Anguish

Dean could hear Roman's breathless whisper.

"I don't understand what you are saying. W-what do you mean?" Dean walks around. "Where are you?"

Nevertheless, all he could perceive was the harsh, jarring sound of tires grinding against the asphalt, a piercing screech that reverberated in the air like a warning siren.

The noise drowned out any other sounds that might have accompanied it, leaving him in a bubble of tension and uncertainty.

Call ended.

Dean felt an overwhelming sense of panic wash over him, leaving him unsure if he had actually stopped breathing or if the sensation was merely a trick of his mind.

His heart raced in his chest as he struggled to steady himself, the air feeling thick and suffocating.

Desperate for clarity and help, he fumbled for his phone once more and dialed the number again, his fingers trembling on the screen.

Again.

Again.

"Why is it not connecting?"

As Dean stood there, he felt an unmistakable tug at the fabric of his shirt, drawing his attention.

He glanced down to find Ayan gazing up at him with wide, expressive eyes that seemed to hold a world of curiosity and wonder.

The innocence reflected in those big eyes was both captivating and disarming, making Dean momentarily lose track of everything around him.

"Teacher, when will Papa come?" Ayan asked while glancing at the school grounds.

His father has always been a model of punctuality, consistently demonstrating a strong commitment to being on time. He has never once arrived late, ensuring that he is always there, ready and prepared.

Dean swallows hard, a knot tightening in his stomach as he imagines the worst possible outcomes.

He pictures the searing heat of the tears, the sharp, piercing tone of Roman's voice echoing in his mind, each word heavy with hopelessness.

The thought of the phone call failing to connect looms over him like a dark cloud, a tangible reminder of his mounting anxiety.

Dean ducks down and carefully holds Ayan's face. "Papa is preparing for a surprise."

Watching Ayan's eyes turn bigger, followed by a toothy smile. "However, I wasn't supposed to tell you."

Ayan kept a finger on his lips. "Teacher, I also have a surprise for you."

Dean forced himself to smile and gestured for Ayan to continue speaking as his trembling fingers called Roman again.

Ayan giggles, "We have a big, very pretty, and nice gift for you."

Dean smiles as his eyes flicker over his phone and back to Ayan. The boy peeks behind the gate, a pout on his face. "Teacher, all went home."

Dean calls Roman again while replying. "But the teacher is here, right?"

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

"Sir, as you had instructed, I have cut those wires." The gardener threw his shovels and fake mustache with a grey beard in the trash can.

"It was quite difficult, to be honest." The man stretched his neck and sighed, hearing the crack.

The strong gaze of Elder Raynott followed every moment of the man.

The man sighed, "Why go through all this trouble to just kill a man? I could just pull the trigger, and he is gone from the world."

"That's what we don't want, you fool. It should be like an accident. Nobody should get suspicious of you."

The man removes the mask. "Who would get suspicious of Sabastian, aka the face of La Scenté company?"

"You're right, but even the best-laid plans can go awry, and we can't afford any slip-ups."

Sebastian nodded, a smirk creeping onto his face. "Then we make sure everything is flawless; I have connections that can help make this look like a tragic mishap."

"But remember, we need to keep our distance from anyone who might connect the dots." The tension in the room thickened as Sabastian leaned back, his eyes glinting with a mix of confidence and cunning. "Don't worry; I've orchestrated worse before, and no one ever suspected a thing."

His voice dripped with assurance as he continued, "Trust me, this will be no different. We just need to stick to the plan and stay one step ahead." The air crackled with anticipation as they plotted their next move, aware that the stakes had never been higher.

As the shadows deepened around them, a sense of urgency filled the room. Each of them understood that any misstep could unravel everything they had worked for, but the thrill of the game was intoxicating, pushing them to embrace the risk with fervor.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

This time when Dean called Roman, the call was accepted.

With wide eyes and hitched breath, Dean whispered, "He—Hello."

[Uh, hello, uh, actually,]

The voice was unfamiliar. His mind stopped for a second as he stood straight, which was followed by Ayan's gaze.

[Sir, the owner of this phone has been hit by a bus.]

Before Dean could process the sentence, he heard the background noise of the siren of an ambulance. There was a peculiar feeling in his mind, making his mind feel light.

[Please come to the city hospital. The person is badly injured.]

