Fated Hearts

~chap 3~

It had been years since I’d stepped foot in my parents' house, and frankly, I didn’t think I’d ever return. But there I was, standing at the door of the house I grew up in, about to face a reality I wasn’t sure I was ready for. I couldn’t even recall the last time I’d seen them—not that they had tried to keep in touch.

It had been months since I’d spoken to my parents, ever since I’d followed my dreams of going to college and building a life for myself, something they had been totally against. They were old-fashioned, bound by expectations and the rules of their world. The idea of me studying and pursuing a career in art and design was a betrayal to them—a choice they could never support.

I had imagined this visit a hundred times, and every time it felt just as heavy. I didn’t want to see them again, didn’t want to face the coldness that had defined our relationship for so long, but Eric had insisted. He thought it would be “good for me,” as if I needed closure or something. Maybe it was just his way of pushing me to fix the broken parts of my life that had nothing to do with him.

As soon as I walked through the door, the familiar scent of pine and old wood hit me. The house was quiet, eerily quiet, like it always had been when my parents were upset with me. My father was in the living room, watching the news, as usual. He didn’t look up as I entered, didn’t even acknowledge my presence. My mother, on the other hand, was in the kitchen, her back to me as she stirred something in a pot.

“Mom,” I said softly, trying to make my voice sound less like a stranger’s.

She didn’t answer. The silence stretched on, thick and uncomfortable.

“Mom?” I tried again, my voice coming out sharper this time.

She turned, her eyes meeting mine with the coldness I had come to expect. “Oh, you’re here,” she said, her tone flat.

There was no hug, no warmth, no sign that I was welcome. She went back to what she was doing without another word, and I stood there, unsure of how to proceed. My father, still glued to the TV, finally muttered something under his breath, barely audible.

“Should have known you'd come back, after all these years.”

I froze, my heart sinking. My father wasn’t one to hide his thoughts, but his words stung. He never had understood me, never believed in my dreams. I felt the familiar wave of resentment rise within me, but I swallowed it down, choosing to stay quiet.

Instead, I turned toward my younger brother, Mark, who had just walked into the living room. Mark was always the one who had been my safe haven in this house. He was the only person who ever treated me like I was someone important. As soon as he saw me, he broke into a smile.

“Hey, Laura! Long time no see!” Mark said, enveloping me in a hug. It was brief, but it was the kind of welcome I hadn’t expected, the kind that made me feel like I wasn’t just an afterthought in this cold house. “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you too,” I replied, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

Mark had always been the easygoing one, the one who understood me even when no one else did. He didn’t care about the rules, about following the same old traditions. He was the one person who had supported my decision to go to college and follow my passion for design.

My mother and father continued to ignore us as Mark and I sat down to talk. I told him about my life, my work, the projects I had been handling, how things were with Eric. Mark listened attentively, asking the right questions. For a brief moment, I felt like the old Laura again—the one who felt loved and understood.

But then, the conversation shifted. My mother cleared her throat, standing in the doorway with an expression that could cut glass.

“You’re still with that... man, I see.” Her words were like daggers.

I froze, unsure of how to respond. My mother had never liked Eric. She had always seen him as a threat, a man who had lured me away from the family, a man who wasn’t good enough for me. But this was the first time she’d ever said anything so openly hostile about him.

“Yes, Mom, I’m still with him,” I said, my voice quieter than I’d intended.

“Typical,” she muttered under her breath, before turning away. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be off again soon, won’t you?”

“Mom, I’m not—” I started, but she cut me off before I could finish.

“I don’t want to hear it, Laura,” she snapped, her voice growing sharper. “You’ve made your choices. We’ve made ours. It’s obvious you don’t belong here.”

Her words were like a slap across the face, and before I could stop myself, my eyes filled with tears. This was exactly why I’d stayed away. The constant feeling of being unwanted, unappreciated. The truth was, I didn’t belong here anymore.

I stood up abruptly, needing to leave before I broke down in front of them. Mark, who had been watching the exchange with unease, stood up too.

“Let’s go out for a bit,” he said, trying to ease the tension. “I’ll take you to a café. Get away from all this for a while.”

I nodded silently, and we left the house. For the first time in hours, I felt a little bit of peace.

After spending a few more hours with Mark, catching up, and getting some fresh air, I finally made my way home. As soon as I entered the apartment, I was hit with the excitement of what was next. Eric had planned a trip for us—a getaway to clear our heads, to leave everything behind and just enjoy each other’s company.

I went straight to the bedroom, throwing my things aside and pulling out my suitcase. I hadn’t been this excited in a while. Eric had gone ahead for business, and I was to meet him at our destination. I couldn’t wait to get there, to finally be in a place where I could start fresh. No parents, no obligations—just me and Eric.

As I packed, I could feel the joy bubbling inside me. The last few weeks had been rough, but now, I truly felt like I was getting my life back on track.

The flight felt like an eternity, but finally, I arrived at the airport. I made my way to the hotel, eager to settle in and see Eric. When I arrived at the lobby, the place looked luxurious—an opulent mixture of modern style and old-world charm. I waited for my room key at the lounge bar, sipping on a cocktail and letting the quiet hum of the crowd calm my nerves.

That’s when I saw him.

A small crowd of women—young women in tight dresses and heels—stood around a tall, elegant man. He was easily noticeable, his stature commanding, the tailored black suit he wore almost glowing under the hotel lights. He moved with an air of arrogance, like he knew he was important. His green eyes met mine across the room, and I froze.

I choked on my cocktail, sputtering as I quickly covered my mouth, embarrassed by my own reaction. I hadn’t expected to be so affected by his gaze, but something about him made my heart race. For a moment, I couldn’t look away, and neither could he. He didn’t smile, didn’t acknowledge the moment, but his eyes locked with mine in a way that felt... intense. Almost as if he knew me.

Then, with a slight, almost imperceptible smirk, he turned and continued on his way, ignoring me completely.

I sat there, still trying to regain my composure, my mind racing. Who was that man? Why had he looked at me like that?

The rest of the night went by in a blur. I called Maddie, needing to talk, needing to hear her voice. She wasn’t happy about me still being with Eric, let alone thinking about marrying him. But I was blind to her concerns. I couldn’t see the things she saw.

I went shopping afterward, buying a few new clothes, including a bikini and some lingerie, hoping to surprise Eric. I had every intention of making this trip perfect, showing him how much I loved him. After all, he was my future.

Later, I went to the hotel’s pool, taking in the beautiful sun and the refreshing air. As I settled by the edge of the pool, the same man appeared again, making eye contact with me once more. This time, his gaze didn’t waver. He didn’t look away. Instead, he watched me until I left.

Something about him intrigued me. I didn’t understand it, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that our paths had crossed for a reason.

That evening, Eric returned, and we spent the night together, talking about our anniversary the next day. We made out on the couch, forgetting about everything else. He told me about a bachelorette party he’d arranged for me, since I had no friends here. I was touched by the gesture, a reminder that despite everything, he still cared for me.

As we slept, I felt like everything was falling into place. I had everything I wanted—a future with Eric, a wedding to look forward to, and the hope that maybe, just maybe, things would finally work out.

But as I closed my eyes, I couldn’t help but wonder about the man at the bar—the man with importance written all over his face. What was it about him that left such a strange, lingering feeling in my chest?