Under the Starlit Sky
Beneath a sky adorned with countless stars, Maria walked through an empty street—one of those luxurious neighborhoods that seemed utterly lifeless, as was often the case with the wealthy districts. Towering mansions with extravagant embellishments stood like modern-day palaces, yet they lacked the sounds of life. No children's laughter, no games echoing through the air—only a cold silence. These were homes of people who spent their evenings at lavish parties or kept their children occupied with regimented activities, depriving them of the simple joys of childhood.
Maria's footsteps were heavy under the dim streetlights. Her long coat dangled from her left arm, while her right hand clutched a stack of work files. Her hair, once perfectly styled that morning, was now in disarray, and exhaustion was etched onto her face. Thoughts whirled through her mind like a relentless storm, threatening to shatter the last remnants of her composure.
She had received a call earlier that day—from the police station. For once, she had dared to hope for good news. A lead, a breakthrough, a trace—something, anything. But what she got instead was another dead end. The case was closed… again. For the third time. No trace of him. No evidence. Nothing.
Her pace grew unsteady, her body growing weaker under the weight of despair, until finally, her legs gave out. The sharp crack of her heel snapping echoed through the empty street, and she collapsed onto the ground. For a few moments, she simply stared at the pavement before the tears came, spilling uncontrollably. Every time she rebuilt her hope, it was crushed again.
"Where are you? Did you drown? Were you murdered? Why am I the only one still searching? Where are you?!"
Losing her father had been unbearable, but what was worse… was losing him without a grave to grieve at.
Meanwhile, behind the grand iron gates of the late Sergeant Conor Reyes' estate, the "perfect," "warm," and "loving" family was gathered around the dinner table.
Or rather, the battlefield.
Aiden sat beside his mother, with his younger brother, Luca, to his right. At the head of the table sat Chris, his expression carved from stone, and beside him, his wife, Olivia. The atmosphere was thick with tension, the kind that everyone knew well.
Chris finally broke the silence, his voice gravelly with restrained fury.
"Where is he?"
No one dared to answer.
Aiden shut his eyes, resting his forehead against his hand, already anticipating the explosion to come. And, as expected, it came.
Chris slammed his fist against the table, his voice razor-sharp.
"I won't ask again. Where is he?!"
Their mother flinched before stammering, her voice barely above a whisper. "H-he had a m-match..."
The screech of a chair scraping against the floor cut her off.
Chris stood abruptly, his patience snapping, his tone dripping with condemnation. "I thought I made the rules clear. This is your fault. You've spoiled them so much, they've become weak. Pathetic."
Aiden clenched his jaw, swallowing the insult. Olivia, as usual, simply lowered her head, silent tears rolling down her cheeks.
And then, amidst the suffocating tension, the door swung open.
Damian limped inside, his injured foot barely supporting him. His face was bruised, his uniform torn, but his eyes gleamed with triumph. In his hands, he held the championship trophy, a victorious grin lighting up his battered face.
"Mom! We won! We won!"
But instead of cheers, he was met with exhaustion in his mother's gaze, fury in Aiden's stiffened posture, and finally—Chris' eyes, burning with something disturbingly close to disgust.
Chris didn't give him a chance to explain. In a single motion, he strode forward, wrenched the trophy from Damian's hands, and hurled it against the dining room door. The sharp crash echoed through the room, just like the sound of Damian's dreams shattering.
The boy's smile faltered. His fingers curled into fists, his grip tightening around the cane he used for support.
Chris took slow, measured steps toward him, his voice low but razor-sharp.
"What is this?"
Damian lowered his gaze. "I… I got hurt during the game..."
Chris didn't let him finish. He scoffed.
"Look at yourself. Filthy. Weak. You think this is acceptable? I expected you to uphold our family's name, not disgrace it by chasing a ball like some street rat."
"I… I'm sorry..."
Chris let out a cold chuckle, eyes gleaming with contempt.
"Sorry? Sorry? Do I look like your wife to accept apologies?" He leaned in closer, voice dripping with venom. "You broke the rules. You know what that means."
Then, without another word, he turned and ascended the stairs, leaving Damian standing there—his eyes glassy, his lips twitching in the ghost of a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Aiden sighed, rising from his chair. He walked over, picked up the shattered trophy, and wordlessly placed it back in Damian's trembling hands. Without looking at him, he muttered, "It's okay..." before walking away.
Their mother broke into quiet sobs, while Luca continued eating as if nothing had happened.
Damian took a deep breath, steadying himself, before slowly dragging his weary body upstairs. He knew what awaited him.
He had broken the rules.
And now, he would pay the price.
All he could hope for was that it would be over quickly.
Ah yes, the perfect, loving family.How... utterly delightful.🙄