Episode 11-Arrival
643 Words
In a quiet, well-decorated sitting room, a graceful woman in her mid-fifties stood by that tall window, sunlight spilling across the hardwood floor. Though time had touched her features, there was an elegance in the way she carried herself-composed, calm, and thoughtful.
Her phone rang on the table beside her. She picked it up quickly, already expecting the call.
"Son?" she said softly, her voice warm.
"Yes mom, I just landed," came the young man's voice, smooth and familiar.
She smiled, her eyes still scanning the horizon outside. "Do you need me to send a driver to the airport?"
"No, I'll manage," he replied casually.
"Are you coming straight home?"
There was a pause on the line. "Not yet. I'd like to settle in first. I'll stop by after I've taken care of a few things."
Her smile faltered just slightly, but her tone remained gentle. "Alright. Just don't disappear again. It's been a while."
"I won't. I'll reach out when I'm ready."
She nodded to herself, even though he couldn't see it. "You know you're always welcome here. "This house may not be your first home, but it's still yours."
A short pause. "Thanks mom.... I know."
With a soft sigh, she ended the call and placed the phone down. She turned from the window, her gaze lingering for a moment on an old framed photo resting on a nearby shelf--two boys, one hers by birth, the other by choice.
Though only one carried her blood, she had poured love into them both.
She murmured quietly, more to herself than anyone else, "You're back--for more than just a visit. I can feel it."
Scene Two: "Tension and Silence"
The elegant woman placed her phone gently on the console table and walked toward the living room, her heels making soft clicks against the polished floor. The room was grand yet understated--muted tones, classic furniture, and the scent of fresh lilies lingering in the air.
Her husband, a man in his early sixties with sharp eyes and a commanding presence, sat in a high-backed armchair, a newspaper spread across his lap. Without looking up, he asked, "So, he's back?"
She lowered herself onto the couch across from him, her expression pensive. "Yes... I just spoke with him. He said he "wanted to settle in before coming home."
He turned a page lazily. "Did you expect him to come running back here after all this time?"
She sighed. "That's not why I'm here." I wanted to ask--have you have gotten in touch with him?'
He finally looked up, his gaze calm but tinged with irritation. "You told me to stop monitoring him. That I should give him space. Now you want updates?"
She sat up straighter, her voice quiet but firm. "I know what I said." But I just... I need to know how he's doing,"
He raised a brow, folding the paper. "Then call him."
"You know he doesn't pick up our calls anymore," she said softly, the frustration barely masked behind her concern.
He chuckled under his breath and shook his head. "You see now? The boy is a mirror of your choices."
She stiffened. "I raised him well."
"But you--" he started, but she cut in, her voice sharper this time, "but you kept pushing, controlling everything... What did you expect him to become?"
Just as the tension spiked, a quiet knock came at the door.
"Sir, Ma'am," the maid said gently, stepping in with a small bow. "Dinner is ready."
The woman looked away from her husband, smoothing the invisible crease in her skirt. "Thank you, Miriam."
Without another word, she stood, her husband doing the same with a heavy sigh. The silence between them said more than their argument had.
As they headed towards the dining room, their footsteps echoed through the hall, the air thick with words left unsaid.
- Writer
