HOMETOWN

Anakin sat in the middle of his room, surrounded by chaos. Shattered glass, overturned furniture, scattered papers—his rage had left destruction in its wake. His knuckles ached from punching the wall, but the pain was nothing compared to the storm raging inside him. His breaths were uneven, chest rising and falling rapidly. His vision blurred with a mix of fury and disbelief.

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to take deep breaths. His mind kept replaying Lillian's words over and over again. Your mother cheated on your father. Your mother cheated on your father with my father.

With shaking hands, he grabbed his phone and dialed.

Ringing.

Ringing.

Ringing.

A click.

"Hello, honey." His mother's warm voice greeted him, unaware of the storm brewing on the other end.

"Hi, Mom." His voice was calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that preceded a disaster.

"Um—where are you right now, Mom?"

"Home. Why do you ask?"

"Nothing, Mom."

A pause. His fingers gripped the phone tighter.

"Take care, Mom. Bye."

And just like that, he ended the call.

His hands shook, but his mind was made up. He wasn't going to sit here, drowning in anger. He grabbed a jacket, slipped into his shoes, and stormed out of the room. The halls blurred as he moved, his mind fixated on one thing—answers.

Hailing a cab, he made his way to the nearest metro station. The cold air did nothing to cool his burning fury. As he reached the station, he cursed under his breath. No trains to his mother's town tonight.

His fingers twitched. He turned on his heels and stepped back outside, pulling out his phone again. Within minutes, he booked a direct cab ride. It was expensive. He didn't care.

The drive was long. Two hours of silence, save for the occasional hum of the radio and the low murmur of the driver talking to someone on the phone. Anakin stared out of the window, his fingers tapping restlessly against his knee. The town's familiar skyline came into view. His heart pounded.

Once they arrived, he paid the driver without a second thought and stepped out. The cold wind bit at his skin, but he barely felt it. His mother's apartment stood in front of him, so familiar yet suddenly foreign.

He knocked.

There was shuffling from inside. The door creaked open, revealing his mother, still in her kitchen apron, hands slightly dusted with flour. Her eyes widened at the sight of him, a mixture of confusion and concern.

"Anakin? Why are you—"

"We need to talk, Mom."

She blinked.

"Talk about what?"

He stepped inside without waiting for permission. The air smelled of freshly baked bread, but it only made him feel nauseous. He turned to face her.

"About Dad."

Her face changed. Tension crept into her features, her hands twitching slightly.

"What are you talking about? Why did you come all this way, Anakin? To talk about your father?"

Anakin let out a small, humorless chuckle.

"I know it, Mom."

Her brows furrowed. "Know what?"

He sighed, rubbing his temples. "I can't believe I'm even having this conversation with my own mother."

Her unease deepened. "Talk about what? What do you think you know?"

His voice dropped, laced with venom.

"Your fucking infidelity."

The room went silent.

"I know it, Mom! I know how you cheated on Dad, how you blamed him, how you lied to me for months!"

His mother's lips parted, but no words came out. She looked utterly stunned. Shaken.

"I didn't—" she stammered, before sighing heavily. "I didn't cheat! Your father is the one who cheated!"

Anakin's temper snapped.

"For once in your goddamn life, can you stop fucking lying?!"

He grabbed a cup from the table and hurled it against the wall. It shattered, fragments scattering across the floor. His mother flinched but didn't move.

"You lied to me. You manipulated me. And now you've completely destroyed my entire life!"

His breathing was erratic. His vision blurred with frustration.

"For God's sake, I'm going to die in three days, Mom. Three fucking days. I was supposed to be happy. I was supposed to enjoy whatever time I had left. But you—you destroyed everything."

She stepped forward, hands reaching for him.

"Don't touch me!"

She stopped in her tracks, hurt flashing across her face. Her voice cracked. "Anakin, I'm sorry. Please—"

"No, you're not," he spat. "You're not sorry. You're sorry that I found out."

Tears welled in her eyes. She hated how he assumed things. Hated how he refused to see the years of struggle in her eyes.

"I really am sorry."

Anakin scoffed. "Shut the fuck up, Mom."

A beat of silence. Then he shook his head, voice quieter this time, but just as cutting.

"Why the hell am I even calling you 'Mom'? I don't have a mother."

She broke.

Sobs wracked her body as she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him in a desperate attempt to hold onto him.

"Don't say stuff like that," she pleaded, her voice trembling.

He pulled away, as if her touch burned him. His eyes, once filled with warmth for her, were now ice cold. He turned, walked to the door, and wrenched it open.

Before stepping out, he turned back one last time, voice hollow.

"You killed Dad alive."

And then he left.

Not by walking.

By running.

Like he was escaping from an unseen enemy.

Because the truth was—he was.

His nostalgic home wasn't his comfort place anymore. It was just another graveyard of broken memories.