IN THE EVENING.
Megara was finally done with her day's work and it was time to go home. She walked down the silent streets of brookville alongside Tobi who wasn't scared and tired of chatting about the earlier incidents that took place at the cafe.
She stood in front of her house staring at the dimlight in the living room. She knew her father was back and was lying down on the couch due to fatigue but waving her sadness and perplexed mind she walked up to the porch before unlocking the door from outside. Megara walked inside silently trying not to wake her sleeping father up but he was already up the time the door opened and gave her a warm hug.
She was stunned momentarily before hugging him. "Dad what's wrong are you okay? She asked still wrapping her arms around his upper back.
"I thought you'd never come back sweetheart I'm a burden to you and I know I can't give you the life you deserve but I'll try. He whispered sobbing before loosening his grip around her waist.
"No no dad you're not a burden to me or to anyone. If they don't understand I do and I'll never leave you behind alright we've been through a lot for me to do that. She promised guiding him to the couch. "Did you have dinner already?
"No I didn't but I bought Chicken wings and scrambled eggs your favourite. He smiled heading straight to the detached kitchen.
Megara frowned momentarily before smiling as she accompanied him. "Dad you shouldn't have done that I'm sure you got your salary today and decided to spend it on this dish do you know how much it costs? She giggled sitting down on the dining table.
Mr smith looked at her in a concerned look returning his gaze back to the dish. "Megara stop being petty it's not my salary I worked overtime and decided to reward you with something. He cooed winking his eyes while he sets the dish on the table.
Megara smiled delightful rubbing her palms together before grabbing her spoon. She moaned in sheer delight upon tasting the food. "Mhmmm this is good dad it's delicious.
"You like it? He asked in anticipation. "Since you like it you might be getting more of these if I get more job offers.
She shot him a curious glare her spoon slowly slipping from her hand making her dad worried. "Let me guess it's that stupid manager, Tyler McCartney, again isn't he? She growled angrily digging her fingers into her messy hair. "I wish he was here so I can just beat the fuckin daylight outta his messed up jackass life.
Mr Smith laughs profusely at the funny expressions before tugging her hand underneath his palm. " Sweetie we don't do that do we? No we can't because if you do I'll lose my job and you'll have to drop ot of school and I won't sit well knowing you're not schooling. He comforts staring at her beady wet eyes.
"Dad I'm just so overwhelmed and sorry that you're going through all this and I can't do anything to help you or support. She sobbed profusely burying her face in her palm.
He hugged her letting her sob on his shoulder. "No Megara you're my baby girl and that's what you'll be and I'm not sad or expecting you to do much so just go to school and work at the convenience store to make some pocket money for yourself and leave the bills to me. He assured in a rasped voice as tears rushed down his cheek trailing their way down into her shoulder.
"Dad it's Nathan's mum birthday party on Saturday and we've got to attend. She informed still snuggling her face on his shoulder.
"I can't make it but you'll attend in place of me and I'll get her a nice gift. He replied patting her gently on the back.
Megara pulled away from her dad's hug before laughing uncontrollably. The coldness in her heart and eyes were quickly replaced with warmth and the rest of the night passed in a daze.
TWO DAYS LATER(SATURDAY MORNING)
Megara stood before the large, antique mirror in her room, admiring her reflection. A silent thank you went to Tobi, whose insistence had led to this transformation: a new dress, a fresh hairstyle, all in pursuit of Nathan's attention. She wore a sunny yellow bubble dress, its hemline just above her knees, paired with elegant white strappy heels and a matching bag. Her hair, recently cut and styled, framed her face perfectly. Her lips appeared fuller, and her eyes sparkled with an eager anticipation, a reflection of the excitement bubbling within her as she imagined confessing her feelings to Nathan, looking her absolute best.
She giggled cheerfully twirling in before the mirror taking a good look at her reflection in admiration. "He'll like me for sure and then we'll be together I'm sure he would. She cooed blowing a kiss to her reflection before walking out of the room.
Mr. Smith had placed the gifts on the dinner table before leaving for work, leaving Megara to deliver them to the birthday celebrant. She smiled, taking a delicate spoonful of cereal, careful not to disturb her freshly applied lipstick. After finishing, she left the house, leaving a quiet stillness behind. However, as she hailed a cab down the street, the joy within her remained brightly evident.
THE ARNOLD'S FAMILY MANSION.
The sun, a molten gold wash, gilded the imposing Parisian mansion, its manicured grounds a tableau of sculpted trees, dwarfed shrubs, and crimson roses. Sentinels, silent and watchful, traced the perimeter, a subtle cage around the opulent haven.
Inside, the Arnold living room was a symphony of curated elegance. Sunlight danced across a priceless French tapestry, illuminating the intricate weave of a Russian rug beneath. The furniture, a blend of antique and bespoke, whispered of generations of wealth and refined taste.
