Chapter Two: The Day Everything Changedđđ
Four years ago. That was how far back Lucien had to go to reach the memory. It came to him in pieces, like shattered glass scattered across time. Some parts sharp, others hazy. He never knew why the memory felt like that â broken. Like someone had taken a blade to his mind and cut out the pieces that mattered most. He was thirteen the day he woke up in the hospital. Alone. The rain was gentle the day Lucien woke up in the hospital. It tapped quietly against the windows, like someone too polite to knock. He blinked into the harsh white light above him, unsure where he was or how long he'd been there. His body felt heavy. His head ached. There were bandages wrapped around his arms. A sharp sting throbbed in his side. He didnât remember getting hurt. He didnât remember anything. He turned his head slowly. Machines beeped beside him. A bag of fluid hung from a stand. There was no one sitting at his bedside. No flowers. No warm faces waiting with smiles. Just silence and the dull hum of machines. He thought maybe his mother had stepped out. She always brought him warm soup and tucked him in when he was sick. Maybe Cassian had gone to get juice or chips from the vending machine. Surely his father was just outside, speaking with a doctor. But no one came that day. Or the day after. He lay in that hospital bed for a full week, watching the nurses come and go. They were kind, but distant. They didnât talk to him much. He heard whispers outside his room, words like "trauma," "amnesia," and "heâs lucky to be alive." Lucien didnât feel lucky. He felt forgotten. The day he was released, a driver came to get him. Not his father. Not Cassian. A man in a black suit who said nothing during the long ride home. Lucien stared out the window, watching buildings blur into fields. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his chest. When they reached the Ainsworth Estate, it was quiet. Too quiet. The usual staff werenât at the door. No one welcomed him back. The house looked the same â tall pillars, grand staircase, golden chandelier â but it felt like a museum. Cold. Empty. He walked through the halls alone, his footsteps echoing. He found Gerard Ainsworth in the study, seated behind a large mahogany desk. Lucien stepped inside slowly. "Father?" His father didnât look up from his papers. "You're back." Lucien hesitated. "Where's... where's Mom?" The air in the room changed. Gerard finally looked at him. His eyes were sharp, unreadable. "Sheâs dead." Lucienâs legs went weak. "What...?" "You were in the car too," Gerard said, voice flat. "Don't you remember?" Lucien shook his head. "No. I donât." His father stood, pushing the chair back. "Then consider yourself lucky." He walked past Lucien without another word, leaving the boy frozen in place. That night, Lucien cried for the first time in years. He searched for Cassian. The maids told him his twin was sent to boarding school abroad. No phone call. No letter. Just... gone. Lucien wandered into his motherâs room the next morning. It hadnât been touched. Her scarf was still on the armchair. Her perfume lingered faintly in the air. On her vanity sat a photograph â Lucien and Cassian as toddlers, both holding her hands. He reached for it, and his hands trembled. Everything had changed, and no one had told him why. He went through her drawers, trying to find something. A letter. A clue. Anything. But all he found was a locked journal. And a small pendant she used to wear â shaped like a crescent moon. Lucien held it tightly in his fist. Over the next few years, he was pushed further into the shadows. He was forbidden from attending events. He ate alone. He was tutored separately. And Gerard â his father â never spoke to him unless it was to belittle or strike him. Once, Lucien asked the old gardener, Mr. Poe, what had really happened to his mother. Mr. Poe only looked at him with sad eyes. "Some truths are buried, boy. And those who dig them up donât always survive." So he stopped asking. But he never stopped wondering. Why had his father grown to hate him so much? Why couldnât he remember the accident? What happened that night when his mother died? Lucien carried those questions like stones in his chest. He kept the pendant hidden beneath his shirt, the only thing left of her. On quiet nights, he held it close, whispering to it like a prayer. "I miss you, Mom." And in his heart, something unanswered always whispered back. ~~~ A soft knock pulled Lucien out of the memory. He blinked, realizing he was still sitting at the edge of his bed, holding that silver chain Cassian gave him that morning. The maid came in, informing him to help out with the preparation of the party. And then, she left. Lucien closed his eyes, swallowing down the ache that always followed that memory. No matter how many years passed, it still felt like he had lost everything without warning. His mother. His place in this house. And maybe even... himselfLucien woke up slowly, He stretched his arms lazily, expecting to feel the warmth of Zayn beside him. His hand touched only cool sheets. He frowned, rolling over and finding the space empty. âWhere did he go this early?â he mumbled to himself, rubbing his eyes. With a sigh, Lucien pushed the blanket aside and got out of bed. He padded toward the bathroom, brushing his teeth, splashing water on his face, and staring at his reflection for a moment. His hair was a mess, his eyes still sleepy, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips. Today was special. Not just any dayâhis birthday. His and his twinâs birthday. That thought made him chuckle softly. After washing up, he headed out, his bare feet brushing against the cool floor. He walked straight to the calendar hanging on the wall near the dresser. His eyes landed on the red circle he had drawn days ago, with a little heart beside it. âFinally,â he whispered, his smile growing wider. He touched the date with his fing
