Chapter 5 LACK OF EYESIGHT

'When did the good-looking kid turn ugly in those kids' eyes? Had they gone blind? What's wrong with them?'

This had been eight-year-old Arkael's bewildered, indignant reaction to little Zadkiel's claim of being bullied for his appearance. It was a thought that echoed, with bitter irony, in the present-day Arkael's mind.

"Why are you still frowning?" Arkael had asked, his childish curiosity piqued by the persistent downturn of his new little brother's mouth.

Zadkiel had been staring off into the distance, his expression clouded with a sadness that seemed far too heavy for such a young child.

'What was troubling him? Did he owe someone money?' Arkael's young mind, unfamiliar with the complexities of adult worries, could only come up with such simplistic explanations.

"I...I can't even see you," the little boy mumbled, his voice barely audible and his head drooping in shame.

The words were like a punch to Arkael's gut. A revelation that shattered his innocent assumptions.

Arkael had been stunned.

'He can't see me?' He'd repeated the words in his mind, trying to grasp their meaning. He'd looked at Zadkiel, really looked at him, for the first time. He'd raised his small hand and waved it in front of Zadkiel's face, a childish test of the boy's claim.

Nothing. No reaction. Zadkiel hadn't blinked nor flinched. He hadn't even seemed to notice as his gaze remained fixed on…nothing. 

Arkael had stared into Zadkiel's eyes, seeing the faint and milky film that obscured their blue depths. Disbelief had warred with a sudden and overwhelming surge of pity. He'd felt a sharp, unfamiliar pain in his chest, a constricting sensation he couldn't explain. He'd instinctively rubbed his chest, trying to ease the discomfort.

"What do you mean, you can't see me?" Arkael had asked, his voice filled with a mixture of confusion and burgeoning anger. His small fists had clenched at his sides, his emotions a turbulent storm he couldn't control. He'd wanted to cry, to rage against the unfairness of it all, but he'd forced himself to remain calm.

"I...I'm blind, bro—…" Zadkiel had started to say, the word "brother" hesitant and uncertain. He'd stopped himself. The fear flickered in his eyes. He was afraid of rejection, afraid of adding another layer of pain to his already difficult existence. The thought of losing this newfound connection, this unexpected offer of brotherhood, was almost unbearable.

"Come on, say it, please…" Arkael had urged, his voice was soft and encouraging. He'd needed to hear it, to solidify this fragile bond. He'd craved the title, the connection, the feeling of belonging.

"B-brother…" Zadkiel had whispered, the word tentative, fragile.

"Yes…yes! Say it clearly, brother…" Arkael had exclaimed, his voice brimming with joy and his heart swelled with a fierce protectiveness.

"I…I'm blind, brother…" Zadkiel had finally said, the word "brother" still hesitant, but gaining strength. He'd kept his gaze fixed on some distant point, unable to meet Arkael's eyes.

Arkael had released his clenched fists and his anger was replaced by an overwhelming tenderness. He'd moved closer to Zadkiel, wrapping his arms around him in a clumsy, heartfelt hug. "You're going to be better, brother…" he'd promised, his voice thick with emotion. He'd patted Zadkiel's back, a comforting gesture.

"My mom also said so…but…but I never got any better…" Zadkiel had mumbled, his voice filled with a quiet despair. "It's getting even darker every time I open my eyes…" He'd shifted restlessly, seeking a comfortable position on the hard wooden bench.

"What is your name, brother?" Arkael asked softly, wanting to know everything about this new, precious addition to his life.

"Zadkiel Axton Mortel…" the little boy had replied with a hint of pride in his voice. It was a name given to him by his father, the man he idolized.

"Hmmm…your name is quite nice," Arkael complimented while smoothing down Zadkiel's hair.

"What about you?" Zadkiel asked back, tilting his head with a flicker of curiosity in his sightless eyes as he gently released himself from Arkael's embrace.

"Call me Arky…" Arkael suggested a nickname only his sister used, now extended to this special boy.

"Arky…" Zadkiel repeated softly, testing the name on his tongue. A small, genuine smile had touched his lips. He looked…happy.

The two boys spent the rest of the afternoon talking, laughing, and sharing secrets on that park bench. Their laughter echoed through the quiet space, a testament to the burgeoning bond between them.