Mrs. Arnold, her fingers delicate as porcelain, tended a single, perfect red rose in an onyx vase, its dark gleam mirroring the polished glass table. Her husband and father-in-law, their voices a low murmur, putted golf balls across a miniature green, an absurd luxury within the grand room. As Hugo entered, carrying travel-worn bags, the maids, like synchronized shadows, bowed in deference, their movements a silent acknowledgment of his arrival and his place within the gilded cage.
Mrs Arnold gasped and smiled, standing up and walking towards Hugo. "Hello, little munchkin! How was your day?" she hugged him.
"I'm okay. How was yours? You seem happy," Hugo said, sitting down. "Dad! Grandpa! I'm home, you can stop playing."
The golf clubs clattered into the maid's hands as Dad and Grandpa burst into the living room, their faces alight with mischievous glee. They moved with a youthful energy that belied their ages, a shared secret sparking in their eyes. Hugo, sensing impending doom, tried to slip away, but they were too quick. He found himself pinned beneath their laughing forms, a giggling human sandwich.
Mrs. Arnold, pruning roses nearby, shook her head, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Honestly, grown men acting like children," she chided, though her amusement was clear. "Get off him, you'll crush him."
Thomas, Grandpa, rose, smoothing his ruffled shirt. "Veronica, relax. He's not made of glass," he chuckled, grabbing a glass of juice from the maid and draining it in one gulp. "Ah, that's the stuff! I haven't had this much fun in decades."
A collective, skeptical look swept the room. He grinned, settling into a chair next to Hugo. "Dad, all liars go to hell," Mr. Arnold teased, playfully pinching his father's arm. "You pull this stunt every day, and Hugo still falls for it."
Thomas returned the grin, giving his son a high-five and a quick knuckle bump. "We get him every time! Besides," he defended, crossing his legs, "I'm an old man; a little fibbing is expected. You, on the other hand..."
Hugo, groaning, shot his father a look of mock sympathy before retreating to his mother's couch. "I'm going to take my chances with Mom," he declared, hugging her around the waist. "Before they actually kill me."
"Good choice," Mrs. Arnold said, smiling and stroking his hair. "You're your mother's son."
Mr. Arnold laughed, a playful jealousy flickering in his eyes as he tossed a pillow at Hugo. "Hey, get a grip! That's my wife, and she's not hugging you like she hugs me," he protested, feigning indignation.
Thomas nodded, patting his son's back. "Let him have his moment. He can only hug his mom now, you get her later, silly." He leaned back, resting his head on the armrest. "So, kid, how was basketball practice this morning?"
"Great! Uriel and Zack were there," Hugo replied, sitting up straighter. "Catherine, Natasha, and Coleman all said hello."
"It's been too long since we all hung out," Mr. Arnold admitted, his voice softening.
"Work's got everyone tied up. We're not as fun as we used to be. But," he added, a smile returning to his face, "at least our kids keep us connected, on a level that goes deeper than any business deal."
Thomas felt a pang of worry as he noticed Hugo's downcast expression. He placed a gentle hand on his grandson's shoulder. "Kid, what's the matter? You look sad. Come tell Grandpa, I'm all ears and ready to listen," he assured him, his voice filled with affection.
Hugo shifted uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact and continuing to type rapidly on his phone. "Grandpa, there's nothing. I'm just stressed after practice, that's all."
Thomas's brow furrowed. "Practice? You didn't have practice today, did you, Hugo?"
Hugo hesitated, his fingers still flying across the screen. "Yeah, I did. A special one. Coach wanted to go over some stuff."
Thomas's brow furrowed, but he didn't press. "Special training, eh? Sounds like someone's itching for the pitch."
Hugo shrugged. "Maybe. After the injury, modeling feels…safer." He tilted his head back, a gesture of weary acceptance.
"He'll model," Mr. Arnold stated, his voice devoid of warmth. "Leisurely practice, perhaps, but modeling is his path."
"You're stifling him, son," Thomas countered, a comforting glance at Hugo. "Let him decide. He's young, vibrant."
Mr. Arnold rolled his eyes, pacing to the window. "Dad, we're Arnolds. Fashion is in our blood. I won't have him running around in shorts, a sweaty spectacle."
Mrs. Arnold, tending to her flowers, looked up, a flicker of resentment in her eyes. "I model for your career. You've never asked about my garden." Her gaze returned to the petals, her touch almost fierce.
Hugo fell silent, the weight of their words pressing down on him. His life, it seemed, was a series of choices made by his father, not himself. Would he ever break free?
"I'll…shower," he mumbled, rising and retreating to his room.
Behind the closed door of the office, the debate raged on, a private battle over Hugo's future. The Arnolds, outwardly polished and successful, were a family fractured by unspoken desires and stifled dreams. The shower's hot spray did little to wash away the feeling of being trapped.