The phone slips between his fingers, which Ayan catches. "teacher,"

The lips quivered as he tried to inhale air; however, nothing was reaching his lungs.

"Hey, Dean," he heard.

Daniel was quick to hold the falling man tightly.

"What happened?" Daniel asked lightly shaking Dean's face as he looked frozen.

Ayan clutched the phone tightly while looking at his teacher with wide eyes. He heard the person talking on the phone. Hearing the voice, Ayan keeps the phone to his ear.

[Sir, are you there? Kindly re-

Dean swiftly takes the phone from Ayan.

"Baby, listen to me." Dean pulls Ayan close and hugs the tender boy. "You will be a good boy and go with teacher Daniel, okay?"

Ayan looks up from his teacher's chest. "Why, teacher? papa—"

"Papa needs help buying a Christmas gift for you. So, you'll meet him after I—" Dean paused, trying to fabricate something new.

"Oh, stop lying, Dean. I know you adore Ayan, so you want to take him home, right?"

Sometimes, it's great to have friends who understand you before you can seek their help.

Dean nods with a sniff. "Of course, my parents want to meet the boy I talk so much about."

"But, teacher, papa—"

Dean quickly cups Ayan's face. "I informed your papa. He'll pick you up from my house." He pulls Ayan tightly in his arms. With closed eyes, he whispered, "He'll come. He has to..."

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

The road leading to the hospital seemed to stretch endlessly before him, each step feeling like a small eternity.

Dean closed his eyes tightly, trying to block out the overwhelming sense of dread that settled in his chest. He clasped his hands together, fingers interlacing as he battled the rising tide of anxiety.

With each breath, he focused on maintaining a sense of calm, though the chilly air did little to soothe his troubled mind.

The distant sirens and bustling traffic faded into the background as he sought solace in his own thoughts, wondering why this journey felt so interminable.

Roman.

He wiped his tears.

He hugged him in his distress.

He cured his wounds.

He managed to calm his nerves.

He managed to make him love himself.

He taught him to let go and cry out.

Hiccup.

Dean pressed his palm against his forehead, the weight of his grief settling heavily on him. Tears streamed down his cheeks, glistening like fragile crystals as they tumbled past his eyelashes and landed softly in his lap.

Each drop felt like a tangible reminder of the pain in his heart. With every breath he took, he was inexorably pulled back to memories of Roman—each recollection flooding his mind with vivid images and emotions that carved deeper into his soul.

Sob.

Why does it feel so directionless now?

Why can't he understand what to do next?

Why was he unable to tell the cab driver to go to the hospital?

Why, why, does it just have to happen with him?

Why always him?

"Uh, we have reached." The driver carefully whispered as Dean wiped his tears from the back of his hand. He quickly takes the money.

"Don't pay. The person will be alright." The driver spoke as though he understood.

"The person so dear to you will get well soon." The driver further added.

Dean's eyes flash with a fierce intensity, the sharp sting of pain coursing through him once more. He swallows hard, steeling himself against the discomfort, and with a nod, he reaches deep into the pocket of his jeans.

As his fingers brush against the bills, he can feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him, a mix of anxiety and resignation flooding his senses. With a heavy heart, he pulls out the money.

"The same person always showed me to do right and never take someone's kindness for granted," Dean replied while forwarding the money.

The driver flashed a warm smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and accepted the cash with a gentle nod of his head, acknowledging the gesture with a sense of appreciation. He tucked the money into his pocket, maintaining eye contact as if to convey his gratitude for the fare.

Dean ran towards the main gate while looking around. Who knows? Roman might have—

"Be quiet, you idiot! Don't think so negatively." Dean hits his head. He took deep breaths.

Calm, stay calm.

He reached the reception and stood in front of the receptionist.

"Uh, Ro-Roman, accident, here." Dean fumbles while pointing his hand in different directions.

"Sir, please calm down. He's in room no. 324 and per—"

Dean felt a surge of urgency as he darted toward the staircase, not allowing the lady's words to complete their journey to his ears. He maneuvered through the crowd with determination, gently but insistently urging people aside, his focus unwavering.

His eyes darted from one door number to another, scanning for his destination amidst the bustle.

He stood in front of the nurse, who gasped in shock.

"Ma'am, room 324."

"Sir, it's on the third floor on the right."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Dean dashed through the bustling crowd, weaving skillfully between clusters of people. His heart raced as he sprinted towards the staircase, his disheveled hair bouncing with each hurried step.

