Captured by: Love Or Hatred?

HOME

Chapter 6: HOME

.

.

.

Jennifer's POV:

.

.

.

.

.

.

" Hmm… "

I exhale slowly, letting out a long breath I didn’t realize I had been holding, then inhale again— deep and steady— until my lungs fill completely with the cool, salty night air.

" So damn relaxing. "

The words slip out softly as I let myself sink into the moment, my gaze drifting over the dark ocean where the waves roll in endlessly, rising and falling under the faint shimmer of moonlight.

The water brushes against my feet again— cold, gentle, almost teasing—as if trying to pull me a little deeper, a little farther away from everything waiting on land.

The sand beneath my feet shifts with every step, soft and damp, grounding me in a way nothing else has all day.

Peaceful.

Too peaceful.

I watch the way the light trembles over the surface of the water, breaking and reforming with every movement, hypnotic enough to make me forget time entirely, to make me forget the noise, the pressure, the endless rush of everything I’ve been running through since morning.

For a moment— it feels like I can finally breathe.

I drag the last puff of my cigarette, the faint glow flickering in the darkness before fading out completely.

Slowly, I step back, letting the waves slip away from my feet as I begin walking out of the water, the coolness fading with every step, replaced by the quiet weight of reality settling back in.

' Time to go home. '

The thought comes reluctantly, like something I’d rather ignore, but can’t.

My phone buzzes faintly in my memory— Ben’s call from earlier, his voice laced with that familiar concern I know too well.

I told him I was busy with work. And technically… I wasn’t lying.

Work had stretched longer than usual today, draining every ounce of energy out of me, leaving me with nothing but this need to escape, even if just for a little while.

That’s why I came here.

Late.

Too late for crowds, too late for noise— just me, the ocean, and the kind of silence that doesn’t ask questions.

A quiet rebellion.

Or maybe just… a pause.

I wrap my arms loosely around myself as the breeze picks up slightly, brushing against my damp skin, sending a faint shiver down my spine.

Behind me, the waves continue their endless rhythm.

Unaffected.

Unbothered.

Just like they always are.

I take one last glance at the ocean before turning away, the faint pull in my chest lingering a second longer than it should.

Taking my shoes in one hand, I head toward the dimly lit path leading to my parked car.

Before getting in, I toss the butt of my cigarette into the nearest trash bin, watching it disappear without a second thought.

I slide into the driver’s seat, the familiar scent of leather and faint lavender filling the space, grounding me instantly. My shoes land under the passenger seat with a careless shove as I lean back for a second, exhaling softly.

" Damn! I want to stay a little longer. "

Still, I grab the mouth freshener from the side compartment, spraying a quick burst into my mouth and a light mist over myself, just enough to mask the lingering scent of smoke.

Ben would notice. He always does.

" Broom… broom… "

The engine roars to life beneath my hands, smooth, powerful, responsive— the way I like it.

A small smile curves on my lips.

Now this… this is my kind of therapy.

I press down on the pedal and pull out onto the empty road, the tires gliding over the asphalt before gripping harder as I pick up speed.

The city at this hour is almost mine— fewer cars, fewer rules, fewer eyes.

Perfect.

I lower the window, letting the night air rush in, cool and wild, instantly tangling through my hair as it whips around my face.

I push it back carelessly, one hand on the wheel, the other slipping out of the window, fingers cutting through the air as if I could hold onto the freedom it carries.

" God… I missed this. "

The road curves ahead, and instinct takes over.

No hesitation.

No overthinking.

Just movement.

I shift slightly, easing into the turn before pushing the car harder, letting the tires slide just enough— a clean, controlled drift that sends a thrill straight through my veins. The car responds like it knows me, like it trusts me, like it’s part of me.

A laugh escapes my lips.

Unfiltered.

Alive.

He taught me well.

Marcus taught me how to drive like this— how to trust the wheel, how to feel the road instead of just following it, how to let instinct take over without second-guessing every move, like the car and I were part of the same rhythm.

Not the love part. That was never something either of us got right.

But this?

This stayed.

The speed.

The control.

The precision.

For a few minutes— it’s just me, the road, and the night.

