His to Ruin

Pancake Breakfast & Secret Garden

Night fell, thick with an almost suffocating silence.

My new room was at the far end of Alec’s east wing,.

Too far from his main bedroom. Too distant. Too unfamiliar. The ceiling was high, with classical carvings. A chandelier hung still above me, casting soft shadows on the beige walls.

I lay on the oversized bed, the mattress too soft, a warm blanket wrapped around me, but the warmth never quite reached.

I stared at the ceiling for too long.

An hour. Two. I lost count when the ticking of the clock on the nightstand started sounding like a knife slicing through the air, over and over again.

I sat up and walked slowly to the vanity. I opened a small drawer in the corner and found the white bottle I always carried. No label, no name.

One pill. My tongue was used to its bitterness. I sipped some water from the glass near the bed.

But my body knew.

One wasn’t enough tonight.

I took another, then slipped out of the room.

The hallway greeted me with darkness. Dim wall lights flickered here and there, casting long shadows that swayed as I passed.

This house was like a palace out of a nightmare. Too big, too quiet.

Abraham’s room was in the south wing, not far from the library. Alec had prepared it himself. With toys, a mini bookshelf, even a little globe.

I pushed the door open gently.

Inside, the soft sound of breathing came from the small bed in the corner.

Abraham was fast asleep. One of his small arms was wrapped tightly around the lion-shaped pillow I got him for his fourth birthday.

I stood in the doorway for a while, just watching him.

My breathing began to slow. My body didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

I stepped inside, quietly closing the door behind me. Crossing the warm wooden floor, I sat down at the edge of his bed.

I gently ran my fingers through his messy black hair.

He stirred a little, one eye cracking open. “Mommy?”

His voice felt like a hug.

I nodded, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Yeah, baby. Mommy’s here.”

Without a word, Abraham lifted his blanket and made room beside him.

He shifted his tiny body over, one arm reaching out, and just like that, I laid down next to him. He hugged me with his tiny arm like he already knew exactly how I fit.

I took a deep breath, and for the first time tonight, for the first time in a long while, my chest felt a little bit lighter.

There was no ticking clock here.

No chandelier, no strange shadows.

Just Abraham’s gentle breathing.

And the way his little embrace made the world outside this room feel a little less terrifying.

:::

Sunlight pierced through the gap in the curtains as I opened my eyes.

It took me a second to realize I was still in Abraham’s room, the bed felt smaller now, but somehow far more comforting than the big, empty one in mine.

But Abraham was gone.

His blanket was neatly folded, his pillow no longer warm.

I shot up, the panic in my throat quickly choking out any remnants of sleep.

I grabbed a sweater from the edge of the bed and rushed out, my bare feet meeting the cold wood floor.

The hallway felt endless this morning.

I walked toward the main wing, the faint scent of coffee and toast drifting from somewhere ahead.

I heard voices before I saw them.

“…so if the bad guys come from the back door, does that mean this house has an alarm system?”

Abraham’s curious little voice.

I slowed my steps.

The dining room was wide open in front of me.

Sunlight poured through the tall windows, making the marble table look even whiter than usual.

Abraham sat on a high chair, his legs swinging above the floor, wearing a blue hoodie and shorts. In front of him, a cup of hot chocolate steamed gently, and his plate of pancakes was nearly gone.

At the end of the table, Alec sat casually, arms crossed, one corner of his mouth lifted.

“What if they come from the roof?” Abraham asked again, his eyes sparkling.

“Snipers,” Alec replied, his tone light, though I noticed the way his eyes subtly watched Abraham’s reaction. “But you don’t have to worry. This place is more secure than the president’s bunker.”

Abraham nodded seriously. “So, like a secret fortress?”

“Even better.” Alec leaned back in his chair, and finally, his gaze shifted toward me. “Morning, Daniella.”

Abraham turned too, his smile appearing instantly. “Mommy! Uncle Alec made pancakes!”

I stood a few steps from the doorway, my breath slowly dropping from my throat to my chest.

The world felt a little flipped. Alec Romano, in his own dining room, casually fielding a child’s questions about home security while serving breakfast.

“I… overslept,” I said, my voice small against the morning’s light and warmth.

Alec just shrugged. “You needed the rest.”

And for once, there was no sarcasm behind his words. No sharp edge hidden underneath.

Abraham raised his fork high. “Mommy, want some pancakes? Uncle made a lot. But no fighting, okay? He only knows how to make two flavors.”

I smiled, walking slowly toward them. “Two flavors?”

“Vanilla and burnt,” Alec said, deadpan.

Abraham burst into laughter, the kind of laugh that lit up the room more than any sunlight ever could.

I pulled out the chair next to Abraham and sat down, letting the sunlight warm my cheek.

A plate of pancakes was already waiting for me. A messy little stack, one side darker than the other.

Abraham handed me the maple syrup like it had been his official duty all morning. “This one’s a little burnt,” he said confidently, “but it still tastes good.”

I poured a bit of syrup and glanced at Alec, who had leaned back in his chair again, his right hand slowly turning a coffee mug, those sharp eyes of his watching us without really touching.

“Since when do you know how to cook?” I asked, cutting into the pancakes slowly.

Alec didn’t answer right away. He shrugged, then took a sip of his coffee. “Since the microwave broke.”

Abraham giggled again. “He doesn’t even know the difference between baking soda and baking powder,” he whispered in my ear like he was spilling state secrets.

I held back a smile and chewed my first bite of pancake.

It was… surprisingly decent. Sweet, a little too crispy on the edges, but not nearly as bad as I’d imagined.

“I was looking for you earlier,” I said quietly to Abraham. “You left without waking me, Abby.”

Abraham looked at me with a guilty kind of innocence. “I woke up and Uncle Alec said let’s go downstairs. He said you were still dreaming about unicorns.”

“You were talking in your sleep last night.” Alec chimed in without lifting his gaze from his mug.

I stopped chewing. “What?”

“Purple unicorns. And pizza.” He finally looked at me, one eyebrow raised in that deadpan way of his. “Quite entertaining.”

My face burned. “You came into my room and watched me sleep?”

“I walked by,” he said casually. “Coincidence.”

Abraham waved his hand, pulling the attention back. “Then I asked Uncle about this house. ‘Cause it’s super big. Like a superhero base.”

“Are there secret rooms?” Abraham asked between sips of hot chocolate. “And a secret garden?”

Alec tilted his head, suddenly looking thoughtful. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret anymore.”

Abraham considered that seriously. “So… there is.”

Alec’s smile thinned, but didn’t disappear. “Smart kid.”

I looked at Abraham, then at Alec. And somehow, this whole scene didn’t feel real....

A syrup-covered little boy, a dangerous man sipping coffee, and me, right in the middle of it, feeling… not out of place.

Abraham jumped down from his chair. “I’m gonna explore! You said there’s a secret garden. I’m gonna find it!”

Before I could say anything, the boy had already disappeared toward the side door, his footsteps light and joyful.

I leaned back in my chair and let out a long breath.

For a few moments, neither of us said anything.

“He likes me. And he’s not afraid of me. Not even a little.” He said.

I turned to look at him. “He doesn’t know who you are. Or how terrifying you can be, Alec.”

That gaze of his locked onto mine.

“Should he?”