Episode nine
1257 Words
The car rolled smoothly into the private garage of the villa, the engine humming softly before going silent. The space was wide and spotless, polished floors reflecting the sleek frame of the vehicle like a mirror. The door swung open, and Andrew stepped out first, stretching his arms above his head with a satisfied groan.
“Ahhh,” he breathed. “Nothing like escaping traffic alive.”
He cracked his neck from side to side, rolling his shoulders as though shaking off the stiffness of the morning. Kylen stepped out from the other side of the car, composed as always, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve without a trace of fatigue on his face.
The contrast between them was striking.
Where Andrew moved loosely, carefree and expressive, Kylen was all sharp lines and restrained every movement deliberate, every expression carefully guarded. Without saying a word, Kylen walked toward the entrance of the villa. The door responded instantly to his fingerprint, unlocking with a soft click before sliding open.
Inside, the scent of food wrapped around them like a warm embrace.
Aunty Calina stood by the dining table, setting out dishes with practiced ease. Her movements were calm and motherly, her face relaxed in a way that spoke of comfort and familiarity. The table was already filled with plates, steaming bowls, neatly arranged cutlery, and glasses of freshly prepared juice catching the light.
Andrew’s eyes lit up.
Before Kylen could even speak, Andrew walked briskly toward her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders from behind.
“Aunty Calina!” he exclaimed. “It’s been forever!”
She laughed instantly, the sound warm and genuine, patting his arm. “Look at you,” she said fondly. “It’s been a while, kid.”
Andrew froze.
He slowly released her and stepped back, placing a hand dramatically on his chest. “Kid?” he repeated, pouting. “Excuse me, aunty. I am a fully grown man now. A very grown man.”
He spun slightly on the spot, spreading his arms as if presenting himself for inspection. “Can’t you see the upgrade?”
Aunty Calina burst into laughter, shaking her head. “You and your silly ways,” she said. “Up till now, nothing has changed.”
Kylen cleared his throat softly.
Both of them turned to look at him, as though remembering his presence.
“Sit,” Kylen said calmly. “Before the food gets cold.”
Aunty Calina smiled and gestured toward the chairs. “Sit down, both of you. Let me serve you my delicacies. I’m sure you’ve missed them.”
Andrew didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled out a chair and sat down immediately. Kylen took his seat across from him, posture straight, eyes briefly scanning the table.
As Aunty Calina reached for the serving spoon, Kylen spoke again.
“Please,” he said, “call Mara down so we can have lunch together.”
Aunty Calina paused, then nodded gently. “Alright, young master.”
She wiped her hands lightly on her apron and headed toward the stairs.
Andrew watched her go, then turned to Kylen with a raised brow. “So,” he said slowly, “her name is Mara?”
Kylen gave a brief hum in response.
Andrew smirked. “Interesting.”
“Let’s eat first,” Kylen said flatly. “Before you start asking questions. That’s why you’re here anyway.”
Andrew shrugged and reached for the nearest plate, already serving himself. “I’m starving,” he muttered. “I didn’t eat anything serious this morning.”
Upstairs, the villa was quiet.
Aunty Calina knocked softly on Mara’s door. After a moment, a faint, muffled voice answered.
“Come in.”
She opened the door to find Mara lying on the bed, turned slightly away, her body curled inward. The room was neat, but it lacked warmth as though it hadn’t yet accepted its occupant.
“How are you doing, dear?” Aunty Calina asked gently.
Mara sat up slowly but didn’t answer. Her movements were careful, guarded.
Aunty Calina didn’t seem offended. She had seen this kind of silence before pain that didn’t yet have words.
“The young master said you should come down for lunch,” she said kindly.
Mara nodded.
Aunty Calina smiled softly and turned to leave, closing the door quietly behind her.
Mara stood up after a moment, smoothing the fabric of her gown with trembling fingers. She took a deep breath, then stepped out into the corridor. Her footsteps were light, hesitant, as though she wasn’t entirely sure she was allowed to exist here.
Downstairs, Andrew was already eating like a man rescued from a dungeon.
He had a chicken leg in one hand, soup dripping slightly down his elbow, his mouth full of vegetables as he chewed with enthusiasm.
“That’s it,” he mumbled. “I knew it. No one cooks like Aunty Calina.”
Kylen watched him with mild disapproval but said nothing.
Light footsteps echoed from the stairs.
Andrew glanced up mid-bite.
Time seemed to pause.
Mara stepped into view slowly, her figure framed by the staircase. Her hair fell loosely around her shoulders, still slightly damp, her face pale but delicate. Her eyes were downcast, her posture reserved, as though she expected to be judged for every step she took.
Andrew froze.
His eyes widened, his mouth still full, vegetables forgotten. Soup dripped down his arm unnoticed as he stared openly.
Kylen nudged him sharply under the table.
Andrew barely reacted.
He wasn’t staring out of attraction alone; there was something else. Something in her expression. Something broken, fragile, and deeply familiar.
Mara reached the last step and stopped, unsure of where to look.
Aunty Calina smiled at her warmly. “Come, dear. Sit.”
Mara moved toward the table and pulled out a chair carefully, sitting down as though she feared making noise. Aunty Calina served her food, placing the plate gently before her.
“Eat slowly,” she said. “You need strength.”
Mara nodded again, picking up her cutlery with hesitant fingers.
Andrew finally swallowed.
“So,” he said cautiously, wiping his hand on a napkin, “you must be Mara.”
Her grip on the fork tightened.
She nodded slightly but didn’t look up.
Andrew studied her more carefully now, no longer careless. He noticed the guarded way she held herself, the distant look in her eyes, the subtle tremor she tried to hide.
Kylen watched everything in silence.
“Mara,” Andrew said gently, softening his tone, “I’m”
“We’ll talk after lunch,” Kylen interrupted calmly.
Andrew glanced at him, then back at Mara, understanding settling in.
“Right,” he said quietly.
Mara ate slowly, barely touching her food. Every movement felt heavy, every sound too loud. She was acutely aware of the presence beside her, Kylen's calm authority, Andrew’s watchful curiosity.
When she finished her juice, she set the glass down carefully and stood.
“I… I’ll go back upstairs,” she murmured.
Kylen dropped his fork and exhaled slowly.
“Mara,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “Sit.”
She froze.
Andrew watched closely, sensing tension.
Kylen looked at her steadily. “You don’t have to run.”
For a moment, it seemed like she might break.
Slowly, she sat back down.
Andrew leaned back slightly in his chair, understanding now exactly why Kylen had called him.
This wasn’t just a case.
This was damaged.
And it was deep.
- Writer