No expectations.

No questions.

Just movement.

Just freedom.

Eventually, the familiar streets begin to appear, the speed easing naturally as I near home, the thrill settling back into calm, like a storm that knows when to quiet down.

I pull into the driveway, parking my car neatly beside Ben’s, the engine dying down into silence.

And just like that— reality returns.

" Hmm… "

I step out, the cool ground brushing against my bare feet, grains of sand still clinging stubbornly to my skin.

Moving toward the small tap near the parking area, I turn it on and wash my feet, the cold water running over them, carrying away the last traces of the beach.

A quiet ritual.

I shake off the water, grab my shoes, and glance toward the house for a brief second.

Lights on.

A small, familiar warmth settles somewhere in my chest as I head inside, pushing the door open quietly, the soft glow of the kitchen light spilling into the hallway, carrying with it the comforting aroma of food— warm, rich, unmistakably home.

And there he is.

Ben stands by the stove, sleeves rolled up neatly, one hand stirring something in the pan while the other rests on the counter, his posture relaxed but focused in that way he always is when he’s cooking, like it’s less of a task and more of a responsibility he takes seriously.

I walk toward him, leaning lightly against the counter.

" What’s today’s special? " I ask, peeking into the pan with curiosity.

" Oh… you’re back, " Ben says, clearly a little surprised as he turns slightly, having not noticed me enter, his attention still half on the food.

" So how was your day? " Ben ask

" As usual- not much drama, since James is not around. " I reply casually, brushing my hair back from my face as I glance around the kitchen, keeping my tone light even though the day had been anything but ordinary.

" So… what are you making? " I ask, leaning slightly against the counter, curiosity slipping into my voice as I glance toward the pan.

" Nothing special, " He continues, stirring again, " just thought I’d make more of your favorite dish… since while I’m gone, you’re probably going to starve yourself to death. "

I scoff immediately, straightening up with mock offense.

" Oh, come on… my cooking is just fine, okay? " I retaliate, crossing my arms.

' No, it’s not. ' My subconscious whispers instantly.

I ignore it.

Ben gives me a look— one of those knowing, unimpressed looks that says he doesn’t even need to argue because the truth is already obvious.

" Go freshen up and change first, " He says, nodding toward the hallway without missing a beat, " then come back and help me chop these vegetables. "

Commanding.

As always.

" Aye aye, captain, " I reply, giving him a lazy salute before turning to leave.

But as I walk away, I can’t help the small smile that lingers on my lips.

Because no matter how much I complain— this?

This is my favorite part of the day.

.

.

.

" Ding... "

Just as I’m about to place my foot on the first step leading upstairs— to my bedroom, the doorbell cuts through the quiet of the house.

I freeze mid-step.

Before I can move again, Ben’s voice carries from the kitchen, calm but certain— " Jenn, I think that’s your call. "

Of course it is.

I let out a small breath, turning around as I jog toward the door, my steps quick but light, as I reach for the handle and pull it open without a second thought.

Aunt Marina stands there.

" Well, would you look at that, " I say, genuinely surprised, leaning slightly against the doorframe. " A lovely surprise from a lovely lady. "

She chuckles softly. " Hello, dear. Did I disturb you at this hour? "

" Oh, please, " I say with a small laugh. " How could a beautiful woman like you ever disturb us? "

I gesture inside with a playful tilt of my head.

" Come on in. "

She walks in, holding up a container.

" I made Lucas’s and your favorite dessert, " She says, her voice warm, " but unfortunately, he couldn’t make it to dinner tonight. "

My lips curve upward before I can stop them, the reaction automatic, after hearing about dessert.

" His loss, " I shrug instantly, taking the container from her and holding it like I’ve just won something. " More for me. "

She lets out a small laugh, shaking her head lightly. " Exactly what I thought. "

" You know me too well, " I say, already opening the lid just enough to peek inside, curiosity taking over before anything else.

For a moment, I’m too distracted to notice.

Then it registers.

A flicker in her expression. A pause that lasts just a second too long. Not quite sadness… something she quickly hides behind her usual smile.

Before I can think it through, I step forward and pull her into a hug.

