XXII. January 14th, 1986

Mira's POV:

Immediately, I end the call.

The slam was so loud that Carter raced into the living room. "What's wrong?" He asks while holding a spatula.

"Um-" How do I deliver the news? "Lucian found out about the restraining order," I whisper. "And now he's coming here."

"He- what?!"

I covered his mouth, "Quiet," I said. "Steven is still sleeping."

"No, he's not," Steven's dead voice enters the room. Carter and I look upstairs to see a tired Steven in messy clothes. What...What did you say?"

"Um- Lucian found out about the restraining order and is coming?" I smile in an attempt to decrease the importance of the detrimental situation.

The next 15 minutes spiral out of control. Steven packs our stuff while screaming at his lawyer friend for being a traitor. Meanwhile, Carter tries to calm him down, but it is futile because it only angers Steven.

Me?

I'm stressed eating at my bedroom door.

The more I watched them bicker - or Steven stress screaming - the faster I ate.

My breathing intensifies, and soon, everything becomes a blur.

When I opened my eyes, I was inside my bedroom. Not the bedroom at Carter's house, but my parents' house bedroom.

"Mira?" Dad stands up from the twin-size bed, and the small toy bunny on his lap falls to the ground. "What...What are you doing...How?"

The bowl of snacks falls onto the floor, and it scatters all over the carpet.

Dad's eyes drop to the ground, and steadily, it rises to my bump.

"I...I shouldn't be here." I stumbled back but quickly made my way out of the room.

"Mira!" Dad rushes after me.

I don't understand why he would go after me. Is it because I appear out of nowhere, and he wants an answer? But why was he in my bedroom? Why does he look so sad?

No, don't think about it.

He doesn't care.

He only cares about his reputation.

His status.

His family is the only trophies he displays.

If they shine the way he wants, he'll keep them on his shelves. If they don't, they go to the box.

I know I'm overreacting, but how am I supposed to navigate this situation? Even if I stay and listen to his questions, what can I say?

I'm carrying the bastard child of a grand duke?

No, I'm not ready for another complication.

On my way down the stairs, my sight somehow worsened. I know what's happening, stress-related blurry vision. They say when we're really stressed and anxious - both with I am - high levels of adrenaline in the body can cause pressure on the eyes.

Dad grabs my shoulder, and instantly, I turn to see a car ceiling.

"She's awake!" Steven says. "She's awake!" Steven embraces me tightly, and I grab a tight hold of him. "You're okay," he breathes deeply between each word. "You're okay."

I close my eyes to calm down my nerves, but no matter how much I tell myself or hear Steven telling me it's okay, it doesn't feel like it'll be okay.

So, I did what anyone else would do in this type of stressful situation: I cried in my big brother's arms.

When I finished, I asked, "Where are we heading?"

"My lake house," Carter says.

I look at Steven, "He got a lake house?"

"Yeah," he replies, "I considered flying out of the country but realized he may track our passports."

I run my hand through my swollen eyes to digest that statement. It shouldn't be hard to understand what he said, but boy, am I tired.

Is this what the main character feels?

Always tired of bullshit things?

I want my normal life back.

"Are you okay?" Steven asks.

"No, not really." I look at him, "At least we match."

He chuckles lightly at my comment before grabbing a blanket and placing it on top of my body: "Take a nap, and we'll be there soon."

I cuddle close to the door, "Can I have my own room?"

"Yes," he says.

"I'm asking Carter; it's his lake house."

Carter laughs lightly, "Yes, you can have your own room."

"With a view?"

"Of course."

"Can I have hot chocolate?"

"Yes."

"That was a question for Steven."

Steven exhales softly, but it isn't the type of sound that makes him frustrated; rather, he is amused. "Yes, you can have hot chocolate, but not too late."

I smile and rest my head against the glass, "I want lots of hot chocolate."

"Of course."

In my hazy state, I continued to request more things. These requests and questions were insignificant, but in moments like these, we need them desperately.

Especially with the lingering thought in the back of my mind of how pissed Lucian must be.

I saw him yesterday, and he told me to stay safe, then I ran away.

When the car stopped, I woke up to see a small cabin. It wasn't exactly the fancy ones you'd see on TV; rather, it was a small, cozy one surrounded by snow, making it look like something you'd run into when you're trying to run away from a disaster—which isn't far from our current situation.

I opened the car door alongside them and said: "This isn't a lake house."

Carter opens the trunk and grabs some luggage. "There is one. You just have to walk a bit. I'll show it to you tomorrow morning."

"When you said lake house, I-"

"She expected the house to be attached to the lake." Steven grabs a bag.

Carter chuckles, "Sorry to disappoint you."

I sigh softly, "It's okay. I'll make do."

"She'll make do," Carter says to Steven before he makes his way to the cabin. Steven followed him, and so did I.

An uncomfortable breeze catches my attention, and I turn back to see the dirt road surrounded by endless trees.

My gaze cast upward, and the lengths of the trunk caught my attention. They stood as great shadows brought to life by hands, draped in snow.

A cold hand touches my shoulder, and I leap back, "Shit. You scared me."

"I scared you? I've been calling your name." He touches my face. " Are you okay?"

