Chapter Two — Adrian
1893 Words
The first thing Adrian Morales heard every Sunday morning was his mother’s voice.
“Adrian! Get up!”
He opened one eye.
He stared at the ceiling.
Then he pulled the blanket over his face.
“I’m awake.”
“You’ve been saying that for ten minutes!”
“I am awake, Mamá.”
“Then come downstairs!”
Adrian sighed.
Thirty-two years old.
Successful.
Independent.
A man who could walk into a boardroom filled with executives twice his age and have everyone listening within minutes.
A man who had built his own company from the ground up.
A man who had negotiated million-dollar contracts without blinking.
And yet, somehow, one sentence from his mother could still make him feel like he was sixteen again.
He got out of bed.
He dressed simply—a dark T-shirt, jeans, and a watch his father had given him several years ago.
He walked downstairs and immediately heard noise.
Lots of it.
His family was never quiet.
Never.
His younger siblings were arguing over something in the kitchen.
His father was watching football in the living room.
His mother was cooking.
Two of his cousins were sitting at the dining table.
Someone’s child was running through the hallway.
Another relative had apparently decided to visit without calling first.
Adrian stopped halfway down the stairs.
He smiled.
This.
This was home.
His family wasn’t perfect.
They were loud.
Nosy.
Overprotective.
Sometimes dramatic.
Everyone had an opinion about everything.
But they were his.
And Adrian wouldn’t trade them for anything.
“Look who finally decided to come downstairs,” his younger sister called.
Adrian raised an eyebrow.
“I was sleeping.”
“You’re always sleeping.”
“I work.”
“You’re thirty-two, not eighty.”
His younger brother laughed.
Adrian walked into the kitchen and kissed his mother’s cheek.
“Good morning, Mamá.”
His mother’s expression immediately softened.
“Good morning, mijo.”
She touched his face.
“You’re too thin.”
Adrian stared at her.
“Mamá.”
“You are.”
“I eat.”
“When?”
“Every day.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He laughed quietly.
His mother pushed a plate toward him.
“Eat.”
Adrian obeyed.
He always did.
His mother had raised him that way.
Family first.
Respect your elders.
Remember where you came from.
Work hard.
Help when you can.
Never be ashamed of your roots.
His parents had immigrated to the country with very little.
They had worked jobs nobody wanted.
They had sacrificed.
They had struggled.
And somehow, they built a home filled with love.
Adrian had watched his parents work themselves exhausted so their children could have opportunities they never had.
That stayed with him.
It was one of the reasons he worked so hard.
He hadn’t inherited his success.
He had earned it.
Every contract.
Every investment.
Every company.
Every property.
He had built his wealth with his own hands.
And when he became successful, he didn’t forget the people who had helped him get there.
His parents were comfortable now.
His siblings had opportunities.
Family members who needed help could call him.
Adrian had paid university fees.
Helped with businesses.
Bought his parents their house.
Made sure his younger siblings never had to wonder whether they could afford something important.
He didn’t do it for praise.
He did it because they were family.
It was simply how he had been raised.
“You’re quiet today,” his father said.
Adrian looked toward him.
“Just thinking.”
“About work?”
“Always.”
His father shook his head.
“That’s your problem.”
Adrian smiled.
“Probably.”
His mother suddenly pointed a spoon at him.
“And you’re thirty-two.”
Adrian immediately knew where this was going.
“Mamá.”
“You need a wife.”
There it was.
His siblings started laughing.
Adrian slowly put down his fork.
“I knew this was coming.”
His mother ignored him.
“You work all the time. You come home. You eat. You sleep. You work again.”
“I have a life.”
“Where?”
His sister nearly choked laughing.
Adrian gave her a look.
She immediately looked away.
His mother continued.
“You’re a good man. You have a good heart. You’re responsible. You would make a very good husband.”
Adrian rubbed his forehead.
“Mamá, please.”
“What’s wrong with dating?”
“Nothing.”
“Then date.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Why?”
He didn’t have an answer.
At least, not one he could explain.
He had dated.
Twice, seriously.
Neither relationship had worked.
The first woman had loved what Adrian could provide more than she loved him.
The second had been different.
She had been kind.
Beautiful.
Smart.
Everything should have worked.
But something inside Adrian had remained strangely unmoved.
He had cared about her.
But he hadn’t felt that certainty.
That pull.
That feeling everyone described.
The feeling that made you look at someone and somehow know.
He had never experienced it.
And yet…
For as long as he could remember, Adrian had carried a strange feeling inside him.
As if someone was missing.
Someone he hadn’t met yet.
It was ridiculous.
He knew that.
He was thirty-two years old.
A successful businessman.
A rational man.
He believed in facts.
Contracts.
Hard work.
Planning.
Not fate.
Not soulmates.
Not some imaginary person waiting somewhere in the world specifically for him.
And yet, sometimes, late at night, he would find himself wondering.
