Broken hearts

Xavier's hand hovered for a moment before placing the pills in Laura's palm, his voice low and indifferent. "Here, your meds." He shifted slightly, passing her a glass of water. "Drink up."

Laura's mom offered a soft smile of gratitude as she accepted the glass, her fingers brushing against his, but Xavier's expression remained unreadable, his usual distant charm in place. Laura swallowed the pills, her face twisting with a grimace as the bitterness hit. A quiet laugh escaped Xavier, his amusement flickering in his eyes.

"Stop being dramatic," Yane drawled with a smirk, casting a sidelong glance at Laura, who only responded with a blank, emotionless stare.

Xavier's fingers grazed Laura's forehead, his touch unexpectedly tender as he checked her temperature. Then, as if snapping back into his usual persona, his movements became brisk again.

"How about your promise?" Xavier's mom's voice echoed from the other room, a casual reminder that carried weight. His jaw clenched ever so slightly as his mother's words dragged his mind back to her demands. His expression darkened briefly, but he shook it off with a dismissive sigh. "Goodnight, Mom," he muttered, turning to leave the room, shoulders tight with an unspoken tension.

Elsewhere, the night erupted into chaos.

"Aaaaaaaaah!" Patricia's scream tore through the air, raw and filled with fury. Her eyes wild, she hurled a fragile robe stand across the room, the sound of shattering glass ricocheting off the walls.

Mrs. Julianne rushed into the room, eyes wide at the sight of the destruction her daughter had caused. "What on earth happened?" she gasped, her voice filled with a mixture of shock and concern.

"He doesn't love me!" Patricia's voice broke as she crumpled onto the bed, tears streaming down her cheeks. "He doesn't love me!"

Her mother, already familiar with her daughter's passionate infatuations, wrapped her arms around her. "Oh honey, don't cry," she whispered, stroking her hair. "It's going to be okay. It'll all work out."

Patricia shook her head violently, her sobs coming harder. "Why doesn't he love me? Am I not beautiful enough?" She buried her face in her hands, her cries muffled but agonizing.

Mrs. Julianne's heart ached for her daughter. "Of course, you're beautiful, darling. You're the most beautiful girl I know."

"Then why doesn't he want me?" Patricia's voice cracked, her frustration spilling out in every word.

"Hush now," her mother soothed, pulling her closer. "To hell with Xavier, or whatever he calls himself. If he can't see how special you are, then he's not worth your time. There are plenty of fish in the sea."

Patricia's tear-streaked face lifted, defiance flashing in her eyes. "But I don't want any other fish! I WANT XAVIER!" Her voice rang out, louder, more desperate, and her mother winced, covering her ears at the intensity.

"Alright, alright, calm down!" Mrs. Julianne's voice grew stern, her gaze hardening. "You are a Newman, and Newmans do not beg for attention. We command it." She leaned forward, locking eyes with Patricia. "You'll wear your heart proudly, Patricia. You are strong. You are a Newman. And Xavier? If he doesn't see that, then he's blind."

Patricia sniffled, her tears slowing as the words sank in. "I'm Patricia Newman?" she repeated, a flicker of doubt in her voice.

"Yes," her mother affirmed, a smile tugging at her lips. "And you deserve better than someone who doesn't see your worth."

A slow, uncertain smile spread across Patricia's face as she lifted her chin. "I'm Patricia Newman," she said, a little stronger now, her voice filled with determination. "I'm Patricia Newman."

"That's my girl," Mrs. Julianne said proudly. "Now, get dressed. We're going shopping."

At the mention of shopping, Patricia's eyes brightened, the tension in the room lifting. She wiped away the remnants of her tears, her smile widening. Shopping with her mother always made things better. After all, Patricia Newman was known for her impeccable fashion sense and unshakable confidence, the girl who never wore the same outfit twice and turned heads wherever she went.

Meanwhile,the low murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses filled the dimly lit bar. Xavier sat at a corner table, his drink barely touched as he stared into the distance with a tense expression. His friends, Damon and Gilbert, were seated nearby, their laughter a stark contrast to the storm brewing within Xavier. They had sensed something was off and had given him space, but when he spotted his father walking in, their concern grew.

Alastair, impeccably dressed and exuding an air of executive authority, scanned the room. When his gaze landed on Xavier, a flicker of recognition crossed his face. He approached with a cautious stride, the tension between them palpable.

"Xavier," Alastair said, trying to keep his voice steady. "It's been a long time."

Xavier looked up, his eyes cold. "What do you want?"

Alastair's attempt at a conciliatory smile faltered. "I didn't expect to find you here. I came to talk. I want to apologize for—"

"Save it," Xavier interrupted, his voice sharp. "You don't get to waltz back into my life and act like you care."

Alastair's face tightened. "I'm here to make amends, Xavier. I realize I've made mistakes, but—"

Xavier's voice was icy, barely containing his anger. "Mistakes? Like that night when I was ten, standing outside in the rain, begging you to help me? You saw me suffering and turned me away. I waited for you, but you never came."

A flicker of guilt crossed Alastair's face. "I was overwhelmed, and I didn't handle it well. But—"

Xavier stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "Excuses won't make up for it. You called me a bastard. I was just a child, and you rejected me. I hoped for your support, but all I got was your indifference."

Alastair's shoulders slumped, his voice softer now. "I realize how badly I failed you. I'm sorry for the pain I caused."

Xavier's expression hardened. "Sorry doesn't change anything. I don't want your apologies or your attempts to fix what's broken. I've moved on, and I don't need you in my life."

Damon and Gilbert, having observed the confrontation from a distance, understood the gravity of the situation. They quietly stepped outside to give Xavier and his father the privacy they needed.

Alastair's eyes were filled with a mix of regret and resignation as he nodded. "I understand. If you ever want to talk, I'll be here."

As Alastair walked away, Xavier sank back into his chair, his face a mask of conflicted emotions. The bar's ambient noise faded into the background as he tried to reconcile the painful memories with the present. Damon and Gilbert returned, their supportive presence a small comfort amid the turmoil.