MasukChapter 7
I pushed open the apartment door, the familiar creak of the hinges mixing with the low hum of voices from the kitchen.
The scent of garlic and herbs drifted out, warm and inviting, but it did little to ease the knot in my stomach.
Mom’s laughter floated through the air, light and genuine in a way that pulled at my chest.
I set my keys down quietly, hanging my backpack on the hook by the door, and paused for a moment in the narrow hallway.
The research assignment from Professor Lang still burned in my mind, its themes of blended families and hidden tensions feeling like a spotlight aimed directly at my life.
“Derek? Is that you?” Mom called out. Her voice carried that excited edge she’d had more often lately. “Come join us. Marcus brought some wedding brochures.”
I took a breath, forcing my expression into something neutral, and stepped into the kitchen.
The space felt smaller than usual, the overhead light casting a soft glow over the table cluttered with glossy pamphlets, a laptop, and half-empty mugs of tea.
Mom sat at one end, her hair tied back loosely, a smile lighting up her face as she flipped through a venue catalog.
Marcus occupied the chair beside her, his broad shoulders relaxed, sleeves of his button-down shirt rolled to his elbows.
He looked at home here, pen in hand as he made notes on a pad. His dark eyes lifted to meet mine, steady and calm, with that restrained patience I was coming to recognize all too well.
“Hey,” I said, moving to the counter to pour myself a glass of water. The cool liquid did nothing to settle the heat rising in my neck. “Wedding stuff already?”
Mom nodded enthusiastically, pushing a brochure toward me. “We’re just getting started, but it feels good to plan ahead.
Marcus found this garden venue that’s not too far intimate, with space for everyone. What do you think?”
I glanced at the photos of flower arches and string lights, then at Marcus. He offered a small nod, not pushing. “It’s your decision,” I replied, keeping my tone even. “Looks nice.”
Marcus’s presence had increased over the past few days. What started as occasional dinners had shifted into more frequent evenings as wedding planning gained momentum.
He arrived with folders of options or simple groceries, helping Mom sort through details without taking over.
I’d return from campus library shifts or meetings with Alex to find him already integrated into the rhythm of our apartment.
He knew where the spare notebooks were kept, how Mom liked her tea steeped just so.
Watching him move comfortably through our home stirred a confusing mix of resentment and something sharper, more conflicted.
Mom laughed again as Marcus pointed out a potential conflict in the dates, her hand resting briefly on his arm.
It was a sound I hadn’t heard this freely in years, not since the long hospital nights with Dad. She deserved it.
The thought repeated in my head like a mantra, but guilt gnawed at the edges.
I resented him for being the one to draw it out of her, for fitting so seamlessly where I still felt like an observer in my own life.
Intelligent enough to see the hypocrisy in my feelings, shy enough to keep them locked down, I retreated to the table anyway, sitting across from them.
Dinner unfolded slowly. Marcus had helped prepare a simple roasted chicken and vegetables, the aroma filling the kitchen as we served ourselves.
Mom carried most of the conversation, chatting about her clinic schedule and how the wedding might align with it.
Marcus listened attentively, his voice low and measured when he contributed.
“We’ll make sure it doesn’t overlap with your finals, Derek,” he said at one point, passing the bowl of roasted potatoes my way.
His fingers didn’t brush mine, but the consideration landed anyway. “Your mom mentioned the research assistant position. Sounds like a big opportunity with Professor Lang.”
I took the bowl, noting how he remembered the detail from a brief mention days ago.
Small things like that kept surfacing my preference for extra pepper, the way I organized my notes. It made maintaining distance harder. “It’s fine. Heavy on family dynamics, but I can manage.”
Mom’s eyes brightened. “See? He’s already thinking ahead for you. This is going to be good for all of us.”
I remained distant through the meal, offering short responses while my mind wandered to the project outline Alex and I had sketched earlier.
The apartment felt warmer with Marcus here, the lighting softer somehow.
Yet every laugh from Mom amplified my internal conflict. She looked happier, years lighter, and I felt guilty for the resentment bubbling beneath my guarded exterior.
He was patient, mature, never forcing inclusion but extending it naturally. At one point, he asked about my literature seminar, recalling a book I’d mentioned in passing.
The kindness chipped away at my anger, leaving it brittle. I helped clear the table afterward, the clink of dishes filling the quiet.
Mom kissed my cheek before heading to bed early, exhausted from her shift. “Love you, honey. Try to get some rest.”
Marcus lingered, wiping down the counter with efficient movements. The kitchen light hummed overhead, casting long shadows.
I wanted to escape to my room, but his presence held me there a moment longer.
“You don’t have to force conversation,” he said quietly, voice restrained. “But I’m here if the wedding stuff gets overwhelming.”
I nodded once, not trusting myself to reply fully. His protectiveness, emotionally held back, only heightened the slow tension between us.
I retreated to my room, closing the door softly. The research project loomed in my mind, its themes echoing too closely.
