Semua Bab STEP CLOSER, MY STEP BROTHER : Bab 101 - Bab 110

Jena’s POVThree years.Three whole years.That’s how long it has been since I last held my daughter. Since I last saw her face in person. Since she walked out of my life and never looked back.People say time heals wounds, but they’re wrong. Time doesn’t heal. Time only makes the silence louder, the guilt heavier, the ache deeper. Every morning when I open my eyes, the first thought that slices through me is her name. Ariana.And then the guilt comes crashing in.I told her to abort her baby. I said words a mother should never say. Words that burned a hole in her heart. I thought I was protecting her. I thought I was guiding her. I thought… God, I thought I was doing the right thing.But I was selfish. I see that now.I wanted to save my marriage. I wanted to save the life I had rebuilt with Mark after everything fell apart. I thought if Ariana just listened to me, if she did what I asked, everything would stay together. That somehow forcing her to choose between her future and that

SIDE STORY I wake up before the alarm because the apartment always wakes first.Paris makes sounds even when it’s trying to be quiet. Pipes knock like they’re clearing their throats. A scooter complains somewhere below our window. Someone laughs too loudly for this hour and then apologizes to no one. The rain has been falling since the night, thin and patient, tapping the balcony railing as if it’s counting something important.Mama says I sleep like a stone. Papa says I sleep like a cat. I think both are wrong. Stones don’t dream, and cats wake up for everything. I wake up because I feel the day coming.I stay still for a minute, listening. Our apartment smells like coffee already, which means Papa is up. He wakes before everyone else, like he’s guarding the morning. Mama says he’s just an early riser. I know the truth. He likes to make sure the world is ready for us.My room is small but mine. The walls are pale blue because Mama said it would feel like sky even when it rains. Ther

Gray clouds hang low like they’re thinking about rain but haven’t made up their minds yet. I stand by the mirror pulling my sweater straight, even though Mama already fixed it once. My backpack feels heavier than usual, even though the only new thing inside it is a folded piece of paper.The letter.I check again before leaving my room. Still there. Folded neatly. Safe.Zeus watches from the ceiling, quiet and sharp-edged. I look up at him and whisper, “Today.” He doesn’t answer, but the crack looks a little brighter in the morning light, and I take that as a good sign.At breakfast, Papa asks if I slept well. Mama asks if I’m hungry. I answer both questions, but my mind is already at school, already walking down the hallway with the lockers and the echoing footsteps and Bella two rows ahead of me.Papa notices something anyway. He always does.“You okay?” he asks, not looking at me directly, like he doesn’t want to scare the truth out of me.“I’m okay,” I say. And I am. I think. Nerv

I wake up without the panic this time. No alarm screaming. No Mama calling my name from the kitchen. No feeling like the day is already chasing me. The apartment feels quiet in a different way, like it’s waiting instead of pushing. I lie there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, at the thin crack shaped like lightning. Zeus. He’s still there, stretched out like he owns the place. It takes a second before it clicks. Friday. A holiday. No school.The relief settles into me slowly. I roll onto my side and hug my pillow, letting myself stay there longer than usual. Papa is gone. I know that without checking. When he travels, the house changes its mood, like it’s learned to speak softer. Mama is still home though. I hear her footsteps in the kitchen, unhurried, the kettle clicking on. Normal sounds. Safe ones.When I finally get up and walk out, Mama looks over her shoulder and smiles. She’s not dressed for work yet, just comfortable clothes, hair loose. That tells me everything. She’s

I don’t notice how late it is until my phone buzzes.The office is quieter than it should be for a Friday afternoon, the kind of quiet that makes you too aware of your own breathing. I’ve already packed my bag, already shut down my computer, but I’m still sitting there, staring at nothing, replaying a face that has refused to leave me alone all day.Red hair. Pale skin. Green eyes.Too familiar. The only difference is Clara hair isn't red but Brown, Isabella face looks exactly like my wrose nightmare God I can never forget what Clara did to me locked me up in an abounded house beat the shit outta me because she's fucking crazy.I tell myself I’m being dramatic. That time reshapes people. That memory lies. That not every red-haired child belongs to a ghost from my past.Still, when I stand up and head for the elevator, my chest feels tight in a way I don’t like.The drive to Bella’s estate takes longer than I expect. Not because of traffic Paris traffic is its usual chaos but because m