Arriving at the next floor, he skidded to a halt, breathing heavily. As he caught his breath, he noticed curious eyes from those around him glancing in his direction, their expressions a mix of surprise and intrigue.

321, 322, 323.

Dean stood in front of the door marked with a chipped number, squinting at the faded paint as he contemplated his next move. He had been searching for what felt like an eternity, his heart racing with a mix of frustration and determination.

He gripped the brass doorknob with a tense hand, his knuckles white under the strain. Drawing in a ragged breath that felt heavy in his chest, he steadied himself for a moment, the air thick with anticipation.

Slowly, he leaned forward, feeling the cool metal against his palm, and gently turned the knob. With a careful push, he eased the door open, the creaking hinges adding to the palpable tension in the air.

There was a green screen, and a few people's shadows could be seen. While fisting his pants, Dean took a hesitant step, moving closer with held breath and heart.

He cautiously peeks from behind the heavy curtain, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the sight of an unfamiliar figure sitting on a bed with doctors around.

A flicker of surprise crosses his face before he quickly pivots on his heel and steps back, the realization dawning that he had likely entered the wrong room.

The soft rustle of the curtain falls silent as he moves away, intent on finding the correct destination.

His eyes locked with Roman's side profile.

The man was sitting on a neatly made hospital bed, the sterile scent of antiseptic lingering in the air around him.

A nurse, dressed in scrubs adorned with cheerful patterns, was attentively tending to the wound on his elbow. Her movements were gentle yet deliberate as she cleaned the area with a soft cloth, ensuring that no dirt remained. She then expertly wrapped a fresh bandage around his arm, smoothing it out with care to ensure a snug fit without causing discomfort.

The man watched her work, grateful for her attentiveness, feeling a sense of relief as the pain began to fade under her skilled touch.

Dean approached him with careful, gentle steps, each footfall measured and soft against the ground as if he were navigating a fragile moment between them.

Roman instinctively sensed a presence nearby and glanced up, only to be met with the sight of Dean's face, glistening with tears.

The anguish etched in Dean's features tugged at Roman's heart, and before he even comprehended his own emotions, his eyes brimmed with tears, mirroring Dean's sorrow. He furrowed his eyebrows in concern, the weight of worry evident on his face.

Slowly, he raised his other hand toward Dean, a silent gesture of comfort and reassurance.

Dean swiftly scanned Roman's face, his eyes narrowing as he searched for any signs of injury. He cautiously parted Roman's hair with his fingers, inspecting closely for any cuts or bruises that might have been hidden beneath.

His heart raced as he moved down Roman's arms, brushing his fingertips over the skin in search of wounds, focusing especially on the area around the elbow.

After a careful examination of his upper body, Dean's gaze drifted down to Roman's feet. His breath caught in his throat when he spotted the left leg encased in a thick layer of white plaster. The sight sent a wave of concern tingling through him as he realized the extent of Roman's injuries.

Dean tumbles forward with trembling lips, landing squarely against Roman's chest, which gives a soft yet solid cushion.

Roman glances downward, his gaze landing on the wild, fluffy tuft of hair that spills over Dean's forehead, framing his face like a messy halo.

The close proximity allows Roman to feel the warmth radiating from Dean's body, as he clings tightly, seeking comfort in the embrace.

The moment is both unexpected and oddly intimate, filled with a mix of surprise and camaraderie.

The nurse took the cue to leave them alone and closed the curtain as Roman's hand had an IV attached to it.

Roman rubs Dean's back. "What happened?"

Instead of the expected response, he was met with overwhelming, anguished sobs erupting from the man.

The deep, shuddering cries echoed through the air, stirring a profound sense of worry within him. It was a sound that pierced through the calm, sending a chill down his spine and tightening his chest with concern.

As the nurse gently parted the curtain, her eyes widened slightly in concern as she prepared to caution the duo inside. But her words caught in her throat when she met the intense gaze of Roman.

He held her stare for a moment, then a flicker of remorse crossed his features as he subtly shook his head, tilting it slightly as a gesture of apology. The air was thick with unspoken understanding, momentarily freezing the moment in a delicate balance between warning and acceptance.

The nurse pressed her lips together and nodded, still pointing her finger at her lips.

Roman nodded.