I move away from his hands, "I'm fine." I think. I scramble into the cabin.

The inside of the cabin was exactly what I predicted a man like Carter would have; spacious, clean, and everything in order.

No wonder why he clicked with Steven.

They're both controlling maniacs.

I only say this because I have borrowed something from Steven's room before, and he flipped out on me for putting it back wrong.

I explored the rooms, from the bookshelves—filled with educational, medical, and ethics literature—to the cabinets in the kitchen and towards the room.

"I claim this room!" I throw my bag inside the room with the best view. Just kidding, there is no such thing as the best view, considering how we're surrounded by trees. It's the room with the most comfortable bed.

After settling down, Carter went out to purchase some groceries while Steven was on a call with the hospital on the other side of the cabin.

When I got bored, I put on my jacket and asked Steven if I could explore the woods while the sun was still out.

"Give me a second," he says to the phone before he covers it, "No," he says to me.

My face turned ugly, "What do you mean no?"

"No, as you're not going anywhere alone. Wait until Carter can go with you tomorrow morning."

"I'm 21, I don't need someone to watch over me."

"You're a 21 years old woman who spontaneously stops breathing and is being chased by a loose screw in the head man."

Steven and I went into a stare-off that didn't last more than 30 seconds. Why? Because he made sense, and I'd be the stupid one to wander off alone. "Fine. I'll wait for tomorrow morning."

"Good."

I drag my legs back to the couch but stop. "Can I at least build a snowman?"

Steven exhales, "Fine, but stay where I can see you."

I smile and giggle mischievously before I waddle towards the front door and down the steps.

"Walk slowly, you're pregnant."

"It's okay. I have two dependable doctors."

Steven shakes his head before he returns to the phone call.

With my gloved hands, I grab a handful of snow to make a ball. Quickly, my nose ran, but I wiped it off with the sleeve of my jacket.

If I'm going to be trapped in the middle of nowhere, I might as well have some fun.

After Steven had finished his phone call, he joined me in making the second part of the body.

"Hey," I call for him as he pats the snowman's stomach.

"Yeah?"

"When you two get married, can I be the maid of honor?"

Steven stops his action and stares at me, "What?"

"You're gonna get married, right?"

"Um-" Steven squints his eyes, "That's too far off to tell."

"Come on, Steven, he got a picture of you two in the living room." Steven runs his sleeve across his cheek, and I swore I saw him sweat a little bit. "Is it a sensitive subject?"

"Um- yeah. Kind of."

"What's stopping you two?"

"What with the 50 questions?"

I shrug, "You know my life already, so I thought it would be nice to get to know my brother a bit more."

Steven sighs softly before he returns to the snowman. "I...I thought about it before," he says.

Holy shit.

Is he really opening up?

"What's stopping you?"

"I'm not sure."

"Come on," I said. You're smart, Steven. You know why; you just don't want to say it." I'm not sure if what I said makes sense or is accurate, but I'm too invested to end this conversation at—I don't know.

Steven sniffs lightly before he says: "I guess I'm scared."

Damn. Missed my calling as a psychiatrist.

"Of what?"

"I don't know."

I gave him a side-eye and tried my best not to give him a perplexed look, especially since he rarely opened up. "Well, whatever you decide to do, I'll support you."

Got to put on my adult pants.

When we complete the snowman, we step back. The snowman's body parts were uneven, with the middle smaller than the head, but somehow, it still stood. Its arms weren't any better, as one was a twig and the other a branch.

Steven and I couldn't agree on whether to put on sticks or branches, so we decided to cut the snowman in half.

He decorated one side, and I did the other.

We didn't have coals for the eyes or a carrot for the nose, so we used rocks and another stick.

It looks like a snowman out of a horror movie.

"I know what's missing." Steven rushes to the cabin.

"Yeah," I said to myself, "Artistic skills."

Steven and I grew up with little to no opportunities to express and cultivate our artistic skills. It's either academics or sports.

Academics, because we come from a long line of doctors.

Sports? Mostly to keep ourselves in shape.

Such a shame, too.

Steven was really good at baseball.

He got recruited in middle and high school.

Steven comes out with a scarf and wraps it around the snowman.

I wonder what we'd be like if our parents actually encouraged us to pursue things we love instead of what's expected of us.

Steven and I take a step back and tilt our heads to the left and then right.

"The scarf makes it look extra angry," I said.

Steven chuckles, "Yeah. How about a smiley face?"

"Let's go find some pebbles."

What we're doing may seem silly, especially for our age, but it's something we need.

It feels like we took back a part of our childhood that was stolen from us.

Steven and I competed to find the best pebbles. Considering the pile of snow, it wasn't easy.

I run my sleeve across my nose and dig deeper until I find a few pebbles. "Look!" I grab one and show it to him. It's the perfect pebble!"

Steven laughs, "I found some, too!"

My red cheeks tighten with the smile on my face. We grab the best pebbles we could find and rush back to the snowman. During my return, I tried to think of the best argument as to why my pebbles were better than his pebbles.

Mine is cuter and smooth.

Okay, maybe it's not the best argument I've ever made, but it'll do, and if I whine enough, I'll get my way.

My happiness was cut short.

"Mira?"

Lucian.