After that day, everything seemed to change.Zaylien loved his Papa and Dad even more, and he cherished them with a heart full of gratitude. He woke up every morning with a new kind of energy, as though the weight that had once followed him had fallen away. His parents had told him the truth and that gave him confidence.On Monday morning, he walked into school with a smile. His backpack bounced lightly on his shoulder, students noticed the change in him. Some stared, wondering why he looked brighter than usual. Others whispered, curious about what had caused this sudden glow.As Zaylien made his way toward his classroom, someone stepped in front of him. Derek. Zaylien tried to sidestep, choosing not to give Derek his energy, but Derek moved quickly and blocked him again.âWhat do you want?â Zaylien asked flatly, his smile fading but not his courage.Derek folded his arms and smirked. âI just wanted to see how a boy without a mother is faring.âA few students passing by slowed their
It was the weekend, but the Kinsley mansion didnât feel lively like it usually did. The laughter that often filled the vast halls seemed absent. The warmth that once surrounded the family table had grown cold. Zaylien, after having breakfast, had gone straight up to his room and didnât come down for lunch. Now it was already dinner time, yet there was still no sign of him. Lucien sat in the sitting room, his hands folded together, his eyes fixed toward the staircase. Every minute, his gaze drifted upward, hoping to see his son descend. He wanted to see him eat, laugh, or at least say something. But Zaylien never came down. Lucienâs chest tightened with every hour that passed. He had always been sensitive to Zaylienâs moods, and this distant behavior had been eating him alive for days. Tonight, he could not take it anymore. His son was growing colder, shutting them out. Something had to be done. At that instant, Lucien made up his mind. It was time to reveal the truth. He had been
For the past one week, things had not been the same for the Kinsleys family. Zaylien had grown distant. He no longer lingered in the living room to chat, nor did he laugh when Lucien tried to lighten the mood. He spoke less and less, keeping to himself, sometimes locking himself in his room for hours. Lucien, of course, had been frustrated by this sudden change. Zayn was not around often. He was busy handling business wars with rival mafias, refusing to bend to their demands. That left Lucien alone, trying to patch the cracks that were forming inside his own home. It was Saturday morning. Zaylien had refused to step outside his room since breakfast. He stayed upstairs, pretending the rest of the house didnât exist. Lucien sighed as he looked up at the ceiling, as though his gaze could reach his son. He sighed again, long and heavy. He had tried speaking, tried reasoning, but Zaylien only gave him short, cold answers. There was one person Lucien always trusted when he felt helples
Zayn came home later that evening,as he stepped into the living room. The quiet was unusual. Then his eyes fell on the couch. Lucien was sitting there, bent forward with his elbows resting on his knees. His hands covered his face, and his whole body shook slightly. âLucien?â Zaynâs voice was soft but carried worry. Lucien raised his head slowly. His eyes were red and swollen from crying. Zayn didnât waste another second. He crossed the room quickly and crouched in front of him. âLucien, baby, what is it? What happened?â The moment he spoke, Lucien broke. He reached forward, hugging Zayn tightly, pressing his face against his chest. Sobs slipped out, muffled but raw. âHey, hey,â Zayn whispered as he wrapped his arms around him. He rubbed Lucienâs back in slow, comforting circles, his lips brushing his hair. âCalm down first. Iâm here. Iâm here.â It took a while, but slowly Lucienâs cries softened. His breathing evened out though his face was still wet with tears. Zayn
~~~~~TWO DAYS LATER~~~~~ Carden sat at the dining table, his spoon turning slowly in the bowl of rice that had already gone cold. His shoulders slumped. Arden came in a moment later and sat across from him. Carden let out a heavy sigh. âShouldnât we tell someone? I feel bad for their parents.â Arden poked at his food without looking up. âYeah, thatâs true. But⊠wonât Zaylien be against us? You know how he gets.â Carden clenched his jaw. âHe doesnât even see it. He thinks itâs just a game. But those families⊠they looked broken.â Before Arden could reply, the soft sound of footsteps filled the room. Their mother walked in, her hair neatly tied back, a calm expression on her face. The boys went quiet immediately and focused on their food. She took her seat at the head of the table, glancing at both of them. âWhy are you two so quiet today?â she asked. âNothing, Mom,â Carden said quickly. Arden nodded, forcing a smile. âJust tired, thatâs all.â Their mother hummed softl