VIN'S POV
"Lio," my brother warns sternly.
I was trying to decode the meaning behind Lio's words, but I could not quite grasp what he was implying.
Something was not right.
I made up my mind to speak to my brother alone at the first opportunity. There was something beneath the surface-something unsaid.
Did Bro lie to me about his health?
The thought struck me sharply. But I had seen him discreetly press his hand against his lower back more than once. The tension in his shoulders was not staged. The pain was real.
"What? I know how much you miss him. If you want him to visit more often, that is not too much to ask."
Lio's voice was calm, direct-too perceptive for someone his age.
My eyes shifted to my brother.
He was smiling.
A small, restrained smile.
The kind that carries history. The kind that forgives before being asked to.
And somehow, that made the guilt worse.
He knows why I stay away.
And I know he understands.
Yet the silence between us grows heavier with each visit.
The moment I stepped inside, a familiar scent wrapped around me-polished marble, aged wood, faint incense.
Royal.
Cold.
Unforgiving.
It seeped into my lungs and settled in my chest like a memory I had tried to bury.
Why does this place still suffocate me?
Why does my heart feel heavier here than anywhere else in the world?
My body reacts before my mind does.
Nate stirred inside me-uneasy, restless.
I ignored it.
We walked into the grand living hall.
Crystal chandeliers cascaded from the high domed ceiling. Sunlight streamed through towering arched windows draped in ivory silk. Gold-trimmed furniture sat in perfect symmetry over Persian rugs that had outlived generations.
This palace was breathtaking.
And yet-
I have never felt at home here.
Grandfather sat near the fireplace, scrolling through his phone with the seriousness of a statesman. He had recently discovered social media and now treated it like an intelligence network.
Father was seated with his newspaper, posture rigid as ever.
Nanny stood nearby-no longer merely a caretaker, but family in every sense. She had held me before I could even hold my own head.
And then-
Mom.
And Aunty.
Laughing together.
That sound did something to me.
Aunty-my brother's mother. My stepmother. But never once had she treated me as anything less than her own son. If anything, she compensated for what others failed to give.
I stepped forward.
"Greetings, everyone."
I bowed first to Grandfather, who pulled me into a crushing embrace.
"You've forgotten this old man," he complained.
If only forgetting were that simple.
I turned to Father next.
Our hug was brief.
Polite.
Controlled.
My response to his questions was equally restrained.
Some wounds do not bleed anymore.
They calcify.
He is the architect of mine.
And he knows it.
I then walked toward Aunty. Before I could bow, she pulled me into a warm, motherly hug. I smiled, feeling her affection.
"This is the only son who calls and visits me whenever he has time-not like others," she teased, looking at my brother.
I secretly felt pleased.
"Oh, Aunty, I would do anything for you," I exaggerated.
Brother rolled his eyes, knowing me well.
"Mom, you know how busy I am. But next time, I will make sure you have no reason to complain," my brother said.
"Mom, don't raise your hopes," my sister-in-law added, rolling her eyes at him.
"I'm not," Aunty replied matter-of-factly.
Brother slipped his hands into his pockets and remained silent with a stoic expression.
His gaze followed Sister-in-law, and I could tell he didn't like her not taking his side.
When I turned toward Mom, everything inside me softened.
She cupped my face the way she used to when I was a child-like I was still small enough to shield from the world.
When I turned toward Mom, everything inside me softened.
She cupped my face the way she used to when I was a child-like I was still small enough to shield from the world.
"How are you?" she whispered.
For a moment, I let myself lean into that illusion.
"I'm fine."
"You didn't call me," I said lightly, but there was truth beneath it.
The woman who once called me twice a day had gone silent.
"I was... busy," she said, shrugging.
"Really?" I raised an eyebrow.
Her composure cracked.
"Fine. I missed you," she huffed.
There it was.
The admission I needed more than I realized.
"I missed you too," I murmured, pulling her into a hug. "Don't punish me like that again."
I felt someone watching.
A gaze sharp enough to pierce through composure.
But for once, I didn't look.
This moment was mine.
"It's so good to see you, Brother," my sister-in-law said.
I turned and bowed slightly to greet her.
"You are making me feel old. Please do not do that," she laughed, holding my shoulder.
"Sis, I doubt you'll ever age. You don't look a day over twenty. Not like some people who already look fifty," I teased, glancing at my brother and winking.
Sister-in-law and I burst out laughing.
"I'll talk to both of you later. My way," Brother stressed the words my way, warning us.
Sister-in-law blushed hard, and I quickly looked away.
I understood his warning-to both of us.
The day went well, and eventually, I retired to my chamber.
Later that night, I stood in the room that had always been mine.
High ceilings.
Velvet drapes.
Mahogany furniture carved with ancestral crests.
Everything about it screamed legacy.
Power.
Belonging.
But how can I belong to a place where my mother never did?
That contradiction has defined my entire existence.
Next Day
When I woke, it was nearly ten.
Too late for breakfast.
Too late for family conversations.
Too late for pretending I fit effortlessly into this world.
Did I want to join them?
No.
Yes.
I don't know.
Being here is like pressing on a bruise just to check if it still hurts.
It does.
Always.
A tray waited by my bedside-fresh fruit, coffee prepared exactly the way I prefer.
Sister-in-law.
She notices everything.
I walked to the balcony after dressing, pulling the curtains aside.
Sunlight flooded the chamber.
But it could not reach the darker corners inside me.
The gardens below shimmered under morning light. The fountains sparkled like liquid diamonds.
Suddenly, A giggling broke my peaceful moment.
As if my eyes already knew where the sound was coming from, they moved toward the garden.
I saw a few carefree souls laughing and playing, lost in their own world, free from worries.
Their laughter drifted upward.
Carefree.
Unburdened.
Untouched by politics, expectations, betrayal.
For a moment-
I envied them.
Their innocence.
Their freedom from history.
I closed my eyes.
For the first time in months, there were no urgent calls. No board meetings. No strategies to calculate.
Just wind against my skin.
And silence.
But even in silence-
The past never truly leaves.
For a brief second, I felt jealous of their innocence.
But I quickly pushed the thought away and simply watched them.
**
