WINTER
The thumping rhythm of Zion's music must have lulled me to sleep because the next thing I know, sunlight streams through a gap in the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the room. As I freshen up and pull on an old hoodie I borrowed from my ex, I suddenly feel self-conscious about the amount of skin I unwittingly showed last night.
Seeking solace in a cup of tea, I wander through the house. The silence is pervasive, just as it was the night before. There are no traces of their return late last night—no discarded shoes near the door or a used glass in the sink, the usual signs of everyday life. The entire place remains immaculate, as if untouched by human presence. Even the mess I created in the kitchen has vanished, leaving no trace of my brief existence here.
Dad and Jenny finally emerge, their first stop is the coffee machine. Dad grunts a half-hearted "good morning" before retreating to his office, absorbed in his world. His insistence that I live here for the sake of convenience—close to both work and university—rings hollow as I realize I've barely crossed anyone's mind in the less than twenty-four hours since I arrived. It's becoming clear that fitting neatly into Dad's meticulously planned life is all he expects from me.
Initially, when Dad proposed this arrangement, I was prepared to flatly reject it. But Mum, surprisingly, thought it was a brilliant idea. I'll have to remind myself to thank her for advocating this move the next time we talk.
"Could you keep Sunday night free? The four of us are planning a celebration for your move-in and starting at Jackson & Sons," Jenny asks after taking a sip of her coffee. The thought sends a wave of apprehension through me, but I agree before she slips away as well. I hear her conversing with someone before the house falls silent once more.
I'm still toying with my cereal when the atmosphere shifts in the room. I sense his presence before I look up, and when I do, my breath catches. His dark hair is tousled, his eyes weary and bloodshot, framed by dark circles.
"Morning," I greet him politely, though tension lingers in the air.
His response is merely a grunt, accompanied by a resentful glare as he mimics our parents, setting the coffee machine in motion. The aroma of freshly ground beans permeates the air, a familiar scent that always makes me crinkle my nose in distaste. I've never understood how anyone can stomach that bitter concoction.
As he busies himself with the coffee ritual, the tension between us hangs palpably in the air, thick with unspoken words and unresolved history. His movements are deliberate, yet there's an underlying agitation beneath his controlled demeanour.
..........
Flipping through the TV channels, I release a deep sigh. It's supposed to be the first day of my summer break, but I'm already feeling restless. Grabbing my phone, I shoot a message to Danni, my closest friend since our days in sixth form. She had welcomed me with open arms back then, showing me the ropes from day one. Despite our contrasting backgrounds—her in a lavish London mansion with her down-to-earth family deeply involved in the antique trade, and me in a modest flat on the city's outskirts with Mum—we've remained inseparable.
Danni's family, unlike my father, doesn't define success by wealth alone. They've built their fortune through their passion for antiques, yet they remain remarkably grounded.
With a bit of coaxing from Danni, I give in and decide to stay at her place, joining her for cocktails.
It's only been one night, but I'm already itching to escape the quiet monotony and immerse myself in the vibrant energy of her world.
...........
"So, how's life treating you in the show home?" Danni asks, her voice filled with curiosity as we lounge in her elegantly decorated room, surrounded by plush cushions and soft lighting. She adjusts the strap of her cocktail dress, her gaze shifting to meet mine expectantly.
I let out a sigh, dropping my eyeliner pencil and meeting her sympathetic gaze. She lounges on her bed, cocktail in hand, her expression filled with understanding.
"It's about as thrilling as expected," I reply with a hint of resignation. "I'm hoping things will pick up once I start at Johnson & Sons on Monday."
"I can't believe you're stuck working all summer," Danni laments, her voice tinged with disappointment. "Barcelona won't be the same without you."
My heart sinks at her words. We've been planning our first trip without parents for months, and I scrimped and saved to afford it. But Dad crushed all my hopes the moment he laid out his plans for my summer. The thought of missing out on our long-awaited holiday stings deeply, overshadowing any optimism I had about starting my new job.