Dean glanced up, his heart heavy, meeting Roman's gaze filled with concern. The worry etched across Roman's face deepened as he took in Dean's distress.

With trembling hands, Dean wiped away the tears streaming down his cheeks, only to find fresh waves of sorrow cascading as memories flooded back.

Each brush of his hand seemed to amplify his emotions, and Roman's eyes reflected his anguish at the sight of Dean's struggle.

"Why tears in beautiful eyes, hmm?" Roman's whispers made Dean's lips wobble with grief as he cried again.

"My heart just stopped beating, you know?" Dean replied with hiccups.

"Nurse, a glass of water, please," Roman asked while looking at the closed curtain.

Dean felt a pang in his heart.

Was he ignored just now?

Dean hurriedly swipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to erase the evidence of his tears. He draws in a sharp breath and clenches his jaw, sealing his lips tightly together to stifle the inconspicuous hiccup that threatens to escape.

His heart races as he fights to regain his composure, listening intently to the silence around him while mentally coaxing himself to calm down.

I must have embarrassed him. What was I thinking when I came here? So dumb of you, Dean.

As he sat there, contemplating his surroundings, a notion began to form in his mind—a growing urge to leave the place behind. The weight of the atmosphere pressed against him, whispering that it might be time to go.

Dean stood up with a forced smile. "I'll inform Calder. I didn't get time to inform. Please get well soon."

Roman furrowed his eyes. "What—" Noticing Dean turning, he quickly held his hand and hissed with pain.

The nurse who was here with water quickly placed it on the table. "You shouldn't move around now. Please try to stay still as much as possible."

The nurse feels the plaster has dried. "Please lie down now."

Dean moved quietly, his footsteps barely making a sound on the floor. He glanced down at the polished boards beneath him, noticing every knot and design. Suddenly, he felt a wave of uncertainty wash over him. With a deep breath, he pivoted on his heel, his heart racing as he contemplated leaving the scene behind him.

"Dean," Roman calls, taking the water bottle and opening the cap, ignoring the sharp pain in his elbow. "Please come here."

Dean stood in front of Roman, shifting slightly as he registered the weight of the room's silence. Roman gestured towards the bed, his long fingers beckoning Dean to sit.

The bed, frame sturdy and inviting, lay covered with a white, plush comforter, its edges perfectly tucked in. Hesitating for just a heartbeat, Dean stepped forward, feeling the soft mattress give slightly beneath him as he settled onto the edge, the fabric cool against his skin.

"Drink some water." Roman tilts the bottle to Dean's mouth.

"Why did you cry so much? I'm alright." Roman said and tilted the bottle carefully.

The nurse glanced at the gesture with a furrowed brow, her expression reflecting a mix of concern and disappointment. She shook her head slowly as if trying to process the situation, before turning away.

With a deep breath, she walked down the brightly lit hallway toward another patient in need of her care, her focus shifting to ensure that everyone received the attention they required.

As Dean took a slow, refreshing sip, he could almost sense the liquid weaving its way through him, quenching not just his thirst but also easing the heavy ache that had settled in his heart.

With each gulp, the tension began to melt away, transforming the piercing discomfort into a soothing relief, as if the water had washed away the burdens he had been carrying.

Roman wipes excess water from his lips with his fingers. "Come here."

Dean shook his head and whispered, "Let me help you,"

Roman didn't answer nor asked anything. In turn, he kept quiet and let the man do what calms his mind.

With gentle determination, Dean carefully helped Roman ease himself down, his face showing a mix of concentration and relief.

He took a moment to adjust Roman's position, making sure he was as comfortable as possible.

With a soft smile, Dean grabbed a plush pillow and slid it under Roman's plastered leg, propping it up just enough to alleviate some of the pressure and discomfort.

The room filled with a sense of calm as Roman settled into the bed, grateful for Dean's thoughtful care.

Roman smiled to himself, a warm sense of contentment spreading through him as he reached out with his right hand, palm up in invitation.

Dean, catching the gesture, returned the smile with a soft, genuine warmth that lit up his eyes. He pulled a chair closer to Roman, the slight scrape of the legs on the floor breaking the quiet atmosphere.

As he settled into the seat, he leaned in, resting his head against Roman's chest.

The rhythmic sound of Roman's heartbeat provided a soothing backdrop, making Dean feel safe and at ease in the comfort of their shared moment.