" Lucas is always late, " I say softly, more casually than the gesture itself, as if it’s nothing unusual. " But why don’t you stay for dinner? "

She hesitates— and I already know why.

Lucas’s father was an army martyr. Since then, it’s always just been the two of them, building a life around absence, adjusting to a quiet that never really leaves.

Just like me and Ben.

Two people learning how to move forward without looking back too much.

Before she can come up with any unarguable excuse, I pull away and head straight toward the kitchen, not giving her enough time to refuse.

Ben is there, standing by the counter as he chops vegetables with steady precision.

I clear my throat, leaning slightly against the doorway before stepping in, already switching to my most innocent tone.

" Ahem… Ben? " I say sweetly, a little too sweetly while putting the dessert container into the fridge.

I swear, the sweetness from that dessert is somehow transferring into me. He doesn’t look up immediately.

" Could you make a little extra tonight? " I continue, folding my hands behind my back like I’m about to make a perfectly reasonable request. " We have a special guest. "

I stretch the word special on purpose.

Now he pauses.

The knife stills for just a second before he slowly looks up at me, one eyebrow lifting in silent suspicion.

Right on cue—

Aunt Marina steps in behind me.

" Jenny, I only came to drop off the dessert. You don’t need to bother. "

She’s the only one who calls me Jenny.

I shake my head firmly.

" No excuses, Aunt Marina. I’m not accepting any today— especially after how you fooled me last time. "

" No one needs to fool you, " He says calmly, " when you already are one. "

I blink. ' Excuse me? '

" Oh, " I mutter under my breath, folding my arms. " So now you’re making jokes about me just to impress her. "

I say it slowly, barely above a whisper, my lips moving more than my voice carries.

That, however, finally gets his attention. He looks at me— just one sharp glance.

A warning.

But me being me— I roll my eyes.

Before I can say anything else, Aunt Marina steps forward, her voice softer now, almost hesitant.

" Jenny, I really don’t want to be a bother. Please have your dinner. I’ve already cooked… and I’ll wait for Lucas. What if he comes a little late? "

Something tightens in my chest.

Not strong. Just enough.

' We both know that if Lucas is late… he might not come at all tonight. ' The thought sits there— quiet, uncomfortable, and a little too familiar.

" No, " I say bluntly, cutting her off before she can finish.

She stills for a moment—clearly startled—her expression shifting just enough to show she wasn’t expecting that from me.

" You’re not waiting for that unapologetically unconcerned person, " I add, my tone firm but steady.

" We’re all having dinner together. That’s final. "

Before she can protest again, I step closer and wrap my arms around her from behind, resting my chin lightly on her shoulder like always.

" Right, Ben? "

Ben exhales slowly, the kind of sigh that carries both resignation and quiet acceptance, before nodding once.

" Yes, of course. You’re not a bother, Marina. "

" Alright, alright. It’s settled then—we’re having dinner together. "

Then, with a slight dramatic turn, I step back.

" Benjamin, let me help you, " Aunt Marina offers.

" There’s no need— " Ben starts, but she doesn’t wait for him to finish. She simply reaches for the knife, taking over the task with quiet ease, leaving him with no real choice but to step aside.

I smile to myself, a little more genuine than I expected.

" Just give me a few minutes, I’ll go freshen up. "

I don’t wait for a reply.

Because standing there, watching them— the quiet steadiness in Ben, the easy comfort in Aunt Marina— does something I don’t quite want to sit with for too long.

It’s subtle, almost unnoticeable, but it settles somewhere deep, somewhere I usually avoid looking at.

A strange mix of comfort… and something else.

Something that almost aches.

Like catching a glimpse of a life that could have existed— simple, steady, shared— if things had turned out differently, if time had been a little kinder, if loss hadn’t shaped everything the way it did.

The thought lingers just enough to feel real.

Too real.

So I look away before it can stay any longer.

Turning toward the staircase, I move quickly, my steps light but purposeful, putting distance between myself and that moment.

Some moments aren’t meant to be interrupted.

They’re meant to breathe.

And sometimes— the best thing you can do is step away and let them.

.....

....

...

..

.