoped, and never given up on a love that had never been returned.
The door slammed behind him, and the silence that followed was deafening.