2025-06-16 17:56:23Caleb jogged up the three flights of stairs to the apartment he paid for but rarely slept in, a small smile playing on his lips. The scent of cheap air freshener and old takeout clung to the hallway, but it was a scent he associated with Cathy, and for him, that made it home.
He pushed the door open. “Cath? I’m back.”
Cathy was perched on the edge of the sofa, her phone glowing against her face. She looked up, her perfectly glossed lips tightening for a fraction of a second before melting into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. “Hey, you.”
“Long day,” Caleb said, dropping his delivery bag by the door. He moved towards her, wanting to sink into the couch and feel the day’s exhaustion seep away next to her. “Smells like you ordered Chinese chicken. You save any for me?”
“Oh, sorry, babe. It’s all gone.” She tucked a strand of her sleek, dark hair behind her ear, her gaze flickering back to her phone.
“No worries.” He sat beside her, the springs groaning in protest. “So, you’re all set for Jessica’s party tonight?”
Her fingers stilled on the screen. “Yeah, almost. Just figuring out what to wear.” She finally put the phone down, turning to face him. “It’s just going to be us girls, you know. A proper catch-up.”
“I know, I know. ‘Friends alone’ party,” he said, mimicking her earlier tone with a soft grin. “I just wish I could see you all dressed up.” He walked over to the small, wobbly table where he kept his savings tin. He pried the lid off and tipped the contents into his hand—a roll of bills he had been painstakingly saving for weeks, skipping lunches and taking every extra delivery he could get. He walked back to her and pressed the money into her hand. All of it. Five hundred dollars.
Cathy’s eyes widened as she looked at the cash. “Baby, why are you giving me this? Will you have anything left on you?” She looked at him, her brow furrowed in a convincing display of concern. “What about dinner?” she asked.
“Don’t worry. You first,” he said softly, his thumb brushing the back of her hand. “Use this to get yourself something good to wear and get Jessica a nice gift.”
He leaned in to kiss her goodbye, but she turned her head slightly, offering her cheek. He took it without complaint and headed for the door, grabbing his helmet. “I’ve got a late chicken delivery. I’ll see you in a few days.”
The moment the door clicked shut and the sound of his delivery bike faded down the street, Cathy’s face soured. She glanced down at the money in her hand, her lip curling in disgust.
“Mtcheew” she hissed to the empty room, her voice dripping with scorn. “What will five hundred dollars do? it won't even get me a dress not to talk of gift, useless Asshole.” She tossed the money into her designer handbag
and wheeled her suitcase out the door
---
That night, the exclusive Veredale Skye Club pulsed with neon light and deep bass, a private party for the city’s young elite. But the energy faltered when a section of lights sputtered and died, casting the VIP lounge in an inconvenient darkness.
Tony Callahan, handsome and impeccably dressed, ran an agitated hand through his hair. “What the fuck is this On my wedding night?..
Kael.....call the electrician as soon as possible”
Kael “he said it's too late, he won't be able to come” angry tony got up and wanted to hit Kael but Daniel interrupted
“Bro, chill, don’t worry,” Daniel said, phone already in hand. “I have someone I can call to come fix it. He does different jobs, but when I call him, he’ll come as soon as possible.”
Tony scoffed. “Is he that desperate? It’s late. Nobody will come fix this now, take my electrician for example.”
Daniel just smiled. “I got you.” He dialed a number. “Caleb? Hey man, it’s Daniel… Yeah, listen, I’ve got an urgent job. Electrical issue at a club downtown, quite the distance from where you are but They’ll pay well. Really well can you come as soon as possible?.”
On the other side of the city, Caleb, finishing his last delivery, didn’t hesitate. The venue was far, but the promise of good pay was a siren call. He needed to build his savings back up, for Cathy.
He arrived on his bike less than an hour later, weaving through the fleet of luxury cars parked outside. Daniel, looking sharp in a tailored suit, met him at the service entrance.
“I knew I could rely on you, man. Come on,” he said, leading Caleb through a corridor that vibrated with the party’s energy. He pointed to a panel behind a large decorative board. “It’s that one.”
As Caleb got to work, his tools laid out on the floor, the party’s MC took the main stage, his voice booming over the speakers.
“Alright, Veredale! Let’s give a massive round of applause for the new couple, Mr. and Mrs. Tony Callahan!”
The crowd erupted. Caleb smiled to himself, continuing his work. In the background, a woman’s voice shrieked with excitement.
“Go Cathy! You made a beautiful bride today!”
Caleb chuckled under his breath, splicing two wires together. *I guess déjà vu is real,* he thought. *Just when I was thinking about her, someone calls her name.* He plugged the last wire in, and the lounge flickered back to brilliant life. He packed up and went to find Daniel.
“I’ve finished the job,” he said, standing awkwardly in his black boots and worn workshop clothes amidst the sea of designer outfits.
“I knew you would do a great job!” Daniel clapped him on the shoulder. “Hold on for the event before you go.”
“No, I need to hurry back for another job,” Caleb lied, suddenly eager to get home to the quiet apartment.
“Okay, wait here for just a while.” Daniel turned to get the payment, and Caleb, out of habit, turned to join the crowd in applauding the couple who were now descending the stage.
And then he saw her. His girlfriend. Cathy. She was standing in the center of the club hall , a vision in a white, floor-length gown that shimmered under the chandeliers. Her hair was swept into an elegant updo, and a diamond necklace glittered at her throat. A handsome, suave-looking man stood beside her, his arm wrapped possessively around her waist.