Roman gently ran his fingers through his hair, the soft strands slipping between his fingers as he gazed intently into his eyes.

The warmth of their shared moment enveloped them, creating an unspoken connection that held them in a delicate balance between tenderness and longing.

"Ayan is with my parents," Dean informs as Roman smiles with assurance.

"I know, the only person who can worry about Ayan as much as me is you."

Dean's gaze lowered as he finally felt at ease. His mind, thoughts, heart—everything is calm and quiet now.

Dean looks up again. "I'm afraid to live without you."

Roman looks back. "And I can't die without meeting you."

Dean swiftly placed his fingers on Roman's mouth. "Don't say anything about dying. I don't know who picked up your phone. He was like, It was a major accident, and you—you are badly injured."

The nightmare that haunted him till he saw Roman faded into a distant memory; it was merely a leg injury, nothing more severe than that.

In his mind, he could almost see the healing process unfolding, with Roman recovering faster than anyone else.

Dean felt a surge of determination, knowing he would be there every step of the way, ensuring that Roman not only healed but thrived.

"I was breathless and unable to live when I got the news." Dean lets out.

"Even after I die, I'll be with—"

"Let my prayers reach and save you. I'll not let you go anywhere. My well-wishes will linger in the air for you."

Roman gently clasped Dean's hand in his own, lifting it slowly to bring it closer to his eyes. He studied the contours of Dean's fingers, their warmth radiating against his skin, and marveled at the way the light reflected off the delicate lines in his palm.

Roman's gaze lingered on the tiny details, feeling a sense of intimacy as he appreciated the connection they shared in that quiet moment.

"Maybe it's your wishes that shielded me. Perhaps this life is because of your prayers."

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Calder's eyes filled with rage as he looked at the data in front of him. "Do you expect me to believe this bull—" He sighed to himself and licked his lower lip with a sharp inhale.

Calder stood straight as he had pressed his palms over the table. "A rat did all these things, and that's how Roman's bike didn't function when the brakes were applied."

He nods to himself while his eyes roam over every individual officer, who has their head bowed. "Fucking nonsense."

Calder, his heart racing and frustration boiling over, forcefully shoved the paperweight off the table. It tumbled through the air, spinning wildly, before crashing into the wall with a sharp thud, the sound echoing in the otherwise tense silence of the room.

The impact sent small shards of the fragile object scattering across the floor, a stark contrast to the intensity of the moment.

"If you all love your jobs, make sure to make a believable report at least." Calder snaps and throws the papers on the floor. "Do I look like a four-year-old kid who will believe anything said?"

His eyes lingered on each person. "Now, go and give me an honest report. I wished to see the officers, who had taken an oath to serve and protect the people, next time."

It was just yesterday that Roman was laughing at his funny jokes. This has to happen this evening, and on that, he got the news from the reports submitted. If he didn't know Roman's bike RC number. He would not have thrown so much temper at his staff.

Before calling the Carter family, Calder wanted to check on Roman's situation first. He knew it was important to understand what was happening before he spoke with Roman's elderly parents.

If he finds himself unable to manage the overwhelming circumstances at hand, he must come to terms with the harsh reality of the situation.

How can he possibly expect to contain his emotions, to suppress the tears that threaten to spill, while simultaneously maintaining a façade of strength for those around him?

He'd like to know if Dean is aware of the tragic situation regarding Roman's condition. If he is, it's hard to imagine how he would react; the weight of such news would undoubtedly crush him, sending him into a deep well of sorrow from which it would be difficult to emerge.

With a slight nod of understanding, Calder reaches for his phone, fingers brushing against the sleek surface. Just as he's about to unlock it, the screen lights up, revealing an incoming call from his wife.

He freezes, momentarily captivated by the sight of her name glowing brightly against the dark background, feeling a rush of anticipation mixed with concern.

"Hello, dear?"

[Honey, I can't feel our baby.]

Calder looks around while trying to understand.

[What the fuck are you waiting for?]

"Yeah, I'm reaching there. Give the phone to Mom."

He heard a huff from his wife.

"Mom, please take her to the city hospital."

[But—

"Please, understand. This is the best way to solve all problems. I'll be there soon."

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

"And, the teacher kicked the bad man's leg. He fell."

The Rayden family looks at the tiny boy while gasping with wide eyes.

"Oh, then?" Mrs. Rayden asked, keeping a chocolate milkshake in front of the boy.

