The Entanglement

Episode 1

A palpable sense of sadness hung in the air of the morgue even though it was almost empty.

The little presence that could be found within was two women dressed in all black.

The first was the older of the two, had long dark brown hair with several streaks of grey on the lining around her temple, and tied it neatly into a bun.

A lacy black veil covered her face, creased with wrinkles. She found comfort in the fact that the mesh of her veil made it hard for others to see her dampened cheeks.

Beside her was a woman who could only be described as a younger version of her, with her dark brown hair full of life and her face smooth and unblemished by the passing of time.

Her large brown eyes seemed like pools of sadness as they looked at a portrait that was laid out before her.

The portrait was of an old man around the same age as the older woman. Of what little hair he had at the time the picture was taken, it had gone completely grey, and the bald patch at the center of his head had a large liver spot.

The rest of his face was similarly worse for wear, with sagging cheeks and excess skin around his neck, and enough wrinkles to last a lifetime. Despite this, the old man wore a large smile that made him seem thirty years younger.

The two women continued to kneel before the portrait of the man in prayer.

The sweet-smelling smoke of the incense sticks in front of them wafted gently through the morgue.

The fragrance of the incense was quickly washed away as the brass double doors swung open at the command of a priest.

The holy man invoked the trinity and gave a brief prayer before approaching the two women.

“Mrs. Milian,” he said. “I’m afraid your time with us has come to a close.”

“Thank you, father,” the older woman said. Please, give us a few minutes to round up our prayers.”

The priest nodded and smiled before turning to take his leave. Shortly after, the two women made their way out of the morgue. Waiting for them outside was a shower of rain and a young man standing in it.

Soaked was an understatement for the man’s current state. His wet brown hair stuck closely to his head and his face.

The tracksuit he wore clung closely to his frame, outlining his fairly muscular build.

His chest heaved heavily, but he did his best to breathe only through his nose, making sure to keep his mouth closed by biting hard on his lower lip.

His dopey hazel eyes locked on to the younger woman as soon as she stepped out of the morgue. Seeing her seemed to have filled him with some sort of relief.

Mrs. Milian scowled at the sight of the man. She could not believe the audacity of him to follow them here, on today of all days.

She made her way to reprimand his deplorable behavior, but her daughter held her wrist. The young woman shook her head at her mother.

“I’ll take care of it,” she said.

The older woman scrunched her lips in contemplation. Finally, she let out an exasperated sigh before raising her umbrella.

“I’ll be waiting for you in the car. Don’t take too long,”

The young man rushed towards the brown-haired woman and embraced her.

Despite the dampness of his clothes, or maybe because of it, his body felt incredibly warm against hers.

The woman had to resist indulging in the comfort of his warmth and pushing him off her.

“What are you doing here, Malcolm?” she asked.

“What do you mean? I’m here to meet my fiancé before she makes a horrible mistake,”

“Don’t call me that. We aren’t engaged anymore,”

“The engagement was just a formality,” Malcolm rebutted before he grabbed her by her biceps.

“Just like this farce you’re about to go through! Come on, Cecila. You can’t tell me you don’t love me anymore,”

Cecila did her best not to meet his gaze. She tried her best to pry Malcolm’s hands off her, but to no avail.

“Let go of me,” she demanded.

“Not until you tell me you don’t love you anymore,” Malcolm insisted.

“Fine! I don’t love you! Is that what you want to hear?!”

Cecila could not bear to see the look on Malcolm’s face. His grip on her tightened as his face seemed to pale.

She would rather not be in his presence, not when she had done this to him. Cecila took out her umbrella and hid her face behind it.

“I hope we don’t have the misfortune of seeing each other again,”

As she left, Malcolm just stood there in the rain, watching her go. On his face he wore the despair of a broken heart, and maybe something more.

*

“They’re late,” an old man said as he looked at his watch.

The old man had a head full of grey hair and slight wrinkles on his forehead and under his eyes.

Aside from that, it was almost impossible to tell his age. He was well-built but not muscular, standing tall at six feet.

He was dressed in a well-tailored Italian suit with crocodile leather shoes, which clopped loudly on the porcelain floors.

“Maybe we should take that as a sign this isn’t worth it,” a young man piped up.

The young man was a spitting image of the old man at a younger age.

His jet-black hair was slightly tousled, with several loose strands hanging over his bright blue eyes.

