A Fractured Home

VAUGHN

I watched him for a moment, letting the heavy silence stretch between us. The banter from earlier faded, replaced by the grim reality of the corporate grind. I decided it was best to leave his comment there, keeping my thoughts to myself. Shifting my focus, I grabbed the top stack of finance reports resting on my mahogany desk, the crisp paper crinkling under my grip.

"Speaking of obligations," I murmured without bothering to look up from the spreadsheets. "Daddy dearest has officially summoned us to a formal family dinner over the coming weekend."

Even forcing the words out of my throat left a harsh, bitter aftertaste in my mouth. Just the thought of sitting at a long, pretentious dining table with the man made my jaw clench.

"Hmm," Ronan grunted, shifting his weight against the leather sofa. "Are you actually planning to attend?"

I rolled my eyes, keeping my gaze pinned to the numbers on the page. I could strip the paint off these office walls and spend the entire weekend watching them dry. It would still hold my interest infinitely more than suffering through a suffocating dinner with my father.

"For Mom," I stated flatly.

I looked up then, meeting my brother’s eyes while tightly holding onto my stoic expression. He actually thought mentioning our mother changed the dynamic. I harbored zero genuine affection for either of my parents. The constant manipulation, the cold calculations—that particular part of my humanity had shut off a long time ago. But Ronan did not know the full extent of the rot in our family structure. I intended to be the very last person on earth to ruin his remaining illusions. I needed to protect whatever shred of normalcy he still believed in, even if it meant sitting through a miserable evening.

A sharp knock on the heavy oak door interrupted my thoughts.

"Come in," I called out.

The door swung open, and Nadine strolled in. My assistant possessed a sharp mind and a ridiculously sassy mouth that somehow kept her employed.

"Nadine. Perfect timing," I said, leaning back in my chair. "I was just thinking about you."

She raised a perfectly arched brow, resting a hand on her hip. "Does that mean you have finally decided to propose to me, boss? Should I book a manicure? Just so you know, I expect a romantic sunset proposal. Nothing less."

A low chuckle escaped my throat. Nadine and I had stuck together since high school. More accurately, she refused to leave me alone, convinced my lack of sociability would lead to an early grave via isolation.

"You have a terrible sense of humor," Ronan snapped. His voice came out gruff, his deep displeasure echoing off the office walls. He despised her joking behavior.

Nadine did not even flinch. She offered a dismissive shrug, the fabric of her silk blouse catching the overhead light. "Perspectives, Ronan."

"Nadine, the annual day," I interjected. No matter how wildly entertaining it was to watch my brother get worked up over her, the Keystone Associates event took priority.

She waved a hand at me, a smug smile tugging at her lips. "All arrangements are locked in. The venue is prepped, and the invites went out this morning. You are never going to find another employee quite like me, Vaughn."

I could not argue with that fact. Despite her relentless attitude, she remained the most capable personal assistant in the city.

"Thank you."

"You are welcome," Nadine replied smoothly. "And in return for my flawless services, I am requesting permission to leave the office early today. I have a date." She flashed a bright, undeniable grin at the last word.

Before I could even process her request, Ronan’s voice dropped into a low, intense register that vibrated across the room.

"A date?"

Nadine’s head whipped toward him. She met his furious glare with pure, unadulterated defiance. "Do you have a hearing problem?"

I settled deeper into my leather seat, folding my hands over my stomach. The tension thickening the air between them was prime entertainment. Ronan shot her a hard, icy stare, his jaw ticking, while Nadine held her ground, refusing to break eye contact. The unspoken friction crackled through the room.

After a long, suspended moment, she finally broke the stare-down and looked back at me. "So..."

"Yeah," I said, waving her toward the door. "Go. Enjoy your evening."

Even as the words left my mouth, I felt Ronan’s glare shift, burning a hole directly into the side of my head.

"And you make sure to think about that sunset proposal," Nadine called over her shoulder, striding out of the office and clicking the door shut behind her.

It took everything I had to suppress my grin. I turned to my brother. "Calm down. The entire building can smell your jealousy from here."

Ronan just stared blankly at me, his eyes dead flat. "Fuck you."

TESSA

I scrolled endlessly through the Netflix menu, searching for something good to watch. The apartment was bathed in a rare, peaceful quiet. Ivy had finally settled down and fallen asleep in her bedroom, the soft glow of her nightlight spilling into the hallway. I eagerly wanted to turn this evening into a cozy movie night with Oscar. We desperately needed quality time. I figured we could order a large pizza, curl up on the couch, and just enjoy being near each other for once.

The doorbell chimed. I tossed the remote on the cushions and hurried to the front door.

"Hey," Oscar said as he stepped inside. He flashed a tired, perfunctory smile. The year-end workload had been wearing him down, and it showed in the heavy slump of his shoulders.