The insistent vibration of his phone pulled Arkael back to the present, shattering the bittersweet memory. He blinked and the opulent surroundings of the hotel lobby snapped back into focus. He reluctantly answered the call after recognizing his wife's number.

"What?" he asked, his voice curt and impatience coloring his tone. He unconsciously scanned the lobby, a habit born of years of needing to be aware of his surroundings.

"Mitch, one of your flings is here looking for you," his wife, Audrey, said, her voice surprisingly calm and even amused. "What should I do?" There was no jealousy, no anger, just a detached observation.

"Deal with her however you see fit," Arkael replied, his tone dismissive. He didn't care. These women, these fleeting encounters, meant nothing to him.

"Got it. Oh, and your mother called…" Audrey continued.

"What does she want now?" Arkael asked, his eyes narrowing. His relationship with his mother was...complicated.

"Well…she's asking for something…significant," Audrey said, her voice hinting at the magnitude of the request.

"Spit it out, Drey," Arkael snapped, his patience wearing thin as he braced himself.

"She…she wants a grandchild, Mitch," Audrey said, her voice rising in pitch.

"Damn it!" Arkael swore, his voice low and furious. "Don't worry about it. I'll handle her."

He ended the call abruptly, his anger a palpable force. His mother's demand was outrageous, a blatant disregard for the reality of his marriage. A marriage that was a sham, a carefully constructed facade for the public, a business arrangement rather than a union of love. He hadn't consented to it in the way the world believed. His mother's scheming knew no bounds, and he hated her for it, even as he understood the pressures of family legacy that drove her.

He was his mother’s son and had to endure. Her latest scheme? This marriage. Thinking back on that only made him angry all over. He kept clenching his fists, trying to contain it.

Ding!

The elevator doors opened, pulling Arkael from his dark thoughts. He stepped out, his mind still reeling, and unconsciously headed towards the small bar counter on the sixth floor. He needed a drink. A strong one.

He settled onto a bar stool, gesturing to the bartender.

"What'll it be, boss?" the bartender asked, approaching quickly.

"Scotch on the rocks. Double," Arkael ordered, his voice rough. He needed to numb the emotions, the memories, and the longing.

"Right away, sir," the bartender replied, moving efficiently to fulfill the order. Arkael was the CEO, after all.

Moments later, a glass filled with amber liquid and ice was placed before him.

"Here you go, boss," the bartender said, placing the drink on the counter.

"Thanks," Arkael mumbled, taking a large gulp, the burning liquid a welcome distraction.

"Arkael…" a female voice, slurred and suggestive, called from behind him. The lack of high heels on the polished floor announced her approach.

He ignored her, taking another long swag of his drink. He was in no mood for company, especially not this kind of company.

"Arkael Mitchel…" the woman, now close enough to touch him had stressed his full name and her voice a mixture of annoyance and seduction.

"What are you doing here?" Arkael asked flatly, not bothering to turn around.

The woman moved closer, pressing her body against his back, her voice a husky whisper in his ear. "I want you," she breathed, biting her lower lip suggestively. Her hand slid down his thigh, her touch brazen and unwelcome. Desire was practically radiating off of her.

Arkael's eyes narrowed, his gaze hardening. He tilted his head slightly, looking at the woman with a mixture of disgust and cold fury. He took a series of deep breaths to restrain himself as he rose from his stool with a swift move, he grabbed some bills from his wallet and paid the counter.

"Keep the change." Turning sharply, he addressed the woman. "Come." He grabbed her roughly, almost dragging her to the restroom.

"Ouch! Where are we going?" The woman yelped, trying to slow down as her heels struggled to find purchase on the floor.

"Can’t you be gentle? I'm in high heels!" She tried to bargain but Arkael was having none of it.

"Shut your mouth," he warned as he continuing the trek, finally stopping at the men's room.

Realizing that she was about to be taken in such a place, her face contorted in pure disgust.

"Can’t you book a decent suite?" She was getting angry, but still followed him as he opened the door.

"Be quiet." He said as he slammed the door and walked her to an empty cubicle.

Then, Arkael stared at her coldly.

This was going to be her lesson, and no one deserves the title of being his woman. Not even his wife, because for him, there is only one title, and that's being a man for his brother, Zadkiel.