The following day...The morning light began to filter softly through the curtains, casting delicate shadows on the bedroom walls. Olivia stirred beneath the covers, feeling the warmth of Carlos's body beside her. It was peaceful, almost tranquil, yet that serenity did nothing to soothe the storm brewing within her. The gentle hum of an alarm buzzed to life on the nightstand, snapping her out of her thoughts.Her hand fumbled clumsily across the bed, brushing the sheets as she blindly reached for the phone. The incessant sound continued as her fingers finally found it, silencing it with a swift tap. A deep sigh escaped her lips, her body settling back against the pillows for a brief moment.Carlos stirred beside her, his eyes still heavy with sleep as he turned toward her, voice groggy yet affectionate. "Good morning," he murmured, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth.Olivia forced a smile in return, her gaze never quite meeting his. "Morning," she replied softly, almost
A few hours later....The smell of sizzling bacon filled the air, mingling with the warmth of freshly brewed coffee. Carlos stood in the kitchen beside his mother, Angelina, stirring a pot of scrambled eggs while his father, Raymond, toasted bread at the counter. The gentle clatter of plates and the hiss of the stove created a comforting, homey background. It was a rare and peaceful morning, the kind Carlos had longed for. He hadn’t been back here in so long, and after 13 years away, it felt like a small piece of home had returned to him.Angelina turned toward Carlos with a fond smile, her hands busy chopping vegetables. “I never thought I’d see you back here in this kitchen, helping me make breakfast again. It feels like old times, doesn’t it?”Carlos grinned, his heart warmed by her words. “Yeah, it does. You know, you always made the best breakfasts. Olivia tries, but no one does it like you.”Angelina chuckled, her eyes twinkling. “I hope you’re not telling her that, are you? You
Nearly an hour later...Olivia’s fingers gripped the steering wheel as she turned into the driveway of their family home. The soft hum of the car’s engine quieted, leaving only the excited voices of her two children, Alex and Alexa, who were both animatedly chatting about their time at the beauty shop. Alexa had chosen a two sided pony, and Alex was still giddy about his hair trim. “Mama, look! Do you think Daddy will like my ponys? And nails?” Alexa asked, holding her tiny hands up to admire the glittery pink polish as the sunlight glinted off them. Her wide eyes sparkled with joy, and Olivia forced a smile onto her face.“Yes, sweetheart, Daddy will love them. I’m sure he’ll be so proud,” Olivia replied, her voice betraying none of the turmoil churning inside her. She parked the car, the engine’s quiet purr cutting off abruptly, leaving the driveway still and eerily silent.Alex unbuckled his seatbelt with the speed of a child who couldn’t wait to share exciting news. “I can’t wait
A few days later...Olivia sat on the cold, hard stool next to Carlos's hospital bed, staring at his motionless body. His face was pale, his breathing shallow, and the machines around him hummed and beeped rhythmically, tracking his every breath and heartbeat. The room smelled sterile, the faint scent of antiseptic in the air, and the bright, artificial light from the ceiling cast harsh shadows across his face.She crossed her legs, her foot tapping softly against the tiled floor, her hands resting on her lap as she watched him. Her mind drifted, but the smile that tugged at the corner of her lips remained— subtle but triumphant. It's done, she thought, her heart racing at the thought. After years of planning, manipulation, and waiting, her mission was finally complete. The mighty Carlos Wilson was lying before her, utterly helpless.A nurse entered the room, her soft footsteps barely audible on the floor. She smiled at Olivia, a kind but professional smile, and then turned her attent
Several years later.The subway platform was as familiar to Carlos as his own skin by now, the dim, flickering lights overhead casting long, uneven shadows across the grimy floor. The night was biting cold, seeping through the thin layers of his old jacket, but he had long stopped minding it. After all, the chill had become a constant companion. Andrew and Peter were already setting up when he rolled up in his wheelchair, the squeaky wheels echoing slightly in the nearly empty tunnel. A few people hurried past, heads down, not sparing a second glance at the trio who were about to fill the subway with their melodies. Andrew adjusted his guitar strap, his fingers hovering over the strings, testing out a few chords. He glanced at Carlos, his face creased with the weariness of life. “Ready for another night, my man?” Andrew asked, his voice gruff but kind.Carlos offered a tight lipped smile. “I’ve got nothing better to do,” he replied, positioning himself beside them. His voice, though
The following evening.....Carlos’s fingers slid over the smooth strings of his guitar, his eyes shut as he strummed the chords with practiced ease. The rhythmic notes echoed through the park, melding into the cool evening air. Andrew sat beside him, his fingers dancing on the keyboard, while Peter tapped his drumsticks lightly against the cajón, filling the space with a steady beat. A small crowd had gathered around their makeshift stage, captivated by the music, swaying gently to the melody. It was a simple life, playing for strangers who’d toss spare change into their tip jar, but it was theirs. For a few hours each day, they were free. Free from the burden of life’s harsh realities, free from the pain and memories that haunted them all.As Carlos played, his gaze drifted across the crowd, briefly landing on a familiar figure. Miguel. The man from the night before. He stood just at the edge of the gathering, his broad frame silhouetted by the streetlights, arms crossed over his ch
The following night...Carlos sat silently at the edge of the stage, his guitar resting against his knee, watching as the last of the small crowd dispersed into the fading twilight. Andrew and Peter were packing up their instruments, exchanging a few light-hearted jokes, but Carlos wasn’t in the mood for banter. His mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t stop thinking about last night, about Miguel and everything he had said. He was torn between disbelief and a gnawing curiosity that had kept him awake most of the night.“Hey, you good?” Andrew’s voice cut through his thoughts. He was standing beside Carlos, his keyboard case slung over his shoulder. “You’ve been quiet since we finished playing.”Carlos nodded, though his thoughts were still muddled. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he muttered, avoiding Andrew’s concerned gaze. “Just thinking.”Andrew raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced but didn’t push. “Well, let us know if you need anything, man. We’re here for you.”“Thanks,” Carlos replied, his t
A few months later.....Carlos sat quietly in the large, beautifully landscaped garden of the Martinez family estate. The sun, golden and warm, cast long rays through the trees, painting the glass walls of the house in shimmering reflections. This estate, known as the "Glass Fortress," was hidden deep within the woods, far from prying eyes, a sanctuary from the chaos of the outside world. The trees around swayed gently in the breeze, the air crisp and filled with the scent of pine and freshly cut grass. Carlos wheeled himself to the edge of the garden path, close enough to admire the serene beauty but far enough to avoid being touched by the world beyond.His fingers absentmindedly traced the cool metal of the wheelchair’s arms, but his mind was elsewhere, tangled in thoughts of his lost children and the ex-wife who had taken them. He had moments like this often, where he would retreat into the solace of nature, trying to find some peace in the rhythm of the forest, but peace always s