They were laughing, raising their glasses in a toast with their guests.
“Cathy?” he mouthed, the name a silent shock on his lips.
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96
The study was dimly lit, filled with the scent of old paper and something faintly smoky—perhaps from the fireplace that hadn’t been used in weeks. Mr. Callahan’s fingers hovered over a stack of albums tucked into the bottom shelf. He slowly pulled one out, a leather-bound photo album already frayed at the edges from too much handling over the years.Arthur stood at the doorway, unsure whether to step back or remain still. He had come to return a book to Mr. Callahan, but the conversation had taken a strange turn.Mr. Callahan opened a page, eyes softening at a photograph. His voice, when it came, was quiet, almost to himself.“What? That was where my son died.”Arthur shifted. “Sir?”Mr. Callahan turned the photo album around and pointed to a burned structure in a picture. It was taken long ago, probably by the press or police. “That was the place,” he said, then reached into a drawer and brought out a framed photograph.He handed it to Arthur.Arthur took it carefully, glancing down
95
The room was quiet. The breeze from the open window lifted the curtains gently, casting strips of sunlight across Arthur’s face as he stood in quiet contemplation. A towel rested on his shoulder he had just finished cleaning and his eyes were fixed on the floor, yet his thoughts were elsewhere, deeper than the surface he stood on.“I think I need to go back home for some time,” he murmured to himself, voice low and heavy. “I need to explain better to them that I didn't run away from home. I just needed to find my way around... and try to go back to living my life, not depending on my family.”It wasn’t guilt that weighed him down. It was something heavier—an unshakable sense of unfinished business. And perhaps, somewhere deep inside, it was the echo of a life he hadn’t fully remembered.Wiping his hands one last time, he folded the towel and draped it over his shoulder before walking out. His steps were slow, deliberate, as he made his way to Mr. Callahan’s office. He reached the door
94
The Callahan mansion had never truly known silence not even in grief. There was always movement, whispers, or the quiet hum of Jasper’s laughter. But that morning, as the sun crept past the marble pillars and into the drawing room, everything felt… paused.Diana wasn’t downstairs yet. Richard and Mr. Callahan sat by the large window, reading reports in silence. K.J. was away on business. Daphne had just stepped out for a call. The only sound was the distant ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece.Then, a knock.Three slow, firm knocks.The butler opened the door and paused. His eyebrows arched as he stepped aside for the guest to enter.A man with strands of greying hair stepped in broad-shouldered, tall, his presence oddly commanding despite the humble coat he wore. His eyes scanned the room, but there was no hesitation in his steps as he walked directly toward Mr. Callahan.Richard stood up first. “Can we help you?”Mr. Callahan squinted at the man, the wrinkles on his face tighten
93
The sun was barely up when Arthur packed a bag and left the compound.He didn’t say a word to Diego. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Not yet.There was no plan, just a pull in his chest that refused to loosen. The boy from yesterday, the strange stares, the woman’s laugh—it had cracked something open. He couldn’t pretend anymore. Something was missing. And if no one was going to give him answers, then he would find them himself.He’d seen the notice on a worn-out bulletin board two towns over. Now Hiring: Callahan Mansion. In need of full-time domestic help. ID Required. It was simple enough. A name, a few lies, and he could walk right into the home that tugged at something deep inside him. He didn’t know why, but it felt like the answers were there. Something was waiting for him inside that house.Maybe someone.Maybe himself.****Later That Day Callahan MansionThe Callahan estate was alive with quiet movement. Diana had resumed working part-time at the hospital, and Jasper had grown into a st
92
Morning came too quickly.Arthur sat at the edge of his bed, staring out the window at the dew-covered fields. Birds chirped in the distance, the sun barely above the horizon. It should’ve been peaceful—but inside him, everything felt restless.He couldn’t stop thinking about yesterday. About that woman’s laugh. The man’s eyes. The kid’s smile. All of it kept looping in his head like a song he couldn’t get rid of. He barely slept.There was no reason for it to bother him so much. No logical explanation for why complete strangers had made his chest tighten like that. He told himself it was just déjà vu, like Diego said. Just some scrambled memory flashing through his broken mind.But that didn’t make it go away.Downstairs, Diego was already in the kitchen, slicing fruit and making tea like he did every morning. When Arthur walked in, his uncle looked up with a small smile.“Didn’t hear you come down,” Diego said.“Didn’t sleep much,” Arthur replied, pulling out a chair and sitting at
91
The sun was nearly gone, casting long shadows over the quiet compound. Arthur walked slowly toward the main house, his shoulders heavy, his face tense like something was stuck in his chest that he couldn’t quite shake off. He found his uncle in the study, a book open in his lap. Diego noticed the look on his nephew’s face immediately."You look like your thoughts are chewing you up," Diego said, closing the book. "Rough day?"Arthur let out a long sigh, brushing his hand over his forehead like he was trying to wipe the feeling off his skin. "The day itself was fine. I fixed the fence. The woman was happy with the work." He paused and looked at his bruised hands. "But something happened when I was leaving. I saw a woman, a man, and a little boy. Just standing there across the road."Diego raised an eyebrow. "And?""I don’t know what it was," Arthur said, frustration creeping into his voice. "I just… the woman’s laugh it felt like I’d heard it before. The man looked at me like he knew m
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