Caught in The Act

My eyes were swollen from crying—raw, heavy, and stinging. Each blink felt like dragging sandpaper across my skin. My chest ached, not just physically, but from the unbearable weight of helplessness pressing down on me. I felt like I was suffocating, trapped in a life that didn't belong to me. Just as I curled tighter into myself, a knock echoed softly against the door.

"Mia, open the door."

It was Dad.

I dragged myself up from the bed, my limbs heavy, and opened the door. "Dad…" I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper, lips trembling in a sad pout. He didn't say anything right away. We both walked slowly to the edge of the bed and sat down beside each other in silence.

"I heard what happened between you and Marco," Dad began gently. "I understand how you're feeling. But your brother… he's only trying to protect you."

I exhaled deeply, the kind of sigh that seemed to carry years of buried frustration. Dad slid his arm around me, a warm but hesitant gesture—like he was afraid I might break.

"Dad," I said, voice cracking, "this isn't the life I want. You all keep things from me. You never explain anything. I don't understand you... any of you. Please… I'm begging you—give me freedom."

My voice broke. I covered my face with my hands and sobbed. Loud, raw, unfiltered sobs—the kind that shake your whole body and leave your chest burning. It felt like everything I'd been holding in for years was finally pouring out, unstoppable. The air felt too thick to breathe. Dad didn't try to stop me. He just stayed there beside me, silently breathing in and out, and I could sense the weight of his own emotions—how hard he was holding back his tears.

Footsteps padded quietly outside the door.

Then, it opened.

It was Mom.

She rushed over and knelt in front of me, wrapping her arms around me with a tenderness only she could give.

"Oh, sweetie. Stop crying. We'll figure everything out, okay?" she whispered, gently rocking me in her arms. She held me tightly, like she was trying to absorb all the pain through her embrace.

She pulled back slightly, holding both my shoulders so I would look at her. "What do you want? Tell me."

I met her gaze through blurry, tear-filled eyes. "You know what I want, Mom… I'm thankful for everything you and Dad have given me. I truly am. But I won't be happy here. Not like this."

There was a pause.

Then I noticed it—Mom and Dad sharing a look. One of those silent exchanges where no words are needed. Just a glance that said everything.

Mom turned back to me, her expression softening. "Okay. We'll figure something out," she said, kissing both of my tear-stained cheeks.

She slowly stood, brushing her hands along her knees. "We'll leave you here for now. We'll give you some space. Come out when you're ready." She gave Dad a small nod, a silent cue.

He leaned forward, kissed my forehead, then followed her out of the room.

They knew me well. Especially Mom. She always knew when I needed to be alone… and when I didn't.

After the door clicked shut, I stood up and walked slowly to the window. I slid it open, letting in the cool, earthy breeze that drifted from the trees surrounding the house. The scent of fresh leaves and moist soil filled the air, grounding me in a way that words couldn't. I inhaled deeply. It felt like the wind was wrapping itself around me, whispering You're okay now.

Somehow, after letting everything out, something inside me felt lighter.

But my mind… it was a storm.

Questions swirled, unanswerable and relentless. I didn't even notice how long I stood there, just staring out into the trees as if they might offer me clarity. My eyes were still puffy, my legs aching from standing too long.

Eventually, I turned away from the window and made my way back to bed. I curled up on my side, hugging my pillow like it was someone who could protect me. But no matter how tightly I held it, I couldn't sleep. I kept tossing and turning, frustrated and restless.

I couldn't take it anymore.

I got up and quietly slipped out of my room. The hallway was silent, cloaked in shadows. The lights were dim. Where were Mom and Dad? Where was Marco?

Then my eyes landed on the door beside mine—a white door, identical to mine, with a golden knob that gleamed softly in the dark.

I tiptoed closer and pressed my ear against it.

Silence.

No movement. No breathing. It felt… empty.

I hesitated for a moment, then slowly turned the knob and opened the door.

Inside was a room almost exactly like mine—queen-size bed, blue bedsheet. The same blue as Andreis' eyes. Everything was simple, neat. A clean, masculine feel. I hadn't known what this room was before Andreis arrived, but it made sense now—it must have been the guest room. Now, it was his.

There was a bathroom, a large cabinet along the left wall, and a study desk on the right. The bed faced a wide window that offered a view of the same apple trees as mine. Endless green stretched as far as the eye could see.

I walked over to the desk, where his black bag rested. I leaned in to inspect it, nerves twisting in my gut. That's when my hip knocked the corner of the table. Hard.

Crap.

The bag tumbled to the floor, and its contents scattered across the wood.

Panic surged through me.

I dropped to my knees and scrambled to gather everything. Mostly papers, probably for work. A few IDs spilled out too. I froze as my fingers brushed over one.

A residency ID.

Angelo's name.

My blood ran cold.

Why does Andreis have Angelo's ID? What is this? What the hell did he do?

I barely had time to process it.

The bathroom door creaked open.

I shot up, clutching the ID in my hand.

Andreis stepped out—damp hair, fresh clothes, a towel in one hand. His expression froze the moment he saw me.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice quiet but tense.

His eyes dropped to the ID in my hand, then back to my face.

Everything around us went still.

Like the air itself was holding its breath.