Where are you?
He had never told anyone that.
Not even his closest sibling.
His mother watched him carefully.
“You don’t have to marry tomorrow,” she said more softly.
Adrian looked at her.
“I know.”
“You just need to let someone into your life.”
He smiled faintly.
“Maybe someday.”
His mother narrowed her eyes.
“You always say someday.”
“Because someday sounds better than never.”
His father laughed from the living room.
“Your mother will find you a wife herself.”
“I know.”
His mother looked pleased.
“I already have possibilities.”
Adrian nearly dropped his fork.
“Mamá.”
Everyone burst out laughing.
He shook his head.
“This family is unbelievable.”
His mother kissed his forehead.
“And you love us.”
Adrian smiled.
“With all my heart.”
And he meant it.
⸻
By Monday morning, Adrian was a completely different man.
The warmth disappeared.
The smile disappeared.
The family man became the businessman.
He walked into his office wearing a perfectly fitted charcoal suit, his expression serious.
His assistant immediately stood.
“Good morning, Mr. Morales.”
“Morning.”
“The investors are waiting.”
“Conference room?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s go.”
Adrian walked into the room.
Six executives were already seated around the table.
They stopped talking.
Adrian sat at the head.
“Good morning.”
Everyone greeted him.
He opened the folder in front of him.
“I reviewed the proposal.”
Silence.
“I don’t like it.”
One of the executives shifted.
“Sir, may I explain—”
“No.”
Adrian looked up.
His voice wasn’t loud.
It didn’t need to be.
“You had three weeks to prepare this proposal. The numbers don’t work. The projected return is inflated. And the risk assessment is incomplete.”
The executive swallowed.
Adrian closed the folder.
“I’m not investing money based on hope.”
Nobody spoke.
“Fix it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Adrian stood.
“Meeting over.”
That was Adrian Morales.
Serious.
Demanding.
Hard when he needed to be.
He expected excellence because he demanded it from himself first.
But there was another side of him.
The side people saw at charity events.
The side that quietly donated money without wanting his name announced.
The side that supported organizations helping immigrant families.
The side that funded scholarships for young people whose parents couldn’t afford university.
He understood what it meant to start with nothing.
He understood what his parents had sacrificed.
And he refused to forget.
That evening, Adrian attended a charity gala.
Cameras flashed as he entered.
People approached him.
Investors.
Business owners.
Politicians.
Charity directors.
Adrian shook hands, smiled politely, and spoke when necessary.
He was charming when he wanted to be.
But he never stayed longer than necessary.
He hated superficial conversations.
He hated people pretending to care.
And he especially hated when someone only approached him because of his money.
After nearly two hours, Adrian stepped outside onto the balcony.
The city stretched beneath him.
He loosened his tie.
Finally.
Silence.
He pulled his phone from his pocket.
There were seven messages from his mother.
One from his sister.
Two from his younger brother.
A photograph of his niece.
Adrian smiled immediately.
He opened the picture.
His niece was wearing a ridiculous pink dress and making a face at the camera.
He laughed under his breath.
His phone rang.
“Mamá.”
“Are you eating?”
Adrian closed his eyes.
“Why is that always your first question?”
“Because you forget.”
“I ate.”
“What did you eat?”
“Food.”
“Adrian.”
He laughed.
“I’m at a gala.”
“You’re probably drinking instead of eating.”
“I don’t drink much.”
“Good.”
There was a pause.
Then his mother said quietly,
“Are you happy?”
Adrian’s smile faded.
He looked at the city.
“I think so.”
“You think?”
He didn’t answer.
His mother sighed.
“Mijo.”
“I’m okay.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Adrian leaned against the balcony railing.
His mother’s voice softened.
“You have everything you worked for.”
“I know.”
“A good career. Money. Your family.”
“I know.”
“But you’re still waiting.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
He hated how well she knew him.
“Waiting for what?”
“You tell me.”
He looked into the darkness.
For a moment, he thought about that strange feeling again.
That invisible person.
That impossible certainty.
Someone he had never met.
Someone he couldn’t even describe.
Someone he felt, somehow, was coming.
“I don’t know, Mamá.”
“Yes, you do.”
Adrian smiled sadly.
“Maybe I’m just crazy.”
“You’re not crazy.”
“Then what am I?”
“Waiting.”
The call ended shortly afterward.
Adrian remained outside.
The night air was cool against his face.
He looked up at the stars.
He didn’t believe in fate.
At least, that was what he told himself.
But somewhere deep inside him, something whispered that his life was about to change.
He just didn’t know how.
Or who would change it.
And Adrian had no idea that, somewhere across the city, a man with soft gray eyes was sitting awake in a dark bedroom, fighting another nightmare.
A man who had built walls so high that nobody had ever managed to climb them.
A man who had convinced himself he would never love again.
Cassian Valerian.
Adrian had never heard his name.
Not yet.
But that was about to change.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD