Chapter 7: Threads of Time and Ties of a Wedding

Five years ago:

He was seething with frustration, on the verge of annihilating the very essence of the person who invented the cargo system. He sat amid a chaotic mess of scattered packages, tearing them open one by one, only to find them filled with old, empty glass bottles. How could there be so many packages when he had ordered just a single, simple flask adorned with gemstones—a piece he had admired online? Collecting these flasks was his passion; they were his prized possessions. The top shelf of his cabinet, positioned against the wall to the right of his work des, was lined with them, each secured behind glass doors to keep them safe. No one, not even he himself, was allowed to touch them with bare hands. Even now, he wore gloves while ripping into the boxes with the desperation of a wild animal searching for food. His hair was a disheveled mess, and his tie hung loose. He was seated on the cold floor of his office on the third floor of Sky High Design & Build. Eric, 27 years old extremely talented manager of the high-end residential projects and interior design, was accustomed to managing the lofty demands of celebrity clients. Yet here he was, surrounded by the chaos of his failed search.

How could anyone dare to play such a cruel prank on this formidable individual, who was simply searching for what he believed would be a precious heirloom for generations to come? It was the sixteenth box he had opened, revealing yet another old, empty bottle. Frustration and anger surged within him like a storm. Just as he was about to open the last box, a knock sounded at the glass door. Without looking up, he snapped, "Yes."

The intruder entered, his footsteps making a barely audible sound on the polished floor. He stopped directly in front of the man who seemed to be grappling with his diminishing patience. A smile danced on his lips, exuding a dangerous charm. Despite it being past working hours, many senior officials preferred to finish their tasks in the office rather than taking them home. With a major wedding approaching—a significant celebration for a close official of their team—they aimed to complete their tasks meticulously before enjoying a week off by the beach.

Zeke crouched down, taking one of the boxes in his hands as if carefully inspecting it. The package bore no sender's name, being an anonymous delivery. The security team had scanned it and found it harmless, passing it on to the addressed recipient. After a moment, Zeke spoke with a hint of mocking amusement: "I didn't realize you worked as a cardboard collector in your spare time. What a peculiar hobby, Mr. Eric."

Eric's head snapped up, his gaze intense and unyielding. "What is it to you, Zeke? Leave," Eric's voice was laced with venom, each word a calculated blow.

Zeke's footsteps reverberated through the office, slicing through the heavy silence that had settled after hours of frustration. Eric sat among the scattered boxes, his fingers stained with remnants of tape and paper, his usually immaculate appearance marred by the disarray. 'I should choke the life out of him,' Eric thought, the dark fantasy offering a moment's solace from his gnawing frustration. The image of his hands closing around Zeke's throat was almost a relief. The calm of his face was a veneer, hiding the storm beneath. He kept his voice steady, though it felt like he was speaking through gritted teeth.

"What brings you here?"

Zeke's eyes glittered with dangerous amusement. "I was just in the neighborhood, so I thought I'd drop by."

Eric's jaw tightened. Every word from Zeke felt like a needle, poking at the raw edges of his patience. He forced himself to remain composed, but the desire to throw Zeke out of the office and onto the street was almost overwhelming.

"Enough with the games."

Zeke leaned in closer, his breath warm against Eric's cheek. "I wanted to see just how far you'd go before you snapped."

Eric's gaze hardened. Behind the seemingly cold demeanor of Zeke, he saw the seeping satisfaction in his rival's eyes. The realization that Zeke was behind this petty torment was not surprising—this was not the first time Zeke had pulled such childish pranks. He controlled his voice with cold precision, trying to cut through Zeke's irritating bravado.

"You've achieved your goal, Zeke. You've wasted my time."

Zeke's face darkened, and he stood up, his temper flaring. The acknowledgment that his childish plan had been discovered stung. "You think you're untouchable, don't you? You're just one step away from cracking." Zeke's voice trembled with frustration, unable to hide his growing discomfort.

There it was—the raw, unfiltered rage. Eric's mind raced, considering the possibilities of how to handle the situation. He maintained his outward calm, though inside he was a tempest of cold calculation. "I don't care for your childish antics."

Zeke's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and determination. He was about to respond when he saw Eric's hand moving toward the final package. Eric's hand hovered over it for a few seconds, the last box tattered and beaten from the earlier frenzy. With deliberate calm, he pried it open, his movements precise and measured. Inside, nestled among crumpled packing material, lay the flask he had been searching for. Its surface was adorned with intricate gemstone patterns, catching the dim light of the office and casting subtle reflections.

Eric's face, though still cold and composed, betrayed a fleeting hint of something softer. He held the flask with a reverent touch, his fingers tracing the ornate design. For a brief moment, the mask of detachment slipped, revealing a glimmer of admiration and affection in his eyes. He turned the flask over, studying it as if it were a long-lost treasure rather than just another addition to his collection.

Zeke, watching from a distance, felt a pang of something dark and unsettling. His eyes, once filled with mocking light, now darkened with a brooding intensity. Seeing Eric's reaction—an emotion that was almost vulnerable—stirred something deep within him, a mixture of envy and a twisted sense of betrayal. 'So, this is what really matters to him,' Zeke thought, his jaw tightening. 'This is what he treasures above all else.'

Eric carefully placed the flask on the shelf, among the other precious items, and then removed his gloves in an almost ceremonious gesture. He threw them into the bin with a finality that spoke of the end of their confrontation. With a final glance toward Zeke, Eric gathered his belongings—his briefcase, his coat—and walked out of the office with a deliberate calm.

Zeke's gaze followed Eric's every move, his eyes tracking the clean, measured strides of his rival. Eric's composure was unflappable, yet there was something… human in him just now. It's not just the flask—it's what it represents to him. A piece of his own damn soul.

As Eric disappeared from view, Zeke's focus snapped back to the flask. He approached it with a slow, almost predatory grace, his eyes narrowing with a mix of anger and something darker. This flask, he thought, his mind racing. It's more than a trinket to him. It's a symbol of his detachment, his control. And I need to show him that I could reach into his world, touch what he holds dear.

Zeke's fingers hovered over the flask, his expression twisted into a dark, calculating snarl. His mind churned with dangerous possibilities, a tumult of envy, frustration, and a dark satisfaction. 'He thinks he's invincible. But everyone has their breaking point. And this—this is just the beginning.'

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The week had passed in a blur, and now, with only three days left until Jade and Austin's wedding, the office buzzed with an undercurrent of excitement. The two had been dating for the past four years, but their friendship spanned even longer, having worked side by side in the design department for seven years. Austin had spent three of those years summoning the courage to ask Jade out. Jade had initially refused, but after Austin's relentless efforts and a little help from their friends, they were now on the verge of tying the knot. Eric, their close colleague, had played a role in bringing them together, even accompanying Austin to pick out the ring for the proposal three months ago.

Now, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Eric found himself standing in the dimly lit interior of "Elysian Threads," a boutique nestled in the heart of the city. The shop exuded an air of quiet elegance, with dark mahogany wood framing the walls, and soft, amber lighting casting a warm glow over the luxurious fabrics on display. The scent of cedar mingled with the faint aroma of fresh linen, creating an inviting atmosphere that seemed to welcome the end of a long day.

Eric was there to choose his suit for the wedding, a task that had slipped through the cracks amidst his busy schedule. The tuxedo he chose was a striking combination of black and deep emerald green. The jacket was a sharp black with a sleek Peak collar lined with emerald silk that caught the light with each movement. The sleeves had subtle, emerald piping running along the seams, giving the classic black suit an unexpected, modern twist. The inner lining of the jacket was a rich emerald brocade, detailed with an intricate pattern that added a touch of luxury. The pants were a perfect black, tailored slim but not tight. The ensemble was completed with a simple black bow tie and a crisp white shirt, but Eric knew he'd add his own touch—perhaps a pocket square in a matching green, or cufflinks that echoed the intricate pattern of the lining. It was a design that exuded timeless elegance, with hand-stitched buttonholes and a tailored fit that accentuated Eric's athletic frame.

As he adjusted the cuffs, the door behind him opened with a soft chime. Eric glanced in the mirror and smiled as Mattias entered.

Eric had to pay extra for an urgent order, and the shop owner, knowing Eric was the best friend of his benefactor, gladly accepted. As Eric tried on the sample suit to get the right measurements, the cool fabric sliding effortlessly over his skin, he couldn't help but think of the occasion it was meant for. Jade and Austin's wedding was more than just another social event; it was the culmination of years of friendship, love, and persistence. The thought brought a small, satisfied smile to his lips.

"Look at you, all dapper and stuff," Mattias teased, his voice warm and teasing as he walked in, carrying the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. "You're not planning on upstaging the groom, are you?"

Eric chuckled, turning to face Mattias. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Mattias gave an exaggerated nod of approval, walking around Eric to examine the tuxedo from every angle. "Emerald green, huh? Nice choice. It's bold but classy. You'll definitely be turning heads."

"Please.'' Eric replied, rolling his eyes playfully. "I'm just trying not to embarrass myself next to all the other well-dressed people."