"My teacher was so cool that the bad man got scared." Ayan exaggerated while expressing with his hands how great and cool his teacher was.

Daniel had initially intended to drop Ayan off at Dean's house and then head back home, looking forward to a quiet evening. But as they arrived, Mrs. Rayden, Dean's mother, greeted them warmly and invited Daniel to stay for dinner.

Caught off guard by her hospitality, Daniel felt it would be impolite to refuse. Meanwhile, Ayan eagerly began recounting the exciting tale of Dean's recent trip, embellishing the story with animated gestures and laughter.

As Ayan spoke, Daniel found himself captivated by the vivid details and the way Ayan brought the adventure to life, slowly forgetting his original plan to leave.

Daniel found himself drawn into the story, captivated by Ayan's enthusiasm. "It sounds like Dean had quite the adventure," he said, smiling as he settled into a chair after helping Mrs. Rayden, eager to hear more.

Ayan's face lit up with excitement as he noticed Daniel's keen interest. He eagerly dove into a vivid description of the stunning landscapes he had encountered, painting a picture of rolling hills adorned with vibrant wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze.

He spoke of majestic mountains towering in the distance, their peaks capped with glistening snow that caught the light of the sun, creating a dazzling effect.

Ayan's eyes sparkled as he recounted the moments spent in nature's embrace, feeling the serenity wash over him.

As he continued, he couldn't help but highlight his teacher, who he believed was the epitome of charm and charisma. Ayan described how his teacher had an effortless grace, with a warm smile that could brighten even the cloudiest day.

A doorbell was ringing, bringing the people back to their homes.

"I think it's Ethan." Mr. Rayden spoke and stood up to open the door.

Ethan stepped through the door, trailing closely behind his dad, and was taken aback when his eyes landed on Ayan.

The familiar face, usually glowing with an easy smile, was unexpected in this setting. Ethan's mind raced with questions—what was Ayan doing here? A wave of surprise washed over him, accompanied by a hint of excitement at the prospect of seeing his tiny friend.

He took a moment to absorb the scene, noticing Ayan was animatedly chatting with his family, laughter punctuating the air around them.

"Ayan?" Ethan grins and quickly fishes chocolate from his bag. "This is for you."

"Thank you, uncle." Ethan ruffled his hair with a smile.

"Did Dean bring him here? But Roman sir went to school for Ayan, then Roman sir is present too?"

Mrs. Rayden cast a sideways glance at Daniel. With a subtle nod, she motioned for Ethan to trail behind her, the unspoken instructions clear in her expression. As she turned on her heel, the air around them seemed to thicken with anticipation, and Ethan followed closely, curiosity piqued about the direction they were headed.

"I don't understand, dear. Daniel brought the boy here, saying Dean asked him to do so. Also, Dean is not home yet. When you said, Roman? Do you mean the same Roman you said that has become..."

Ethan nodded. "Yes, Mom, he is the same person. And, Ayan is his son."

Mrs. Rayden gasped. "I thought, I'll never see a grandchild of my own. But I have Ayan now. My grandson is so adorable."

Ethan quickly held his mother. "Mom, mom, mom. I'm not sure. You forced me to speak my hunch."

Mrs. Rayden looked at Ethan, her excitement tempered by concern. "What do you mean, Ethan? You can't just drop something like that and leave me hanging. Is there something about Roman I should know?"

Ethan hesitated, his thoughts racing as he grappled with the weight of his revelation. "It's just... I feel that Roman might be the person we think he is for Dee, and I need to figure it out before things go any further." Mrs. Rayden's expression shifted, a mix of worry and determination crossing her face as she urged him to share more.

"Please, Ethan, if you have any doubts or concerns, now is the time to voice them," she said, steady but laced with urgency. "We can't let this situation escalate without understanding all the implications."

Ethan took a deep breath, knowing that the moment's weight rested on his shoulders. He thought to let his mother know the truth they had learned.

"Ayan's mother's name is Amelia. She's the lady who has given her heart to Dee."

Mrs. Rayden's heart raced as she pieced the puzzle together, realizing that the connections ran far deeper than mere acquaintanceship. "If whatever you said is true, then we need to tread carefully; her truth could either safeguard or jeopardize everything for Dean," she said, determination flickering in his eyes.

"I just hope Roman sir will understand, Dean."

_____________________________________