Chapter 22: The Cage (Daniel POV)
Chapter 22: The Cage (Daniel POV)
I step out of the car, my shoes crunching on the gravel driveway. The house looms in front of me, big and white with tall windows and a wide porch. It’s the one my parents picked, the one they say is perfect for me and Rita. She’s already out, standing by the front steps, her hands clasped together. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she says, her voice bright, her eyes wide with excitement. I nod, but I don’t say anything. The real estate agent walks up, a woman in a gray suit, smiling too much. “Welcome!” she says, shaking Rita’s hand, then mine. “Let’s take a look inside.” I follow them, my steps slow, my chest heavy. This isn’t what I want, but I’m here anyway.
The door opens, and we walk into a big living room. The floors shine, all wood and clean, and the walls are painted a soft gray. Rita gasps, spinning around to see it all. “Look at this space!” she says, running her hand over a white couch. “We could put a big table right here, have people over.” She turns to me, waiting for me to agree. I force a small smile and shrug. “Yeah, sure,” I say, my voice flat. She doesn’t notice, or maybe she doesn’t care. She keeps moving, following the agent to the kitchen. I trail behind, my hands in my pockets, looking at the floor. The agent talks fast, pointing out the counters, the stove, all new and shiny. “Perfect for cooking together,” she says, winking at Rita. Rita laughs, light and happy. “I love cooking,” she says. “Do you, Daniel?” I look up, caught off guard. “Not really,” I mutter. She frowns a little, but the agent jumps in, keeping the tour going.
We climb the stairs, the wood creaking under my boots. The bedrooms are big, too big, with empty walls and wide windows. Rita stops in the master one, standing by the glass, looking out at the yard. “This view,” she says, soft now. “We could wake up to this every day.” She turns to me, her smile soft, like she’s picturing it. I see Leo instead, his messy hair on my pillow, his laugh filling a room. Not this house, not her. I nod anyway, keeping my face blank. “Nice,” I say, turning away. The agent leads us to a smaller room, calling it a nursery. Rita’s eyes light up. “For kids someday,” she says, glancing at me. My stomach twists, and I look out the window, saying nothing. She keeps talking, her voice a hum I tune out.
We’re back downstairs when Dad shows up. He walks in, his suit sharp, his face hard. “Thought I’d check in,” he says, shaking the agent’s hand. Rita smiles at him, polite, but I feel the air shift. He pulls me aside, his hand firm on my arm, dragging me to the porch. The door shuts behind us, and he lets go, staring me down. “You’re quiet,” he says, his voice low. “Too quiet. Rita’s trying, and you’re just standing there.” I look past him, at the trees lining the yard. “I’m here,” I say, keeping it short. He steps closer, his eyes narrow. “That’s not enough. Act the part, Daniel. Smile, talk, make this work. Or you’ll lose more than the company. You hear me?” His words hit hard, and I clench my jaw, nodding slow. “Yeah,” I say. “I hear you.” He stares at me a second longer, then walks back inside, leaving me alone on the porch.
I stay out there, the air cool against my face. The house feels like a cage, closing in tight. I hear Rita’s laugh through the window, light and free, and it makes my chest hurt. She’s happy, and I’m not. I can’t be. Dad’s voice echoes in my head, his warning loud and clear. Lose more than the company. I know what he means. Money, family, everything I’ve got left. I rub my face with my hands, trying to shake it off, but it sticks. The agent calls me back in, and I go, my steps heavy. Rita’s signing something, papers for the house, and she looks up, smiling. “It’s ours if we want it,” she says. I nod again, silent, and she doesn’t push.
The drive back is quiet. Rita chats about paint colors, curtains, things I don’t care about. I drop her off at her place, say goodnight, and head to my condo alone. The silence hits me hard when I walk in, the white walls glaring back. I kick off my shoes, toss my keys on the counter, and sit on the couch. My head’s full, too full, and I can’t sit still. I grab my phone, staring at the blank screen. Leo’s number’s still there, saved, even though I shouldn’t call. My thumb hovers over it, shaking a little. I open a text instead, start typing. “I didn’t want this.” The words look small, weak, but they’re true. I see his face, his eyes when I walked out, and my throat tightens. My finger moves to send it, but I stop. I can’t. I delete it, letter by letter, until the screen’s empty again.
I drop the phone on the cushion, lean back, and stare at the ceiling. It’s white, smooth, no cracks like Leo’s place. I close my eyes, trying to breathe, but all I see is him. His paint-stained hands, his grin, the way he’d fight for me. I didn’t fight back. I let Dad win, let Rita in, and now I’m here, stuck. My phone pings, loud in the quiet, and I grab it fast, heart jumping. It’s not him. It’s Rita. “Goodnight! Today was fun,” she writes, with a little heart. I stare at it, the screen glowing in the dark, and don’t reply. My hand falls to my lap, the phone still on, and I keep staring at the ceiling, her message unanswered.