Chapter 1

Afternoons in the suburbs always carried an air of deceptive calm. At first glance, everything looked perfect: freshly trimmed lawns, gleaming mailboxes, and neighbors who greeted one another as if life could be reduced to the exchange of polite smiles. Living close to the city gave us access to everything, but it also wrapped us in a bubble of comfort designed to keep anyone from asking too many questions. I used to think that if life were a movie, this neighborhood would be the bright, polished backdrop meant to contrast with the secrets no one wanted to tell.

I grew up in a spacious, light-filled house, with a mother who came from a well-off family and a father who had earned his place in the world through hard work and talent. I call him my dad because that’s what he is to me, even if technically he isn’t. Sam came into my life when I was six, and since then I’ve never lacked anything—not laughter, not support, not the kind of hugs only real dads give. Sometimes I think he understands me better than my own mother, though I never say that out loud.

Kate, my best friend, likes to say I live in a kind of modern fairy tale: a pretty house, a nice family, and a life that looks flawless from the outside. She also came from a well-off family, but since her own castle rarely offered an available accomplice for her mischief, she often turned to mine to carry it out. What she doesn’t know—or rather, what only she seems to sense—is that even fairy tales have their odd chapters, and that sometimes princesses aren’t thinking about castles or dresses, but about how to convince their mothers to let them go to an alternative music concert.

That night, the dining table was set as always: immaculate, with perfectly aligned plates and the aroma of freshly made pasta lingering in the air. Mom had lit a few small candles, as if a dinner for three required a touch of ceremony. Dad smiled from his usual seat, wearing the calm expression of someone who knows that any moment now, a request would be made.

And he wasn’t wrong.

“Kate has tickets to a concert on Saturday night, and she wanted to see if I could go with her,” I said, breaking the silence just after we’d all taken our first bite.

Truthfully, that kind of music didn’t really appeal to me. My taste was eclectic, but not that alternative. Still, Kate had talked about the band so much that when she asked me to go with her, I didn’t hesitate to say yes. After all, it was the kind of thing best friends did.

“And what concert is it?” Mom asked, lifting her gaze from her plate.

“It’s an alternative band, but lately it’s become Kate’s favorite, and she can’t stop thinking about them.”

“I remember when that happened to me with Sirens,” she laughed softly. “I listened to their songs for hours, replaying them over and over until I drove my mom crazy.”

Sirens? Seriously—had my mom just said Sirens? I’m pretty sure her musical taste and mine have absolutely nothing in common. Not that Kate’s was much better, but Sirens… really?

“And what’s the band called?” Dad asked, always playing the mediator.

“Trollex.”

And right then, as if the scene needed an unexpected twist, Jacob appeared in the dining room. None of us had heard him come in, so he had clearly planned to surprise Dad.

“Trollex? Interesting choice,” he commented in his calm, serious voice—the one he seemed to reserve for delivering universal truths. “A band that attracts a large alternative crowd, with equally alternative substance use at their concerts, not to mention that their music lacks any real meaning.”

Mom frowned at me.

“Drugs and alcohol? Oh, Cami, that’s not an environment I’d like you to be in. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go to that concert,” she said, clearly worried. Then she turned to Jacob. “Come sit down, Jacob. I’ll bring you a plate so you can have dinner with us.”

Jacob leaned in to kiss Mom on the forehead, then hugged Dad. To me, he offered nothing more than a brief acknowledging glance, as always. And I decided to ignore him, as always.

“Mom, Jacob is exaggerating. It’s not like that. Yes, people drink at concerts, but that doesn’t mean everyone is drunk—or that I would be. There’s alcohol everywhere,” I tried to sound convincing, but Mom’s eyes already warned me to start canceling my plans. I wasn’t going to the concert.

“Yes, but some places make it easier,” she replied. “I’m sorry, Cami, but the answer is no.”

“And disappoint Kate? She’s been waiting for this for weeks,” I said, my voice sounding unfamiliar even to myself.

“There will be more concerts when you’re older. For now, you can watch them on your phone.”

“Right, because experiencing a concert through a phone screen is basically the same as being there…” I muttered, unable to stop the sarcasm.

“Cami, talking back like that won’t earn you any points. You sound like a little girl throwing a tantrum,” Mom replied, unyieldingly.

I felt the indignation rise like fire. If Jacob hadn’t opened his mouth, this would never have been a problem. And on top of everything, he looked rather amused by the whole exchange.

“It’s not a childish tantrum,” I shot back, crossing my arms. “Kate has been waiting a long time for them to go on tour, and it just happened to line up with them coming here.”

“If she’s been waiting that long, why didn’t you mention it earlier?” Mom asked.

And that’s where I went silent. I couldn’t answer—not even a sensible one. I couldn’t say anything at all.

Why hadn’t I asked for permission sooner? That wasn’t like me. I was usually careful. Now I was annoyed with myself.