Mattias smirked, leaning against the counter. "You? Embarrass yourself? Never. But, just to be sure, you should probably avoid the open bar."

Eric grinned, shaking his head. "I think I'll manage. It's not every day one of our own gets married."

Mattias replied. "True enough. Though, considering it took Austin three years to ask Jade out, it's a wonder it's happening at all."

Eric laughed, the sound echoing softly in the quiet boutique. "Yeah, and now look at them. Happier than ever. It was worth the wait."

''Are you not buying?'' Eric asked. ''No, I already have one still hanged in the closet untouched.'' Mattias replied lazily to which Eric nodded.

The two friends fell into an easy rhythm of conversation, the kind that comes from years of knowing each other. As they spoke, the door of the boutique swung open again, and Zeke entered. His presence was like a ripple in the air, subtle yet noticeable. Zeke's sharp eyes scanned the room, immediately landing on Eric, who was still standing on the raised platform in front of the mirror, the light reflecting off his meticulously chosen outfit.

Zeke's lips curled into a slight smirk as he took in the scene. Eric and Mattias, engrossed in their conversation, didn't notice his arrival. He walked up to a nearby display, his fingers grazing the fine fabrics as if considering them, but his mind was elsewhere. He watched Eric's every move, his thoughts swirling with a mixture of emotions that he barely acknowledged. There was something about seeing Eric in that suit, looking so composed and polished, that stirred a familiar irritation in him.

"Good afternoon, sir. How can I assist you today?" A salesgirl approached Zeke with a polite smile, drawing his attention back to the present.

"I'd like to see the designs to wear on a wedding," Zeke said, nodding towards Eric.

The salesgirl's smile widened. "Certainly, sir. Please follow me."

She led Zeke to a small alcove where the design details were laid out. Zeke examined the specifications, his mind already made up. The suit was classic, sophisticated—everything Eric embodied. There was a part of him that found it almost amusing, the way Eric always seemed so put together, so perfect. But it also sparked something deeper, something darker.

"I'll order this suit," Zeke said, handing over a card with his measurements. "Urgent delivery. I'll pay in advance."

"Of course, sir," the salesgirl replied, her fingers quickly navigating the digital system to pull up the information. "Would you like the exact same design, or would you prefer any modifications?" ''Nothing much. Just alter the colors. Everything else is fine.'' He replied. 

Mattias nudged Eric playfully. "So, how many hearts do you think you'll break at this wedding?" Eric rolled his eyes, adjusting the jacket. "Hopefully none. I'm just there to support Jade and Austin." Mattias grinned, "Sure, but you know how weddings are. Romance in the air, everyone looking their best…"

Eric shook his head with a smile. "I'll leave the heart-breaking to you, Mattias."

Their banter was light, filled with the easy camaraderie of old friends, but to Zeke, it felt like nails on a chalkboard. There was something about their closeness, the way Eric seemed so at ease, that made Zeke's irritation flare.

"Thank you for your order, sir," the salesgirl said, handing Zeke a receipt. "We'll have your suit ready as requested."

As he took the receipt from salesgirl, Zeke's gaze drifted back to Eric and Mattias, who were still oblivious to his presence. Eric had turned back to the mirror, adjusting the collar of his shirt with a precision that was almost mechanical. But Zeke noticed the slight furrow in his brow, the way his lips pressed together in concentration. For a moment, Zeke wondered what was going on in Eric's mind, what thoughts lay hidden behind that carefully composed exterior.

'I wonder if you ever let that mask slip, even for a second,' Zeke mused, a dark curiosity threading through his thoughts. 'What would it take to make you lose that damn composure of yours?'

Zeke's eyes darkened, his expression unreadable as he pocketed his receipt and turned to leave. He lingered by the door for a moment, casting one last look at Eric and Mattias before stepping out into the cool evening air. Inside the shop, Eric gave one final spin in front of the mirror, satisfied with his choice. "This'll do," he said with a nod, as Mattias pretended to fan himself dramatically.

"Oh, absolutely," Mattias quipped, grinning from ear to ear. "You'll be the talk of the wedding. Maybe you'll even catch the bouquet."

Eric rolled his eyes, playfully shoving Mattias towards the door. "Let's just get out of here before you make me regret bringing you along."

As they exited the boutique after getting the receipt, still joking and laughing, Zeke watched them from across the street, his hands buried deep in his coat pockets. His eyes narrowed as he watched Eric's retreating figure, a myriad of thoughts swirling in his mind. His lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk. 'I'll be right behind you.' The night was cool, and as Zeke walked away, he couldn't shake the feeling that the upcoming wedding would be more eventful than anyone anticipated.