Marcus was becoming a fixture, comfortable in our home, and Mom’s joy made my resentment feel selfish. Yet the pull, unacknowledged but growing, left me staring at the ceiling long into the night.
Outside, the city sounds faded into quiet.
I wondered how much longer I could watch this unfold without the careful balance shifting irreversibly.
The next vendor meeting was scheduled soon, and Marcus would likely be there again, his steady presence another step deeper into our lives.
Derek’s POVThe transport pulled away from the site while the light was still thin. Through the window the low buildings slid out of frame one by one, the lab, the staging shed with its dented door, the path that led toward the far section. I kept my forehead near the glass and watched until there was nothing left but fields and the road.My bag sat between my boots. June’s gloves were folded on top of the clothes inside. I had checked twice before zipping it. The gloves still held the shape of work. Everything else in the bag was just proof that six weeks had fit into something I could carry.The other passengers talked in low voices or slept. A woman across the aisle scrolled her phone. Someone near the front ate from a paper bag and tried not to make noise. I didn’t put in headphones. The hum of the engine and the occasional rattle of the frame were enough. For the first stretch I didn’t think about much except the way my shoulders felt without a pack on them and the fact that m
Chapter 100Derek’s POVFriday arrived without urgency. The board held only residual tasks, signature confirmations, a final equipment cross-check, the kind of administrative thinning that meant the season had already decided to end. I woke to the absence of pressure and found it almost disorienting. For six weeks my body had organized itself around lists. Suddenly the lists were done.Priya caught me near staging with a form that needed initials.“Last one,” she said. “Then you’re free of my handwriting.”I signed. She checked the signature as if it might still contain an error, then nodded.“Keep the gloves June gave you. Soft hands are a moral failing in this line of work.”“I’ll protect their reputation.”“See that you do.” She paused, then added, without ceremony, “You were easy to have here. That’s rarer than competence.”Before I could answer she was already moving toward the lab. I stood with the signed form and the unexpected weight of being described as easy to have, not as
Chapter 99Derek’s POVThursday opened with a thin frost on the gravel and the particular quiet of a site already half-turned toward leaving. I woke before the alarm, packed the last of my personal gear into the bag by the door, and stood for a moment with my hand on the latch of the room I had stopped thinking of as temporary. Then I went to breakfast.Priya was already at the board with a pen and a short list. She glanced at me over it.“Closure draft tonight. Equipment returns by the end of the day. Don’t make me chase either.”“You won’t have to.”“I’ll hold you to that.”June slid a cup of coffee toward me when I sat down. It was still bad. She watched me drink it with the expression of someone conducting a scientific trial.“Last full workday,” she said. “Try not to become inspirational.”“No risk.”“Good. Inspirational people are exhausting.”Malik arrived late, dropped into the chair across from us, and announced that he had dreamt the coffee urn was sentient and vengeful.
Chapter 98Derek’s POVTuesday started with a thinner briefing and a longer list. Priya handed out equipment-return drafts and reminded everyone that closure numbers had to match staged trays before Thursday night. My name was still under mid-section verification. The work was real. So was the fact that I kept checking the day of the week like it might have jumped forward while I wasn’t looking.June fell into step with me on the way to staging.“You’re distracted,” she said.“I’m counting days.”“Count trays instead. Days don’t care.”She wasn’t wrong. I put my head into the morning run and kept it there through the first grid. The ground was firm. The seals held. Malik appeared at the edge of the plot with a crate of replacement labels and a complaint about the coffee already going bitter. Ordinary noise. I let it settle around the work.What I couldn’t fully quiet was the low, persistent awareness that Marcus was three days closer than he had been on Sunday. Not as an emergency.
Chapter 97Derek’s POVMonday of the final week started with a revised assignment sheet and less patience in the air.Priya posted it before breakfast: final verification runs on the mid and near grids, closure logs due by Friday, equipment return lists circulating by Thursday.My name was under verification lead for the mid-section not solo in name, but responsible for the sheet quality before it reached her desk.June read the board beside me and made a low sound.“She gave you the mid-section lead.”“Looks like it.”“That means if the numbers drift, she comes to you first.” June glanced at me. “Try not to enjoy the power. It makes people unbearable.”“I’ll suffer quietly.”“See that you do.”Malik arrived late to the board, coffee in hand, and squinted at the list. “I’m on near-grid support. If any
Chapter 96Derek’s POVThe notice went up on the board before breakfast: mid-section overflow, afternoon block, all available juniors. Priya’s handwriting. No drama in the wording, just the implication that the backlog from the wet week still needed bodies.I read it twice while holding a cup of bad coffee and felt the familiar pull of a full day settling into place.June appeared at my shoulder, already packing a second set of gloves into her pocket.“You’re on it,” she said. “Malik too. Try not to look grateful. It encourages them.”“I wasn’t going to.”“Good. Harrow wants clean seals and no speeches. We’re clearing, not inventing.”Malik joined us at the staging door with a piece of toast in his mouth and a clipboard under his arm.He swallowed, pointed at the board, and said, “Overflow means someone miscounted last week. I