"Hi!" I stood up on my toes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "I was just about to order us some food. Does pizza sound good?"

He pulled back, shaking his head. "I don’t want takeout. Can you just cook me a hot meal?"

I swallowed the immediate swell of disappointment. "Oh. Um, yeah. Okay."

"Thank you, babe." He gave me a quick, dismissive peck on the mouth. "I am going to go change."

I let out a heavy sigh as he walked past me and disappeared into the bedroom. Suppressing my own exhaustion, I turned on my heel and headed for the kitchen. I possessed zero desire to cook tonight. My feet ached, and my energy was drained. But I pushed the frustration down because he asked, and I figured a homemade meal might help us connect.

I pulled out the pots and pans, the metallic clatter echoing in the quiet kitchen. I set a pot of water to boil and began simmering tomato sauce, the rich scent of garlic and herbs filling the air. I took my time plating the spaghetti, making sure it looked appetizing, and carefully poured two glasses of red wine, the deep crimson liquid swirling in the crystal goblets.

When Oscar emerged from the bedroom in his sweatpants, I forced a bright smile.

"Babe, dinner is ready."

"Smells great." He offered a brief smile as he walked into the kitchen.

"Pick a movie," I said, gesturing toward the living room while handing him his plate. "I can’t decide what to watch."

"Not tonight," he replied, taking the food from my hands. "There is a football game on. I want to watch that instead."

My smile vanished. The warmth drained out of my chest, replaced by a hollow chill. I stood there, staring at him. I cooked this entire meal solely for his benefit, hoping we could share an intimate evening, and he was casually tossing my effort aside for a game.

"Seriously?" I asked, a bitter chuckle escaping my lips.

"It is just for tonight, babe."

He did not even look at my face. He grabbed his plate, walked straight into the living room, and dropped onto the couch. The loud blare of the sports commentators filled the apartment, erasing the quiet peace I had cherished just an hour ago.

I stood frozen by the kitchen counter, my fingers gripping the edge of the marble surface. My appetite disappeared instantly, replaced by a sickening knot in my stomach. My glass of wine sat untouched next to my empty plate. He did not care about the movie. He did not care about sitting together. He just wanted to be fed.

Moving on autopilot, I wrapped my plate in plastic film, shoved it into the refrigerator, and walked straight past the living room, retreating into our bedroom.

A few minutes later, the bedroom door clicked open. Oscar stepped inside, his jaw tight. He crossed his arms over his chest, adopting a defensive posture.

"You didn’t eat," he stated.

"I am not hungry."

"You were hungry five minutes ago," he shot back, his tone laced with irritation.

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "Well, now I am not."

He stood in silence for a few seconds before shaking his head. "This is about me watching the game, isn’t it? Why do you always overreact and do this?"

I spun around, baffled by the sheer audacity of his words. "What do you mean by 'do this'?"

"This!" He gestured toward me. "You are refusing to eat just because I wanted to watch my game in peace. You are making a massive deal out of nothing."

I stared at him, my blood heating up. He was twisting the situation to deflect the blame onto me.

"You seriously have the nerve to blame me for a situation that you created?" I demanded.

His eyes widened as if I had just accused him of a crime. "Me? How is this on me?"

I stepped closer, lowering my voice but lacing it with venom. "Because I did not want to cook tonight. I did it anyway because you asked me to. The least you could do was show the basic courtesy of sitting down and eating the meal with me. Instead, you took your food and blew me off for a television screen."

Oscar scoffed, throwing his hands up. "Courtesy? What kind of formal relationship do you expect us to have?"

"Keep your voice down," I pleaded, glancing toward the wall. "Ivy is sleeping."

"Why should I care?" he snapped, his voice rising louder. "You are the one in here making a scene over a plate of pasta!"

I stared into his eyes and realized he was never going to back down. He refused to see my side, and I refused to sacrifice my daughter’s rest just to win a screaming match with a brick wall. The old version of me would have stayed and fought until the bitter end, but I could not do that to Ivy.

"Fine," I whisper-yelled, the exhaustion finally breaking my spirit. "I am sorry for wanting us to spend quality time together. Have the room."

I turned my back on him, walked out the door, and headed straight for Ivy’s room. I slipped inside and closed the door softly behind me, the quiet darkness offering an immediate sanctuary from the tension radiating down the hall.

I walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. Ivy was sprawled out, her mouth slightly open, softly snoring under her blankets. I gently pulled the covers up to her shoulders, my hands trembling.

As I sat there watching my daughter sleep, a familiar, terrifying dread settled deep into my chest. The walls of the room felt like they were closing in on me. I rubbed my chest, struggling to breathe through the sinking, suffocating feeling that staying in this relationship with Oscar was yet another massive mistake in my life.