Mom realized I’d run out of arguments and tried to soften things, not wanting to simply say no. She explained her concerns—concerns that might have been valid, very valid—but she did it as if she’d never been my age.

«Was Sirens from the eighties or the nineties?»

«Was there something wrong with that decade?»

I should’ve prepared better for this conversation.

While I was lost in my thoughts, Mom tried a new tactic.

“Look, you should learn from Jacob; he’s always so level-headed,” she added, smiling—a smile that hit me like a bucket of cold water.

“From Jacob? He’s twenty-three and wears a suit every single day. And how do you know he wasn’t different at seventeen?”

“At seventeen, I was already in college,” he interjected, self-assured, wearing that crooked smile that drove me insane.

Dad beamed with pride, and I rolled my eyes.

“Oh, please. Who invited you?” was the only thing I could think to say, even though I knew my comebacks never held up when it came to him.

“I didn’t realize I needed an invitation,” he replied, flashing another one of his infuriatingly perfect smiles, as if he always had the last word. Dad suppressed a laugh while Mom tried to stay serious.

“Cami, don’t fight with Jacob. He’s always welcome here,” Mom said firmly. Then she added the sentence that complicated everything. “If someone like Jacob went with you on Saturday, I wouldn’t mind you going.”

Great. Now Mom had made it impossible. Jacob and Trollex were two universes that would never collide.

“Mom, we don’t have any other options. Kate’s brother is still out of town, and I don’t think Jacob would want to go with us… would you?” I looked straight at him and offered my best smile. I had nothing to lose by trying—Mom had already said no. “Would you like to come to the concert with us, Jacob?”

As I waited for his answer, I forced myself to hold his gaze. His eyes had an intensity that sometimes intimidated me; it felt like they cut right through me, as if he were trying to speak without words, as if he were mesmerizing me. It was a silent battle in which neither of us wanted to yield—but we both knew I would lose.

It must have only been seconds, but to me it felt like minutes. I broke eye contact, sighed, and looked down at my plate. There was no reason to get my hopes up. Jacob had never done anything selfless for me. Why would he start now?

“I’ll do it,” he said suddenly.

I snapped my head up, stunned. Mom and Dad stared at him in disbelief.

“You will? You’ll go to the concert with us?”

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

“Oh, Jacob!”

I couldn’t stop myself from smiling at him. Kate was going to lose her mind, and for some strange reason, I felt… excited too. Jacob noticed my smile, and for a brief moment, I saw his jaw tighten, as if something in him had shifted as well. I didn’t want to risk him changing his mind, so I turned quickly to my parents.

“Great! Kate’s going to be so happy. I can’t wait to tell her.”

“Cami…” Mom began.

“You said it yourself, Mom—no take-backs,” I replied before she could launch into the usual ‘I still think it’s better if you don’t go’, quickly changing the subject. “Who wants dessert?”

Mom sighed, and Dad held back a laugh, knowing she’d acted too quickly, trying to distract me, and it had backfired. None of us had expected that answer from Jacob, but it was more than welcome.

We finished dinner calmly. Dad talked about work while Mom interrupted him now and then with a joke. Jacob barely spoke, but I could feel his gaze on me, as if he never stopped watching. I didn’t know whether he regretted what he’d said in front of them or if he simply enjoyed keeping me on edge—but there it was, that strange pause between us.

When dinner ended, Dad and I cleared the table while Mom prepared tea. Jacob had gone into the study to take a call from his office.

«Who starts working at twenty-one and becomes a workaholic by twenty-three?»

I know he’s a genius, but maybe he’s also a little boring.

A few minutes later, he came back to say goodbye. Mom handed him a thermos of tea for the road, and Dad hugged him tightly. In moments like those, when they were together, the devotion between them was obvious: Dad loved him like a son, and Jacob looked at him like the father he’d lost so long ago. I understood that. Even though my biological father wasn’t dead, he hadn’t been part of my life for years. I don’t have a single memory of him stored in my mind.

Jacob had lost his parents a decade ago; Sam and his grandparents had taken him in. We had both found a father figure in Sam, though in different ways. After the accident, Jacob moved in with his grandparents on the other side of the country, and Dad visited him whenever he could. When Mom married him, I was six, but Jacob and I only crossed paths during a few holidays. Then he went to college less than an hour from here, and since then, he started visiting more often—during vacations, on weekends, any excuse to see Dad. Having him nearby made Dad happy, and I accepted him for that reason, even though Jacob was always distant and curt with me. Over time, I got used to his rejection and stopped trying to get close. I assumed he had no interest in bonding with the daughter of his uncle’s wife. Still, on rare occasions, I felt there was something more beneath that armor—though maybe it was just my imagination.

“I guess I’ll see you on Saturday. No backing out!” I called after him as I opened the door.

Jacob turned halfway, met my gaze, and replied in a low voice,

“See you Saturday, Camila.”

That ‘Camila’ sent a shiver down my spine, raising the hairs on the back of my neck.

«See you Saturday, Jacob.»