Antonio was laughing too loudly at a joke no one found funny, his voice slurring at the edges. The people around him tolerated him out of habit, not respect. “Another one,” he muttered to the waiter, shoving the empty glass forward.The waiter hesitated, glancing briefly at the host for approval before pouring him another drink. Antonio raised the glass to his lips with a shaky hand, his fingers trembling slightly. From across the room, through the haze of smoke and alcohol, he saw her.At first, it didn’t register. The outline familiar yet impossible. The sleek black dress, the way she carried herself, the cold calm of her eyes. He blinked hard, rubbed his face, and blinked again.No. It couldn’t be.“Jesus Christ…” he whispered under his breath. “No… no, no, no.”He stood up so suddenly that the chair scraped loudly against the marble floor. Heads turned. Antonio didn’t notice. His gaze was fixed on the woman approaching him. He stumbled backward, nearly tripping over his own feet.

Xavier had booked out a small private section of the beach for just them, Amber, Emerald and even Martha. There were a handful of servers, and the soothing rhythm of water folding against the sand.Amber sat cross-legged on a lounge chair, sipping coconut water through a straw while keeping one eye on Emerald, who was laughing as she ran barefoot across the sand, chasing the foam that washed in and out.Martha sat beside her, her wrinkled face softening as she watched the little girl. “You know,” she said with a wistful smile, “I had forgotten how beautiful the world looks when you’re not staring at the same four walls.”Xavier chuckled, flipping a shrimp on the small grill. “You make it sound like I was keeping you prisoner, Martha.”Martha laughed. “Wasn’t that what you were doing? Locking me up in that fancy apartment like some hidden treasure?”Amber smirked. “More like a secret weapon. You know how he gets paranoid about everyone’s safety.”Xavier raised an eyebrow. “And I suppos

Xavier paced the narrow space in front of the emergency ward, his fists clenching and unclenching as if he could squeeze answers out of the silence. “Please, nurse,” he said for what must have been the fifth time in ten minutes, his voice edged with desperation. “Can’t you tell me what’s going on in there? How’s she doing?”The nurse at the counter, a petite woman with tired eyes and a professional calm, looked up from the clipboard she was filling. “Sir, I understand you’re worried, but the doctors are still attending to her. Please have a seat.”“I can’t sit down!” he snapped, then immediately ran a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I just... please, I need to know if she’s okay."“She’s in good hands,” the nurse said softly, her tone a gentle attempt at reassurance that did little to soothe him. “The doctor will brief you once they stabilize her.”Xavier turned away and continued pacing, his mind spinning. His mother was behind that door, fighting for her life. The same woman he had

The sky that morning was heavy, its gray clouds low enough to brush against the treetops. The air smelled faintly of wet earth and lilies. Martha’s coffin, a simple mahogany box, sat under a small white canopy in the middle of the private cemetery. The silence around it was profound, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the faint murmur of the officiating minister reading from a small, leather-bound Bible.Only five people stood around the grave. Xavier, Amber, Emerald, Clifford, and Jeffery. The small crowd made the space feel even emptier. Emerald clutched a single white rose in her tiny hand, her eyes red-rimmed but dry. Lisa had wanted her to stay home, but the child had insisted on saying goodbye.Xavier stood motionless, his hands in his pockets, staring at the coffin as though willing his mother to rise one last time. The minister’s voice droned on, solemn and steady. Amber stood beside him, her hand occasionally brushing against his arm, reminding him he wasn’t alone t

Lisa’s doorbell rang once—firm, deliberate. The kind of ring that didn’t belong to a visitor but a man on a mission. She wiped her hands on a dish towel, her brows furrowed. The sound alone told her who it was.When she opened the door, her suspicion was confirmed. Xavier stood there, tall, composed, but with an unreadable heaviness in his expression. He was dressed in a black turtleneck and blazer, the kind of outfit that looked too somber for a casual visit.“Xavier,” she said quietly, her throat tightening a little. “I wasn’t expecting you.”“I didn’t come to be expected,” he replied, stepping forward slightly but stopping at the doorway as if waiting for permission.Lisa hesitated, then moved aside. “Come in.”He walked in, scanning the apartment absently. The place still smelled faintly of coffee and lavender oil — Lisa’s way of masking the tension that always hung in her home.“Would you like something to drink?” she asked softly.He shook his head. “No. I won’t be staying long.