Chapter 3

Clara’s face flushed, irritation bubbling up inside her. She stood up straighter, trying to control her temper. "Please, I’m not in the mood for that kind of talk. I’m not in a relationship," she snapped, her voice sharp. She turned to her father, her gaze softening. "And maybe I’d rather talk to you, not her."

Her father, clearly tired of the constant tension between his wife and daughter, raised a hand to halt the escalating argument. "Enough," he said firmly, his voice cutting through the air. "Let’s not turn this into another one of your arguments."

Clara, feeling the heat of the moment, quietly nodded. "I’m going to my room," she muttered, not waiting for a response. She turned on her heel and strode out of the living room, the door closing softly behind her.

Back in the living room, Clara’s father stood facing his wife, his expression serious. "Why do you always have to say things like that about her?" he asked, his voice filled with frustration. "Clara is not into relationships. She’s not seeing anyone. You know that."

Her stepmother crossed her arms, an air of disbelief in her stance. "That’s exactly what you always say. You let her fool you with that innocent little act of hers, but I’m telling you, she might be seeing someone in secret; someone we don’t know about. You’re blind if you can’t see it."

Clara’s father shook his head, clearly unimpressed by her insinuations. "I don’t want to hear it," he muttered, turning to leave the room. "I’m going to my own space." Without another word, he walked up the stairs, leaving his wife standing there, her words hanging in the air.

……

Meanwhile, Nathaniel had just arrived home, but he didn’t head straight inside. Instead, he made a quick detour to the bar around the corner. He had a couple of drinks to ease his mind before facing the chaos at home. After some time, he finally walked into the house, the door creaking as it closed behind him.

As soon as he entered, his younger sister, Annabelle, bounded down the stairs, her face lighting up when she saw him. "My big bro!" she exclaimed, running towards him and wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.

Nathaniel grinned, his hands still hidden behind his back. "What’s up, sis?" he said, his voice warm, despite the storm brewing inside him.

Annabelle pulled away slightly, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "So, what did you get for me?" she asked, a teasing tone in her voice. "I hope you didn’t come home empty-handed!"

Nathaniel’s grin widened, and with a flourish, he revealed a small bag he’d been holding behind his back. "Of course I didn’t forget about you," he said, his voice full of affection. "I’ve got something special just for you."

Just then, their parents descended the stairs, their footsteps heavy and deliberate. Nathaniel could sense the tension in the house, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. He shot a brief glance at his mother, who offered a tight smile, before turning his attention back to Annabelle. For a moment, it felt like everything else in the house had faded away, leaving only the two of them standing in the hallway, their little world untouched by the turmoil that seemed to surround them.

Annabelle, already intrigued by her brother’s mysterious gesture, eagerly grabbed the bag. "What’s inside?" she asked, her voice filled with excitement.

Nathaniel chuckled softly, his mood lightening despite everything. "Patience," he teased, "You’ll find out soon enough."

And for a brief moment, the house was filled with the sounds of laughter and warmth, a fleeting sense of peace before the inevitable storm.

Annabelle eagerly tore open the bag, her fingers shaking with anticipation. As she peeked inside, her eyes lit up. "You didn’t!" she gasped, pulling out a pair of custom-designed sneakers, shiny and vibrant. "Oh my God, Nathaniel, these are amazing!"

Nathaniel watched her face break into a wide smile, and for the first time that evening, he felt a flicker of relief. Annabelle had always been easy to please, her joy infectious. "I knew you'd love them," he said with a chuckle, his voice warm, though his mind was still tangled with the events of the day. "I remember you were talking about wanting a pair just like these, so I thought I’d surprise you."

Annabelle hugged the sneakers to her chest, practically bouncing with happiness. "You’re the best!" she squealed, her gratitude genuine. "I don’t know how you manage to find the coolest stuff."

Nathaniel’s smile faded slightly as he glanced up, catching a glimpse of his parents’ expressions. His mother, standing slightly to the side, was watching the exchange with a small, unreadable expression. His father, on the other hand, had entered the room now and was fixing his gaze on Nathaniel with a serious, almost weary look.

"How was the bar?" his father asked, his voice casual, but Nathaniel could hear the underlying concern. It wasn’t just about the drinks; it was about what Nathaniel had been avoiding by going there.

Nathaniel shrugged, doing his best to keep his tone light. "You know, the usual. Just needed to get away for a bit." He avoided meeting his father’s eyes. He didn’t want to get into it right now. Not with Annabelle in the room, not with the mood hanging so thick in the air.

His father sighed and nodded, but it was clear there was more to be said. His mother, who had been standing quietly up until now, finally spoke. "You should be careful, Nathaniel," she said, her voice soft but firm. "I understand you need space, but you can’t keep running away every time things get tough."

Nathaniel’s jaw tightened, and he turned his back on her, trying to hide the anger rising in him. "I’m not running away, Mom. I’m just... I’m just trying to breathe for a second."

Annabelle, sensing the tension between her elder brother and parents, quickly tried to change the subject. "Hey, Nathaniel, do you think we can go out tomorrow? Maybe grab some food or something? It’s been ages since we hung out just the two of us."

Nathaniel looked at his sister, grateful for the distraction. She always knew how to lift the mood, how to soften the sharp edges of their family’s dynamics. "Yeah, that sounds great," he said, forcing a smile. "We’ll make a day of it. Just the two of us, like old times."

His father, sensing that his son wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation, let the matter slide; for now. "Alright," he said, his tone still holding an edge of concern, "but remember, Nathaniel, we’re a family. Don’t shut us out."

Nathaniel’s thoughts swirled as he nodded, but it felt like there was a distance between them, an invisible wall that he couldn’t quite tear down. His father’s words echoed in his mind, but they didn’t make him feel better. Instead, they only reminded him of how trapped he felt; like there was no place where he could just be himself, no place where he could escape the weight of their expectations.

Annabelle broke his reverie with a playful shove. "Hey, big bro, don’t look so serious! Life’s too short to be all moody and broody," she teased, trying to lighten the mood further.

Nathaniel smiled, even though it felt forced. "Alright, alright. I’ll try not to be the grumpy older brother."

The tension in the room slowly began to lift, at least for the moment. Annabelle continued to talk excitedly about their plans for tomorrow, and Nathaniel, despite his swirling thoughts, listened intently, grateful for her carefree spirit. It was the one thing that felt normal in this chaotic world.

…….

Clara’s father quietly entered her room, his concerned eyes searching for any sign of distress. "Are you alright, my dear?" he asked gently, his voice soft with worry.

Clara, looking up from her thoughts, forced a small smile. "Sure, Dad. I'm fine," she replied, her voice betraying none of the turmoil swirling within her.

He studied her for a moment, his brow furrowing. "If you say so," he murmured, though the unease lingered in his voice. "But you've been acting differently lately. I just want to make sure you're truly okay."

Clara’s heart skipped. Her father had no idea she hadn’t gone to work today; how she had left the house in her usual work attire, only to head to the hospital instead. She swallowed the guilt that gnawed at her. "It's just work stress, Dad," she lied, the words slipping out with practiced ease.

Her father nodded slowly, his expression softening. "I understand, my dear. You’ll be fine," he said, his hands warm as he brushed a kiss on her forehead. With a final lingering glance, he turned to leave.

Just then, Clara’s stepmother called from downstairs, her voice crisp and cheerful. "Dinner is ready," she announced.