LATER AT NIGHT.
Megara's boots thumped softly on the pavement as she stepped out of the car. The night air, thick with the scent of damp earth, did little to soothe the ache in her chest. Her house loomed before her, a silent witness to the afternoon's harsh words with her father. She pushed the memory aside, a familiar knot tightening in her stomach. He was who he was, stubborn and set in his ways, a trait she recognized with a wry twist of her lips – perhaps too well.
She offered Tobi a small wave as he blew her a kiss, the car's headlights sweeping across the compound before disappearing into the diffused glow of a distant streetlight.
The front door closed behind her with a soft thud. In the living room, her father sat hunched on the couch, his face buried in his hands. He looked up as she entered, his posture shifting from dejection to a hesitant relief. He reached for her, pulling her into a tight embrace.
His voice was thick, a raw edge to its usual calm. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I should never have shouted. Truly sorry." He held her close, a tremor running through him. "I only wanted to make sure you were safe, that you have everything you need. Can you forgive me?"
Megara pulled back, her grey eyes, usually shimmering with warmth, held a steady, almost cool gaze as they met his. "I forgive you, Dad. I wasn't angry, not really. But I need some time to think, to understand everything that's happening." She turned towards the stairs. "I'm going to shower. I won't eat tonight; I already had dinner."
The words struck him, the casual statement echoing in the quiet room. "With whom, sweetie? I thought you never ate out." His voice was suddenly strained, laced with concern.
"I had dinner with Tobi, and... I made a new friend. Just wanted to tell you." She started up the stairs, pausing on the landing to face him. "Dad," she continued, her tone softer but firm, "people change. I'm not the same as I was."
He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of agitation. "How was school today? Did you make any friends? Was anyone unkind to you?" He clung to the familiar questions, hoping for a thread of connection. "I know I'm not your mum, not a girl, but I still care about what happens to you."
Megara's nostrils flared, her fists clenching at her sides. A sudden wave of defensiveness washed over her, her heart pounding. "Please, Dad, don't mention anything about Regina. I'm just tired. I need to rest; tomorrow's another school day." Her voice sharpened, a hint of suppressed anger coloring her words. "Goodnight, Dad. I'll tell you about it when I'm ready. Right now, I just need to sleep."
He watched her ascend the remaining stairs, a sigh escaping his lips. Turning, he walked towards the kitchen. "Alright, sweetie. Goodnight, sweet dreams." He offered the words like a fragile peace offering as Megara disappeared into her room. "God help me be patient," he murmured to himself, his gaze fixed on her closed door. "Help Megara understand I'm only doing this because I care."
He sat heavily at the kitchen table, staring at the untouched plate of food. A heavy burden settled in his chest, a dull ache of worry and a profound sense of pity for his daughter. The night deepened, the rhythmic hooting of owls and the insistent chirping of crickets filling the silence, each sound amplifying the unspoken anxieties that hung heavy in the air. The future, like the darkness outside, held an unsettling uncertainty.
THE NEXT MORNING
The morning sun illuminated Jefferson Mansion as Uriel emerged, a picture of self-assured style. His burnt orange Balenciaga sweatpants and crème wool turtleneck short-sleeve shirt showcased the defined contours of his arm muscles and the smooth expanse of his pale skin. A JB headset rested casually around his neck, a diamond bronco pin sparkled on his chest, and a Gucci scarf was knotted jauntily around his head. Adidas Ozgaia sneakers grounded the high-fashion look. His emerald eyes, full lips, and a flawlessly sculpted Greek nose added to his striking presence, lending a regal air to his attire. He radiated confidence and effortless power.
Mariah, the head maid, approached, a Gucci mini Ophidia messenger bag held delicately in her hand. Her gaze remained fixed on the bag, carefully avoiding his piercing stare. "Young Master, your bag arrived this morning, as you requested," she said softly, extending the bag towards him.
A subtle smirk touched Uriel's lips as he accepted the bag, his eyes briefly lingering on the iconic logo. He slipped his phone inside, the soft click echoing slightly, before slinging the bag across his shoulder. He then strode towards his waiting Agusta A109s. The helicopter's blades began their rapid, rhythmic whir as the pilot prepared for ascent. Just then, Gabriel, the ever-present butler, waved frantically, signaling an immediate stop.
The pilot peered at Gabriel's small figure, then adjusted his microphone, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "Young Master, the butler is waving. It appears he wishes to speak with you," he informed Uriel, awaiting his instructions.
Uriel's expression hardened, a vein throbbing visibly at his temple. "What else could he possibly say besides reiterating my deadbeat father's ludicrous decree forbidding me from using any aircraft?" he asked, his voice sharp with skepticism, causing the pilot to glance back again.
Gabriel, having procured a microphone from a nearby maid, switched it on and held it to his mouth. "Young Master," his voice resonated across the manicured lawns, "remember the explicit instructions of your father. You are strictly forbidden from using any aviation."
A defiant smirk stretched across Uriel's face as he leaned out of the helicopter window. "Tell my deadbeat father that I do precisely as I please, and he has absolutely no authority over my life!" he declared, before retracting his head and gesturing impatiently to the pilot. "Hurry up! If I'm even a minute late for school, I'll dock your pay."
Sinking into the luxurious embrace of the helicopter seat, he settled the black headset over his ears. The opening chords of the Backstreet Boys' "I Want It That Way" filled the cabin. His eyelids fluttered closed, the familiar melody resonating deep within him, momentarily eclipsing the world and its attendant anxieties.