Unlike his clean-shaven father, he wore a thin beard, with his hair getting denser around his upper lip and chin.

He wore a similarly styled suit to the older man, except his was navy blue. Lounging on a black leather chair, he wore a look of disregard on his face.

“Be serious,” the old man chided.

“I am being serious,” the young man replied.

“They clearly don’t respect you or your time, so why should we bother with going through with this marriage?”

The old man stopped his pacing before turning to face his son.

He wore a stern look on his face that made the younger man’s skin crawl, but he did his best not to show his discomfort.

“I thought we had gotten past stupid talk like this?” he frowned.

“The sooner you become comfortable with the fact you will be marrying Cecila Milian, the better. And I don’t expect to have to remind you to behave appropriately when our guests arrive.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a curt knock. The door creaked open enough for a woman to poke her head through.

“Mr. Costance, Mrs. and Miss Milian have arrived,” she announced.

“Splendid. Let them in,” the old man said.

The woman’s head retreated behind the door. Shortly after, it swung open, and two women dressed in black walked into the room.

Mr. Constance smiled as he approached the women. He took the older woman’s hand and brought it to his lips as a courtesy.

“I’m so glad you’ve arrived,” he smiled.

“Thank you.” Mrs. Milian replied, giving a slight bow.

“I hope you’ll forgive our tardiness. Today was the memorial for my late husband’s death.”

“It’s no issue at all. Come, Luka! Won’t you welcome our guests?”

The young man stood up from his seat and approached the three.

Cecila could see his disinterest clear as day, and she could not help but resonate with it.

Had it been up to her, she would not have even stepped within ten feet of the place.

However, this was not something that depended on her will and whims, and for that reason, she was more than willing to sacrifice herself.

“It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance,” she greeted with a bow.

“Likewise,” the man muttered out with a roll of his eyes.

Luka did his best to ignore his father’s death stare. He had already accepted the fact that he was going to be a tool for his father’s political ambitions.

That did not mean he was going to pretend he was happy about it.

“How have your preparations for the upcoming primaries been? I heard you were planning to run for governor next year?” Mrs. Milian inquired.

“Oh, those have been going quite swimmingly! I’ll soon have everything in place to run without issue,”

“Like this marriage for one,” Luka whispered to himself.

“What was that?” Mrs Milian asked.

“Oh, don’t mind him!” Mr Constance smiled widely as he slapped his son on the back, causing him to wince.

“He has a bit of an issue with his throat,”

Luka straightened his back and tried to step away from his father. The older Constance grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back.

The two exchanged no words, but the message was clear: act accordingly or be dealt with accordingly.

Mr. Constance turned his attention back to the two Milians, who had stood awkwardly watching the display between father and son.

He quickly returned to his smiling face and beckoned towards the door.

“Well, we shouldn’t delay any further,” he said.

“Let’s head to the registry and officialize the joining of our families!”

“Sure, but if you will, could I get a few minutes to talk to my daughter while she’s still a single woman?”

“Of course,” Mr Constance looked back at his son. “I might as well take the opportunity to address my son’s ‘throat issue.’ If you’ll excuse us.”

The two men stepped out of the room, leaving the women to themselves.

As soon as they were gone, tears began to stream down the side of her face.

She pulled out a handkerchief from her purse and dried her face, but her efforts were in vain. Almost instantly, her cheeks were wet again with salty tears.

“Mom?!” Cecila exclaimed. “What’s wrong?" Why are you crying?!”

“Why wouldn’t I cry?” said Mrs. Milian sobbed.

“Today, five years ago, I lost my husband, and now on this same damned day, I’m losing my daughter!”

Cecila’s heart sank at her mother’s words. It was as though she had been pulled back in time to the very same day, five years ago.

Neither of them had been there to witness the accident, but the gore of the aftermath was fresh in her mind.

She could not even recognize the corpse that was once her father, who laid in a still pool of his blood. Just thinking about it made her stomach churn.

“I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry you have to do this for the sake of our family! If only your father were still with us…”

“Don’t worry, Mum,” Cecila assured with a smile.

“If it’s to take care of you, I’ll do anything necessary, so please, stop crying,”

Mrs. Milian felt her heart break even more at her daughter’s smile. She ached to say something, but she could not bring herself to mutter even a word. She simply nodded in response and followed her daughter as the two left the room to meet the Constance's family.